I am an agnostic atheist. What does that even mean? Well, the root word of agnostic is gnostic, and Gnosticism has to do with knowledge and ideas, religious systems of thought. I have an idea about “what else” is out there, and I imagine there is nothing known about a god or gods. That is my religious system of thought. Theism is belief in an existence of a god or gods. I am atheist because I do not believe in a god or gods, because there is nothing discernable I have found yet that leads me to that conclusion. 

I am still quite young, and there is plenty to explore on the matter. Will I turn myself over to a degree in apologetics or study hermeneutics? Probably not, as I do have more pressing life goals at the moment, but I know that it will be demanded of me (as it should) to investigate as thoroughly as I can in the biblical arena. This is potentially, after all, life or death. I will investigate, as I do now, with unending curiosity for the truth. 

 I investigate literature, film, and people. What I mean by that is, I read up on things like evolution and creationism and how they work. I watch documentaries arguing the truth of the Bible and fact-check them. I speak with people of faith about why they believe; what I often find, if I dig deep enough in conversation, is that what lies at the bedrock foundation of why a lot of Christian believers believe is because “without God there is nothing.” If I may borrow Is Genesis History’s Del Tackett’s pervasive theme of “paradigms,” I see a pattern of thought paradigm when it comes to the question of a god’s existence. If God is real, then all is well and there is a purpose after all. If God is not real, then all is lost and nothing matters anyway. This paradigm displays itself in a couple of different ways: the first being in discussions of morality. The pastor, preacher, scholar, or believer will deduce that atheism does not and cannot assume any definitive morality (they are correct) because if there is no one who is above our station of lowly humanity who can tell us what is right or wrong, then nothing is good or bad. Ergo, cheating, stealing, raping, murdering, etc., is objectively okay, since there is no one who can say otherwise with universal certainty. Did you hear it? If there is no one above our station…nothing is good or bad. If there is no God, nothing is right or wrong and so it does not matter what we do with ourselves. 

Except that it does. I will get to that in just a moment.  

Another way the paradigm reveals itself is in conversation of emotional nature. I like to think that most believers will agree that whether or not there is a god, there is always depression. Anxiety, suicide, misery, and suffering exist with or without a supreme being. The question that plagues believers if they consider atheism is whether or not there is any true end or relief for that suffering. Is there any hope that there is a place where suffering does not exist? Is there any hope that my suffering will be avenged? The thought that the answer could be no is terrifying—to everyone, not just believers. We very well could be stuck here with each other with no way out. The following thought usually proceeds as such: then why not commit suicide? Who cares anymore? If there is no god to care, then there is nothing that should hold me back. 

Except that there is. 

It is a difficult thing to hear, and not always does it come up, but when it does, it is emotionally wrenching to hear someone say “if there is nothing else there, then [my] life is meaningless.” I do not propose a challenge, per se, to that logic. I propose a remedy of sorts. An answer. An alternative “then” to your “if.” It is this: yes it does matter whether or not you live or die. It matters to me. 

 If there is no god who promises to relieve your suffering, then there is still your family. If there is no god who promises you will be alright even after you die, then there is still your friends. If there is no god who can protect you from evil, then there is still you. Now, your family may not love you like they should, not every family will do their best for each other. Some families are outright abusive. Your friends may not have your back like they should. We cannot help where it is we come from. You may not believe you have any strength, and perhaps to some degree you are right. 

 The best part about humanity: when you reach in, it reaches back. Loneliness and isolation are painful for a reason. We innately require connection to others. Whether or not god is real, that fact remains true. We need each other. We are built to need each other. Chemical reactions, biological implications, pubescent realizations and all the rest of the really uncomfortable facts of what makes us human—we deeply desire to be seen and touched by another person. Who cares if you kill yourself? I do. Why does it matter if I care? Because I enjoy who you are and the fact that you live, and I want to see you grow and live and prosper and fall down and cry and suffer and wait and dream and find yourself and make terrible mistakes and learn and make some more mistakes. Whether or not that is important for you to hear and believe is up to you. It matters that I care because it matters to you if anyone cares, and I’m telling you that I do. Does the fact that I’m a person just like you minimize my importance in your life, or may I be a non-supreme being and still love and appreciate you? 

 May I still wonder where you have gone if I do not see you for a while? May I still miss you? May I still cry with joy whenever I see you again? May I still hold your hand while you go through your worst break up? May I still ask for your forgiveness? May I still make mistakes and not forfeit my worth? May I tell you that whether or not there is a god, there is still suffering and trauma, but there is also still strength and love and triumph and human connection?  

 If there is no god who can promise us that everything will be okay in the end, then it is of the utmost importance that we do what we can right now to alleviate each other’s suffering. We all have limitations and we will hurt each other, but we are all each other has. You are all I have, and that makes me love and want to see you and spend time with you even more. If depression does not leave you if god does, then neither can your value as a person. Something that cannot redeem you until after everything has already happened cannot steal your experiences right now. You are capable of compassion and strength and awe. How do I know that? Because so am I. So is my mother, so is my partner, so are my friends. 

We are different, of course, and those differences matter. Perhaps I need more help on something than you do, or perhaps I do not suffer from chemical imbalances that cause me to see the world in a certain light as you do. To me, that means we need help from each other. We need each other, as I was saying, and there are those of us who want nothing more than to help. It feels good to help, doesn’t it? That’s for a reason, the same reason it hurts to feel alone.

What is the purpose of life? To some degree, we get to decide; to some degree, that is daunting. If our purpose is not to convert others to our religion, if our purpose is not to make it into Heaven, if our purpose is not to vanquish evil, if our purpose is not to depend on someone we cannot see, hear, touch, taste, hug, or bleed like us (without some serious changes being made), then…what? Then there is still you and me. You can hug me, you can reach out and touch me, you can hurt me, you can watch me bleed the same color as you, you can laugh and cry with me, you can get angry with me, you can hear my voice. What is the purpose of life? The person who is reading this. 

Feel free to challenge my ideas of life and love and suffering; feel free to persuade me that the only reason we have good things is because of someone we cannot hear, touch, or see; feel free to tell me that you can hear, touch, and see someone who is invisible. Feel free to tell me that abstract things like love cannot be heard or touched or seen as a physical form either. Feel free to argue that what I’m saying has nothing to say for justice or crime or morality. I love having these conversations with you, because you are here to have them and that means the world to me.

Thank you for reading.