I’ll put the literal characteristics of omnipotence and omniscience aside, since I’m only concerned with the aspects pertaining to the personal relationship this fictional dad would share with his children. In the place of the two “omnis,” let’s just say that this dad is recognized worldwide as both an intellectual, moral and virile giant. Suppose you were the child of such a man who was known and admired on a large scale and approached daily by a vast number of supplicants hoping that he share with them just a little bit of his wisdom. You’d probably be awed, proud and fortunate to have been “chosen” by fate as one of his progeny—having expended no real effort of your own to be one of the chosen.
You also realize that you are one of many children, and though he claims to love you (his statement of love was indirect—you’ve heard it told that he loves "all his children"), you’ve never actual met the man yourself, as he’d left you long before you were born in order to continue with his humanitarian work (adopting more children of course). So although he cannot enfold you in his arms (or chooses not to, perhaps to avoid spoiling you or showing you any special favor) like you’d wish for him to, he instead efficiently sends off a mass email to his children—the only tangible child support he provides. This email, not even written with his own hand but dictated to one of his many office assistants, supposedly contains all the love and guidance you should possibly need in order to grow into a thoughtful, caring human being modeled after none other than he himself—and perfectly equipped to withstand all temptation to become anything less.
As to be expected, you might become lonely or rebel out of sheer frustration at having been given pages of strange, ambiguous commands, figurative promises, poetic verses and symbolic tales (the meanings of which none of your siblings can agree upon, causing strife among your own family)—instead of enjoying a physically present father who you can count on to assure you at your most vulnerable moments: “Don’t you worry. I’m here and I’m real and I’m taking care of you.”
You might even doubt his existence at all, or if he does exist, whether he really cares about you. I mean, he’s never around and it always takes a great deal of effort on your part to imagine let alone invoke his non-physical presence whenever you need encouragement or comforting in times of pain. When you hear a voice in your head that you think might be his, you wonder whether this is actually the voice of your own selfish desires masquerading as his. Doubt leads to guilt which leads to frustration and/or disobedience—and the “backsliding” guilt cycle begins anew.
So what keeps you believing in him? Well, you are constantly reminded of his Great Sacrifice for starters, and you don’t want to appear ungrateful. The great sacrifice being that before you were even born, he’d saved you from a life of unbearable torture by sacrificing his first born son—who was an exact replica of himself, and therefore his favorite. Never mind figuring out the mechanics of how he gave up his son in order to save you and the rest of his progeny from suffering. For the sake of sustaining this analogy, let’s just say that this is the case: He allowed his favorite son—a being more superior and righteous than your sorry ass could ever hope to be—die in your stead. In fact, this son died willingly in your place! This, I’m sure caused your father a huge amount of pain and this was reason enough to love him “with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind” as well as his first born son who, strangely enough, is not your brother but another manifestation of your father. You find this concept extremely difficult to grasp, but you accept it on no other evidence save your father’s word. Because—as the classic inarguable proof goes—he told you so.
Also, there are the consequences to consider. It turns out that his mass email also happened to be a meeting request that you are required to respond to, as you haven’t yet fully dodged the bullet from which your father’s first born son (your father in another form) saved you from. Nope, in order to do so you must actually meet with the son (in spirit, of course) and acknowledge his sacrifice. The son’s desire for recognition doesn’t exactly strike you as being the noblest of qualities, but oh well. Who are you to pass judgement? You didn’t die for anyone.
So…do you (A) accept the invitation and therefore acknowledge the gift of his sacrificed son and, in doing so, accept on faith that your father does in fact love you based upon that sacrifice? (B) Do you read the email and, out of apathy, laziness or indecision do nothing, which, according to your father’s logic is worse than not having known about its contents at all. Or, (C) do you reject the invitation out of rebellion or sheer disbelief? Any other action besides (A) would not only separate you from your father’s presence entirely, but require him to “lovingly” send you to a torture chamber where you will spend the rest of your life enduring unspeakable suffering!
What it all comes down to is the following. Could you love a man who brought you into a cruel world without your consent; left you physically alone to fend for yourself; never told you directly that he loves you; leaves you a long message of questionable accuracy that describes a grand sacrifice made on your behalf; asks you to accept him of your own “free will,” though there really isn’t a choice to speak of, as the alternative (hellfire and damnation) ain’t so great; and who, ultimately, requires from you an inordinate level of suspended disbelief, faith in the unseen, reliance on emotion over reason, and that you pledge him an unwavering devotion just so that one day you may finally, FINALLY be able to earn the right to be in his presence?
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