God Is No Respecter of Persons: Escaping the Illusion of Spiritual Elitism

 

Come Boldly: The Throne Awaits

There’s a subtle trap in spiritual communities, one that’s rarely named but deeply felt: the belief that righteousness is contagious. That if we get close enough to someone “approved by God”—a charismatic leader, an eloquent speaker, a seemingly holy figure—their favor might rub off on us. It’s an ancient impulse, like touching a prophet’s cloak, hoping their connection to God will bridge the gap for us.

But this is a dangerous illusion, rooted in unbelief.

An Invitation I Didn’t Take

I once had a dream that’s stayed with me for over almost two decades. I was at a friend’s house, and a crowd had gathered around her wood-burning stove. Curious, I went over and realized people were pulling up chairs to listen to a man speaking beside it. As soon as I saw Him, I knew—it was Jesus. We locked eyes, and in that instant, I knew that He knew I recognized Him.

There was a spot close to Him—open, waiting—but I was too afraid to take it. I was scared someone would tell me I didn’t belong there, or that the seat was reserved for someone more worthy. So I stayed in the back, straining to hear, while everyone else sat casually nearby, unaware of who He truly was.

They didn’t know. But I did.
And still, I stayed back.

That dream wasn’t just about fear. It was about unbelief—about not trusting that I could approach Him boldly.

The Quiet Voice of Unworthiness

I’ve struggled with this sense of unworthiness for as long as I can remember. I once had a dear friend who was clearly gifted with remarkable spiritual blessings. She radiated light and connection to God. When we’d go on girls’ trips, I actually felt safer riding in the car with her—not because she was a better driver, but because I trusted in God’s love for her more than His love for me.

I thought, Surely if I’m with her, I’ll be okay. God won’t let anything happen because He loves her too much.

That wasn’t just admiration. That was a subtle form of unbelief—a belief that God's love was stronger for someone else, and maybe I could borrow a little of it by staying close.

The Temptation of Proxy Righteousness

This belief that someone else’s righteousness can carry us to God isn’t new. Joseph Smith, reflecting on Ezekiel 14, warned the early Saints:

“The people should each one stand for himself… righteous persons could only deliver their own souls.”

Yet, in every generation, we fall for the illusion. We cozy up to pastors, prophets, influencers, or gifted friends, hoping their favor will secure divine approval. It’s not always conscious, but it’s pervasive. We let them become intermediaries—not because they claim to be, but because we want them to be. It feels safer, less vulnerable, than approaching God ourselves.

This isn’t humility; it’s spiritual dependence.
It’s fear disguised as reverence.

It creates a false hierarchy God never endorsed—breeding envy, insecurity, and a constant striving to climb spiritual ladders instead of building Zion. Ironically, those most hungry for God often feel the most anxious, wondering if they’re truly “chosen” or just fooling themselves.

A God Who Is Knowable

True faith requires us to reject this lie.

Lecture 3 on Faith teaches that exercising faith in God depends on three things:

• A belief that God exists.
• A correct understanding of His character.
• A knowledge that our lives align with His will.

That third point is where proxy righteousness collapses. You can’t know your standing with God through someone else’s approval. You must know Him—and be known by Him—yourself.

In my dream, I stayed back because I didn’t trust God’s character. I didn’t believe He wanted me as much as He wanted the others.

But scripture is clear: God is no respecter of persons (Acts 6:7). He doesn’t play favorites. He doesn’t distribute revelation, mercy, or salvation based on status, popularity, or proximity to the “right” people.

If He did, how could we ever approach Him with confidence?

If salvation were only for the spiritually elite, we’d be left in perpetual doubt. But because He receives all who turn to Him, we can come boldly, as Hebrews 1:11 invites:

“Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace, to help in time of need.”

The Danger of Spiritual Elitism

When we elevate certain individuals as gatekeepers to God, we create a caste system God never intended. I’ve seen friends chase the approval of those they perceive as ahead of them, hoping their connection would elevate them—and that they’d become someone others look to as well.

But God isn’t impressed by spiritual networking.
He’s looking for humble hearts, not hierarchies.

Leaders, too, can fall into this trap, drawing security from followers who admire them. Some even seek proximity to a “prophet” or “messenger” to boost their own status, as if being friends with “the man” makes them next in line and therefore worthy of admiration.

But admiration is not salvation.

Joseph Smith warned that relying on others “darkens our minds from neglect of ourselves.” True messengers—prophets, teachers, or mentors—point us to God, not to themselves. Their role is to awaken our faith in God’s direct invitation, not to keep us tethered to their shadow.

The Other Side of the Same Trap

But this kind of reliance on others doesn’t just happen when we look up to someone we admire. It also happens when we look down—even subtly—and draw strength from being admired ourselves.

It’s the same trap, reversed.

We might not realize we’re doing it. But when we feel more secure in our standing with God because others look to us, seek our advice, or seem spiritually “behind” us, we’re still leaning on the arm of flesh—only this time, it's our own.

Scripture warns plainly:

“Cursed is he that putteth his trust in man, or maketh flesh his arm.” (2 Nephi 3:8 RE)

That includes trusting in someone else's righteousness or our own inflated image of it.

We can’t borrow someone else’s light, and we can’t prop ourselves up with borrowed praise. Whether we’re hiding behind a prophet or hiding behind a reputation, we’re still hiding—from God, and from the vulnerability He invites.

Even Jesus said of those who do good “to be seen of men” that they “have their reward” (Matthew 3:27 RE). Admiration may feel like security—but it's a counterfeit. It cannot transform the soul.

Both dynamics—drawing near to the “holy” or drawing strength from being the “holy one” in someone else’s eyes—distract us from the real invitation: to stand, vulnerable and open, before God, without proxy or performance.

Standing Before God

Faith requires standing before God ourselves, not behind someone else.

Salvation isn’t communal in that way—it’s deeply personal. At the judgment bar, no amount of admiration for prophets, pastors, or mentors will substitute for our own relationship with God.

We will stand alone, naked and unfiltered, before the Lord.

In my dream, I stayed back because I feared that moment of standing before Him alone. But that’s exactly what faith requires—not hiding behind others, but coming to Him as we are.

This isn’t a call to spiritual isolation. We need each other—fellowship, correction, and community are vital.

But we are never saved by proximity.
Christ is the only gate, and He bids us come.

A Practical Step Forward

So how do we break free from this temptation?

The next time you feel unworthy, pause and ask: Am I trusting God’s character, or am I looking for someone else’s approval?

Take one step toward Him—a prayer, a moment in scripture, a quiet act of trust—and see how He meets you there.

Faith isn’t about feeling worthy; it’s about believing God is who He says He is—and that He wants you, just as you are.

A Personal Confession

This isn’t just theory for me—it’s the deep ache in my heart. My deepest struggle is unbelief, not in God’s existence, but in His character. I’ve believed lies that I’m unlovable, unworthy, left behind while others are chosen. My mind knows God is no respecter of persons, but my heart is still catching up.

I have to regularly choose to reject the fear that I need someone else to “get me in” and instead trust that Christ is enough—and He invites me to come.

If you’ve felt this too, you’re not alone. If you’ve ever stood at the back of the room, too scared to take the seat that was open right in front of Him—if you’ve ever leaned on someone else’s light because you doubted your own—know this:

You are invited.
You are wanted.
You are known.

Not by proxy. Not by reputation.
But by God Himself.

The Throne Awaits

So come.

Not because you’ve earned favor with the “right” people. Not because you’ve climbed some spiritual ladder. But because God is good, and He is no respecter of persons.

His invitation is for you—directly, personally, always.

Come boldly to the throne of grace.
The seat is open, and it’s yours.

                     ~~

I bet you thought the song for this blog post would be “You Say” by Lauren Daigle or maybe “Come As You Are” by Crowder, right? Solid guesses—those are beautiful, spot-on songs. But they’re a little too obvious.

The one that hits me in this exact place—the raw, aching spot this post is really about—is “Creep” by Radiohead. Every. Single. Time. Nothing beats the original but this cover is perfect for conveying the wrestle: the tension between craving God’s approval and chasing the approval of man. Only one of them says, Come as you are.