A woman I worked with a few summers ago told me – with the best intentions, I am sure, if ever… A woman I worked with a few summers ago told me – with the best intentions, I am sure, if ever such a comment can be well-intentioned – that I was going to hell.

Her reasoning was simple: I didn’t believe in God.

I felt, at the time, as I still do now, that I had led a pretty decent life. I had, perhaps, coveted my neighbor’s wife, but the neighbor was rather distant, and I had no idea she was married at the time. But I’ve never killed anyone, and I’ve tried to be just and kind. One high-school afternoon, during a dispute with one of my classmates, I stormed heatedly from the cafeteria, stalked to the far end of the school, and punched a brick wall. After a few minutes of this, I returned to the lunchroom and shook my classmate’s hand, much to his surprise.

With this in mind, I retorted that if God was the type of god who would send me to hell despite the fact that I tried so hard to be a good person, with, I might add, no eternal incentive to do so, then to hell with God.

I did not, however, mention my dirty little secret: I wanted very much to believe in God.

God, Allah, or pretty much any deity (or, for that matter, group of deities) offers one thing very lacking in my life: motive. When I wonder why I shouldn’t simply cold-cock someone, and they are small enough and male enough that I can’t use size or gender as a reason, I am left with the answer of “because it’s not good to hit people.” Which leaves me wondering if I should be good. What do I gain?

That is where God comes in. Eternal paradise is a very compelling motive, and if carrots don’t do the trick for you, then eternal damnation is one hell of a stick. Basically, I’d like to have that kind of motivation, because the Golden Rule always seems to break down for me when you introduce the concept of people who want to die.

So I lose a lot, not believing in God, because I’m always left purposeless, wondering why, exactly, I should even be alive. “Why not,” always seems to be a good enough answer for that, but it’s still kind of a downer when I can’t come up with something better than that.

I am desperate for motive and purpose, because I can’t come up with any that hold up to the most cursory review. It strikes me that most people do what makes them happy, but that never worked for me, mostly because I never found a defensible reason why I should be happy.

I have little doubt that the reason I do not believe in God is because I lack any shred of purpose. I cannot conceive of a reason why God should choose to create the Earth, or mankind, or anything at all. I don’t see what he gains by doing this, or loses by not doing this. Which leaves me with two choices: an insane God, who acts without reason, or no God at all.

Of course this leaves out the possibility of a hedonistic God, doing what makes him feel happy, which, apparently, is playing a deific version of “The Sims” through all these millennia.

If I can judge by a few friends who play “The Sims,” it is apparently a game that can be played for millennia, given enough expansion packs.

However, the same people, when bored with “The Sims,” also tend to experiment with new ways of killing off their characters.

Marty Flaherty is desperate for something to believe in. Send beliefs to [email protected].