I began thinking about this question after talking with Toby Shope this week. He’s the care pastor who runs the recovery ministry at Flatirons Community Church in Lafayette, Colo. He essentially said the litmus test of church membership has been removed at Flatirons and replaced with what may be a healthier perspective about the body of Christ—one that seems to be based in the Romans 3:23 reminder that "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God."

To be fair, most churches—if not all—would quote this verse as part of their theology. However, the reality is that what all sinners look like in churches isn’t necessarily sinners.

I remember trying to convince my blue-jeaned friend one Easter that it really doesn’t matter what you wear to church and that he would see a little bit of everything if he came. I was really trying to say he would be accepted, not for what he looked like, but just because all are welcome, because all have fallen short, etc. He believed me and came to church.

No one else was wearing jeans.

I don’t know if he felt accepted or rejected or what. He’s never been back to any church to my knowledge, though.

Do you have to wear trousers to get into your church? Do you have to wear jeans? Does what you’re wearing matter a great deal?

At Flatirons the "nobody’s perfect" or "all are welcome" idea is most often verbalized, written about and made into T-shirts as "me, too."

A Different Philosophy

It’s a church philosophy that makes people think a little differently about each other’s faults. According to Shope, "the ‘me too’ language refuses to set up following Christ with image or ‘togetherness.’" I think he means the kind of having your life together, togetherness, that a lot of people think they need before they can follow or even say they follow Christ.

Instead, "me, too" acknowledges that we are all broken and need a Savior, Shope says. It also assures people that nothing keeps us from Jesus’ love.

It makes it okay to be imperfect and be at church. Instead of adding "holy hoops for people to jump through," Shope says his "me, too" church is "inviting people to come with their stuff and encounter God and the better life that he desires for each of us."

That sounds heavenly.

In reality it is the most earthly thing you may ever encounter—at least at church. I know this because I attend Flatirons. And people do come with their stuff. There is no cleaning up before you come—or even putting on a show to make it look like you cleaned up before you came.

As a result, in place of the pretense of playing church, hundreds of people just arrive, knowing they aren’t good at all, but also somehow getting the message that being good is not a precondition to joining the body of Christ. Instead, the change from bad to good is a day-by-day process of faith, in which believers are taking off the old self and putting on the Christ-like new self. But we make a lot of mistakes. That's obvious, and encouraging, since perfection is a reach for most of us. Me, too.