For years, I believed Jesus reserved His loving kindness for the obviously broken: the prodigals, the tax collectors, the sinners who knew they were lost. But then I read Mark 10.

In Mark 10, the rich young ruler comes to Jesus sincerely, respectfully, and with remarkable confidence in his own obedience. “All these [laws] I have kept from my youth,” he says. It’s a striking moment of self-righteousness.

And right after the man lays out what he believes is his impeccable spiritual résumé, Mark makes a comment that reshaped my entire view of grace: “And Jesus, looking at him, loved him” (Mark 10:21).

Jesus loved him.

I didn’t have a category for Jesus’ heart beating tenderly for a man who believed he could keep the law. But there it was, right in the text. Jesus loved him—the self-righteous and spiritually self-deceived.

Most of us are comfortable with a Jesus who loves the prodigal, but less comfortable with one who loves the self-righteous. Yet if we let Scripture shape our understanding of Christ’s love, we see that Jesus is not only kind to the hurting but also to the proud. Consider Luke 15. In one of Jesus’ most famous stories, a father runs to embrace his rebellious son after he returns broken and ruined by sin. But that’s not where the story ends. The older brother—the hard-working, well-behaved son—refuses to join in the celebration of his lost brother now found, resentful and convinced of his own moral superiority.

How does the father respond? He doesn’t scold or belittle. He entreats: “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours” (v. 31).

It’s a moving scene that communicates a gospel truth: our Heavenly Father does not love one kind of sinner more than another. He loves both sons, pursuing them equally. One needs to be brought home from a faraway country, the other from his own self-righteousness. Both are lost, but both are loved.

When you put Mark 10 and Luke 15 together, you begin to see that Jesus is not repelled by the self-righteous. The rich young ruler walks away sorrowful, but not because Jesus withheld His love. The older brother remains outside the feast, but not for lack of invitation. And this brings a needed word for the church today.

Some of us feel remarkably free to judge the self-righteous. We spot their faults easily but fail to recognize the same impulses in ourselves. We talk about “older brothers” with casual disdain, as if their sin places them beyond grace. But Jesus doesn’t treat them that way. He doesn’t despise self-righteous sinners; He seeks them. He looks at them—and loves them.

If that describes you—if your confidence has been in your own obedience, your own righteousness, your own moral effort—hear this clearly: You are in sin, but Jesus loves you. He is gently and lovingly inviting you to join the great celebration of grace. Will you join the party, or stand outside in a huff? Will you receive grace, or walk away sad?

Jesus does not love the rebel more than the rule-keeper. He loves them both—and He invites all to come home and join the feast.