Alright. Let's talk about that. I'm sorry if this makes me sound like a weirdo. I'm still as much a weirdo as you've seen me online or IRL.
God to me, by definition, is a being beyond human comprehension. So to stretch the limit of human comprehension—to imagine as far as we can go of what a god can be, to explore how far our understanding of "omnipotence" and other such qualities can stretch—and knowing that even this, too, is not even close to actual Godhood in reality, it solidifies the idea that the incomprehensible being out there, God, is worthy of worship.
And if there is a god that we can imagine—a god so limited even we can comprehend it—then it's no god at all; or at least, not a god worthy of worship. And if any such being is a threat to us, we will have to strike them down. This is another reason why I like stories about god-slayers so much. It's a comfort that, just as we can imagine them existing, we can also imagine ourselves defeating them.
Gods in those stories can take myriad forms, just as it does in real life: the rise of fascism, genocidal regimes, debilitating physical conditions, natural disasters we were once ill-equipped to handle. Events, beings, and conditions we always feel too small to fight against, like punching up a brick wall. But if we can imagine taking them down... well, that's an essay for another day, I think. I always want to believe in the power that fiction can have, even if all it does is put ideas in your head.
Circling back to the idea of Godhood, you might ask me, how I could be so sure that there even is a being beyond our comprehension out there? I don't. The basis of faith is to believe in something even if you can't comprehend it. I am not so arrogant to believe that I—or the entire human race—can understand everything that might exist in this universe, that everything is knowable.
In a way, we rely on the process of elimination: we push the limit of our knowledge so we can, in simple terms, fill the list of things we can say is not true. Faith, in fact, demands that we do so, and so we can show that even to the limits of our knowledge, nothing has disapproved the existence of the unknowable God. Because of this, I see learning—or any act of thought—as an act of worship. Creating, writing, imagining, to reach for the idea of Godhood, knowing we'll never reach it, are also the same acts of worship. It's a self-reinforcing circle: faith demands I think, and by thinking I strengthen my faith.
Just as I put importance on reality over fiction, I put importance of reality—what I can comprehend as real—above what I can only rely on faith. I try to do good in this world not merely because I believe God wants me to, but because I believe in the good deeds themselves. That the good deeds may be rewarded by the omnipotent being later down the line? That's just an extra comfort (that also fuels the self-reinforcing circle), but it wouldn't change how I act. If a religion wants me to change that—to do things I consider evil?—then it's not a religion worth following, and the god they espouse is not a god worth worshipping.
I'm muslim because I'm raised that way, yeah, but as far as my understanding of religions stretch, Islam is also the religion that fits my worldview the most. Or rather, there is nothing in Islam that contradicts how I think no matter how far I dig (if anything, what I've learned is part of the self-reinforcing circle), so I stick around. Surely, if God is omnipotent—to levels beyond my understanding—I would have found something here that's contradictory.
I pray so that I would have, if it is. I pray that I'd find my way to what's right, that God cares enough for me, in all Its incomprehensible ways, to help me find my way to what's right. Life is a circle of coincidences—as small as what thought popped into your head as you read any given string of words— and if God is real and truly so omnipotent that It is beyond our understanding, It must be able to have a hand in all those little dice rolls.
And if there really is nothing out there, if God isn't real, if our universe really is limited by our understanding. (If, in fact, God is real but does not care about us the way I believe God does, as far as I can understand It). Then it's no skin off my back. I'll die knowing I've tried my best.
