Bart Campolo figured he was hired to give a pep talk to the 715 Lutherans gathered at Muhlenberg College two Saturdays ago. It was not the expected kind of pep talk.

Instead, Campolo spent most of his 40 minutes tearing them down — but in a way they seemed to appreciate.

Campolo, who wears several hats relating to inner-city mission work, was keynoter for Lutherans in Faith Together, or LIFT, a first-of-its kind program for the Northeastern Pennsylvania Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, or ELCA.

The day, modeled after the national Global Mission event, included a bushel of workshops, five half-hour concerts, music by Bread for the Journey, games, a chance to chat with the bishop and historical characters, and a closing worship.

“The evaluations were absolutely glowing,” said Priscilla Schlenker Kinney, Rockland Township, synod vice president.

Two complaints: that it hadn’t been done before, and that so much went on that hard choices had to be made.

Campolo, 44, is living with his wife and two children in a downtrodden section of Cincinnati, “building a faith community of people nobody wants.”

He made only one passing reference to his famous father, evangelist-activist Tony. But Bart’s mannerisms, inflection, quotable phrasing, exaggeration for effect, personal stories — and rapidly receding hairline — were clearly reminiscent of him. It’s hard, though, to imagine Tony on a platform in jeans and a “Free Jesus” T-shirt.

Bart’s thesis was that he’s a lousy Christian, like everybody else in the audience, and our pretending that we aren’t both worries us and prevents us from sharing God’s love with the world.

“We embellish all the time,” he said. “We never let the facts stand in the way of truth.

“I’m weak; I’m inconsistent; I’m selfish. I’m wracked with doubts I can’t shake. And I’m not the only one who can’t get his act together. Everybody’s faking it.”

He admitted his biggest problem is with lust, sometimes succumbing to video porn. In the book he co-wrote with his father 18 years ago, “Things We Wish We Had Said,” Bart wrote, “The most destructive things are the images I have allowed to fill my mind through magazines, movies and particularly television.”

He suggested that though many in the audience might not have that problem, they would have others — like getting along with their children, a long-ago affair, alcoholism.

He stressed that such problems need not hinder one’s relationship with God. “God values desire more than competence,” he asserted.

Bart deduces this from observing that Jesus “had no time for the people who seemed spiritually secure,” but “always responded to those who wanted it bad. ... He doesn’t just accept the messed-up; he prefers them.”

So he has chosen to “live among losers.” He’s started a house church which, he said, you could call “The Thursday Night Dinner Party Church for People Who No Church Wants.”

“We worry we don’t have enough to make people love us,” he said. “But God loves us because it’s his nature. It’s what he does — it’s who he is.

“Baptists (of which Campolo is one) are obsessed with who’s saved. You Lutherans don’t care, because you didn’t earn it in the first place.”

His closing story was about one messed-up fellow who accepted Jesus as savior on a retreat — in the van on the way, when he watched Bart “lose it” in the frustration of trying to fix a flat in the rain on the wrong road. His reasoning: “If he can be a Christian, anybody can.”

There are many Bible verses encouraging Christians to be good examples, but Bart can argue the flip side: “If they think you’re righteous and pure, they won’t come. Lead with your brokenness.”