“Tell Me About the God You Don’t Believe In”
By Emma Nicholson

Working as a Chaplain in a school, I hear a familiar phrase quite a lot:
"I don’t believe in God."

For a long time, I didn’t quite know how to respond. I’d feel that awkward pang of sadness or even defensiveness. How could someone not believe in God? The God who has changed my life? Who is closer than my breath?

But this year, I’ve learned something incredibly important. Instead of reacting or trying to explain my faith, I started asking a simple, curious question:

"Tell me what this god you don’t believe in is like."

And that question has changed everything.

Because what follows is usually a heartbreaking picture. A god who is angry. Distant. Cold. Judgmental. A god who punishes people for asking questions. Who picks favourites. Who seems to have nothing to say to a hurting world. A god that demands perfection but offers little grace.

When I hear their stories, I nod and say with complete sincerity:

"You know what? I don’t believe in that god either."

It’s been eye-opening to realise that most people’s belief systems are not built on facts or thoughtful exploration—but on hearsay. Fragments of theology picked up from social media, misunderstood Bible verses, childhood experiences, or a TikTok rant taken out of context.

And yet, behind the “I don’t believe,” I often hear something deeper:
“I’ve been hurt.”
“I’m scared to hope.”
“I’ve never met a God who feels like good news.”

So what does my God look like?

He is LOVE.
Not just a feeling, but a fierce, faithful, pursuing love.
The kind of love that meets us in our mess. That binds up wounds. That sits with the questions. That doesn’t flinch at doubt.

He is Jesus.
God in skin, walking among us. Laughing. Weeping. Healing. Lifting the heads of the ashamed. Turning religious tables. Welcoming children. Loving the outsider.

He is Emmanuel – God with us.
Not far off in the clouds, but present in the classroom, the corridors, the quiet sob in the prayer room.

He is Truth – but never used as a weapon.
He invites us to wrestle with it, not run from it. To seek, to knock, to question, to learn.

And He is Grace.
Always grace.
Grace for the doubters.
Grace for the weary.
Grace for the ones who don’t yet believe.

So next time someone tells me they don’t believe in God, I won’t panic.
I’ll just smile and ask,
"Tell me about the god you don’t believe in..."
And maybe, just maybe, they’ll meet the One who loves them more than they ever imagined.