I don’t believe in a creator, I believe in destiny

When I first started questioning my faith, I imagined the path would be simple: either I’d stick to what I’d always believed or I’d toss it all aside and join those who say life’s meaning is just a made-up story.

But that’s not what happened.

Instead, my idea of “god” quietly changed. It stopped being this supernatural author who wrote the universe and became a word I use for something else entirely — the feeling that life has purpose. What I now call destiny.

This shift didn’t hit me like lightning.

For years, I linked spirituality with kindness, rituals, and the feeling of belonging.

Those things mattered, for sure. But eventually, I noticed kindness alone didn’t fully shape my life.

I started reading about physics, thinking about cause and effect, and paying attention to patterns — how tiny actions ripple out, how chance and limits guide what happens next.

Understanding the mechanics of the world didn’t make me cynical. It made me curious: if meaning isn’t up in the sky, where does it live?

I don’t believe in some personal god who sat somewhere and decided to create the Earth and humans. That idea doesn’t sit right with me anymore.

But I do trust that events can have direction and that we humans can give those events purpose.

This trust, this working idea that our lives are more than random noise, is what I call god.

Not as proof of a divine being, but as a practical label for destiny: the sense that what happens can matter, that purposes can grow, and that we can turn ourselves toward them.

A few scientific ideas helped me shape this language in a way that felt real:

• First, there’s systems and emergence.

  In physics and complexity science, simple rules on a tiny scale can create meaningful, ordered patterns on a bigger scale.

  Purpose doesn’t have to come from a designer; it can pop out naturally from how things interact.

• Then, there’s probability, limits, and cascade effects.

  Small nudges can lead to big changes when a system is sensitive to its starting point.

  This fits with a kind of “soft destiny”, trends and tendencies, not a rigid script.

• Finally, psychological meaning-making.

  Studies in psychology (and practices inspired by Viktor Frankl, who survived the Holocaust) show that people who find clear meaning in events tend to be more resilient and healthier emotionally.

  Believing in purpose (no matter what you think about where it comes from) shapes how we act and feel.

This way of thinking made a difference in my daily life.

Responsibility without guilt became possible.

If destiny is this web of tendencies, not a cosmic script, my choices really do matter, but within limits. That makes responsibility feel empowering instead of overwhelming.

Curiosity replaced certainty. I don’t need absolute proof about what lies beyond. I just watch patterns, test ideas in real life, and treat purpose like a garden I can help grow.

And kindness stayed central, but it’s no longer the only goal. It’s part of a bigger picture that includes curiosity, truth-seeking, and making small acts that spread outward. Kindness is a means, not the whole story.

Of course, I’ve wrestled with objections.

“Isn’t this just wishful thinking?” Maybe.

But I ask: does believing in a kind of destiny help me live better and treat others well? For me, it does. It boosts my intention and resilience.

“What about suffering?” Seeing purpose doesn’t erase pain. It changes how I view it.

Suffering becomes part of the web, sometimes a signal pushing for change, empathy, or new priorities.

That doesn’t mean pain is okay. It just means I can respond to it in a way that helps me grow.

“Does this deny free will?” Not at all.

I lean toward compatibilism, there are constraints and tendencies (destiny’s side), but there’s still room for meaningful choice within them.

If you’re struggling with faith or meaning, try this: find one pattern in your life that feels “destined.”

Maybe it’s a career path, a relationship that keeps cycling back, or a habit you just can’t shake.

For one week, act as if that pattern has purpose. Make one small, intentional choice that fits it. Watch how your thoughts and actions shift. Call this “meeting your destiny.” If it helps, call that feeling god. If not, just call it purpose.

My language changed because I wanted a worldview that’s honest about physics, open to science, and big enough to hold purpose.

Calling this cluster of tendencies and meanings “god” isn’t a metaphysical claim. It’s more like a compass. It helps me live as if my life matters and for now, that’s enough.