Walk past almost any church, browse the website or bulletin, and you’ll likely find some version of the same phrase: “All are welcome.”

It’s become one of the most common slogans in modern Christianity. And yet, if we’re honest, many people hear those words and quietly think: “Really?”

Because too often, what churches actually mean is: “You are welcome, as long as you become like us.”

You are welcome, but only if you dress like us.

You are welcome, but only if you talk like us.

You are welcome, but only if you behave like us.

You are welcome, but only if you vote like us.

You are welcome, but only if you love like us.

You are welcome, but only if you believe like us.

The invitation is extended, but belonging remains conditional. The message becomes clear…you can come through the doors, but you won’t truly be wanted until you conform.

I wonder if that’s one reason so many people have walked away from institutional Christianity.

Over the years, I’ve had countless conversations with people who no longer attend church. What’s striking is that many of them haven’t abandoned Jesus. In fact, many still strive to follow him faithfully. What they’ve left behind is an environment where they felt there wasn’t room for them.

I’ve heard people say: “There wasn’t room for my questions.”

“My LGBTQIA+ friends weren’t actually safe there.”

“My political views caused people to question my faith.”

“Tradition became more important than the movement of the Spirit.”

“I felt like I had to pretend to be someone I wasn’t.”

These stories should break our hearts. Because when we look at Jesus, we see someone who consistently created belonging before transformation.

The tax collectors belonged before they changed. The fishermen belonged before they understood. The doubters belonged before they believed. The sinners belonged before they repented. The disciples themselves belonged long before they fully understood who Jesus was.

Jesus rarely demanded that people get everything right before entering relationship with him. Instead, relationship became the context through which transformation happened.

Yet the Church often reverses the order. We ask people to believe before they belong. Behave before they belong. Conform before they belong. Agree before they belong.

But what if belonging comes first? What if people don’t need to earn a seat at the table? What if being welcomed isn’t the goal at all? What if being wanted is?

There’s a significant difference.

Many churches are willing to welcome people. Far fewer are willing to genuinely want people exactly as they are. To want them before they change. To want them before they agree. To want them before they understand. To want them before they fit neatly into our expectations.

What if our churches became communities where people could bring their whole selves…their doubts, questions, fears, wounds, identities, convictions, struggles, and hopes, and know they would still be loved?

Not tolerated. Not managed. Not treated as projects. Loved.

At First Wayne Street, I’ve often said that I want us to become known as the most loving place in Fort Wayne. Not the largest church. Not the most influential church. Not the church with the best programs. The most loving church.

Imagine if the criticism people had of us was, “Those people are just too loving.”

I could live with that.

Of course, genuine inclusion isn’t easy. In fact, inclusion is often misunderstood.

Many people support inclusion until they encounter someone they disagree with. But true inclusion means making space for people whose views, experiences, backgrounds, and convictions may differ from our own.

If we’re only willing to include people who already agree with us, that’s not inclusion at all. That’s uniformity.

Real community requires something deeper. It requires humility. It requires curiosity. It requires listening. It requires the willingness to sit at tables with people who see the world differently than we do. Most importantly, it requires love.

The kind of love Jesus demonstrated over and over again. A love that didn’t begin with agreement. A love that wasn’t conditional. A love that crossed boundaries. A love that made room. A love that transformed people not through coercion, but through relationship.

Perhaps it’s time for churches to move beyond saying “all are welcome.” Perhaps the better message is: You are wanted. Not because you’ve figured everything out. Not because you believe all the right things. Not because you vote the right way. Not because you fit our expectations. But because you are a beloved child of God. Because hospitality is not inviting people into our comfort; it’s making room for people in God’s family.

Making room often requires us to surrender our comfort. It asks us to loosen our grip on assumptions, preferences, traditions, and expectations that may unintentionally communicate who belongs and who does not. Genuine hospitality isn’t about protecting our way of doing things while allowing others to observe from the edges. It’s about expanding the table so that more people can find a place at it. And if we truly believe that, then our churches should be places where people experience belonging before they ever experience agreement.

What if our churches became communities where people could bring their whole selves, their doubts, questions, fears, wounds, identities, convictions, struggles, and hopes, and know they would still be loved?

After all, that’s what Jesus did.

And maybe that’s what the Church was always meant to do.