Why Is a Church Talking About the Baggage That Comes from Belief?

It might seem strange at first but why would a church talk openly about the baggage that sometimes comes with belief? Isn’t church supposed to be the place where belief is celebrated, where doubt is hushed, and where the answers are already settled?

If we’re honest, many of us know what it feels like to carry spiritual baggage.

Maybe it came from a childhood faith that taught you to be afraid of God.
Maybe it came from a church that said you couldn’t belong because of who you love or how you think.
Maybe it came from messages that told you your worth was tied to your behavior, your certainty, or your conformity.

That’s baggage. And it’s heavy.

Here at Arapaho UMC, we believe that naming this pain is holy work. And we believe that church should be the safest place to talk about the beliefs we’ve inherited, the ones we’re questioning, and the kind of faith we’re still hoping to find.

That’s why we’re in the middle of a worship series called Belief Without Baggage: Loving, Leaving, and Finding Faith. It’s for people who have been burned by religion, who are holding on by a thread, or who are searching for a faith that actually feels like good news.

Each week, we’ve taken on a different part of the faith conversation, not to deconstruct for the sake of tearing down but to uncover what is still beautiful, still life-giving, and still worth holding on to.

We start by asking: What if belief isn’t about agreement but about trust and love?
In the first message, we are looking at Jesus’ words: “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me.” We talked about how the original sense of “believe” is closer to beloving—not intellectual assent, but relational trust. That reframes faith as something we do with our whole being—not just our heads. And it makes room for questions, for wonder, for love.

The next week, we asked: What if sin is not about shame but about healing?
We are leaning into the idea that sin is not a list of moral infractions but, as theologian Cornelius Plantinga says, a "culpable disturbance of shalom"—a disruption of peace and wholeness. Sin, then, becomes a way of naming the harm we cause ourselves and others—and repentance becomes the invitation to return to the person we were created to be. That’s not guilt-driven religion. That’s a path toward healing.

On Mother’s Day, we are exploring: What if love really is the whole story?
Too many of us have been handed distorted versions of love - conditional love, tough love, love with strings attached. But 1 John tells us, “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God.” We are talking about the four kinds of love: storge, philia, eros, and agape, and what it means to experience love that builds up, never tears down. That’s not sentimental, it’s transformative.

We are also reframing what it means to follow Jesus.
Instead of “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life” being about exclusion, we see it as reassurance. Jesus wasn’t drawing a line, he was offering a path. A way of living rooted in love, justice, and presence. It’s not a checklist, it’s a way of life.

And we are beginning to reimagine God not as a distant figure in the sky, but as a presence woven into our very lives.
Through stories of healing in the Gospels and the quiet transformation of Nicodemus, we’re asking what it means to let go of the God we were told to fear, and begin to encounter the God who is already here with us, for us, and ahead of us.

So why are we talking about belief and baggage?

Because too many people have been told they don’t belong.
Because faith should set us free - not weigh us down.
Because healing comes when we tell the truth about what hurt us and start to imagine something better.

We believe the way of Jesus is not about closing doors it’s about opening them wide.

If you’ve ever felt like you had to leave your brain, your identity, or your questions at the door of a church, you’re not alone. And you don’t have to carry that baggage anymore.

There’s room here for your doubts, your deconstruction, your hope, and your becoming.

We’re not here to tell you what to believe. We’re here to walk with you as you find your way toward a faith that heals, liberates, and loves without conditions.