I don't believe in a God that created us for the sole purpose of worshiping him, and if we believe with absolutely no proof, we have eternal joy in heaven, no matter how bad we actually were, and if we don't believe, we have eternal tourture, not matter how good we are.
Growing up my uncle was a pastor and my father was an atheist. They both grew up in the same brutal environment of an alcoholic father who was always drunk and was mean. He ended up dying in a drunk driving accident. My father thought if there's a God, how could he allow this. My uncle went to church and heard the words "God loves you" and said that was the first time in his life anyone ever told him he was loved. So I grew up hearing them tell each other all of the reasons to believe and to not believe. Also where my first paragraph comes from.
All of that said, I do allow for at least the possibility there is something out there after we die. Partly because the alternative terrifies me. Partly because I have a story that can't be explained any other way.
My father died 27 years ago from asbestos. I knew he was dying for a couple of years before he died. Before he died, I went through a period of reading a bunch of books on near death experiences (Raymond Moody), mediums, etc. Some of the stories were quite compelling, but there was always this thought that all of this could be just made up. And I also knew about Houdini exposing fake mediums because he had a test they all failed and have also seen how people can fish for answers. I figured even if someone can do it, there are bound to be fakes, and that people making money off of it are almost certainly fakes.
So I decided to make my own personal test, but didn't tell anyone, not even my father.
The test was this "what was our nickname for each other". We had a nickname that had nothing to do with our names, that couldn't be looked up, that went back to our love for sports and a writer in our home town newspaper. The writer's name was Charlie, he had a weekly predictions column. Not a single one ever came true. If he picked one of our teams to win, we knew we were doomed. Since we rooted against each other in football, when one of our teams would lose, the other one would say "way to go Charlie" or "way to go chuck" saying we jinxed them. When we called each other on the phone, we'd start the call with one saying "Charlie" and the other "Chuck" and end the call with "ok Charlie" and "ok Chuck".
His death crushed me. I spend sometime on a bereavement usenet news group (early internet thing that predates boards like this). On there was someone who said they were a medium there to help people. I really had my doubts, but asked my question (by email).
I expected an answer fishing for hints like you see the clear fakes do. Instead I got a reply with just one word. "Chuck" Of the two variations, that's the one I wanted. No way to look that up. Nobody to ask. Random person in a different part of the country who only had my email address and who didn't want anything from me. Nobody who knew me even knew I was on that usenet newsgroup or that I had asked the question.
That's my story. Information that I can't explain any other way than my father somehow being able to give this guy the answer after he died.
