By Narayan Prasad Mishra
Is God real or unreal?
This question has haunted human beings for centuries. It pierces the hearts of seekers, believers, doubters, and thinkers alike. Many people, like me, wish that God were real. I want to see, feel, and believe in God—not as an idea but as an experience. Yet, I feel a certain sadness when I cannot fully believe in God’s existence, the way I see my parents, family, relatives, and friends. It saddens me even more when, in my prayers to serve others selflessly, I cannot feel Their hand guiding or strengthening me.
From my own seeking, study, experience, and limited human knowledge, I have come to a humble realization: perhaps no one has truly seen God as we see the people around us. God remains a mystery, an unseen presence that eludes the senses, yet touches the soul. God is like air, sound, or fragrance—unseen, but felt. We cannot define God as ‘he’ or ‘she,’ nor contain Him within a single form or faith. God is beyond gender, beyond form, beyond even our understanding.
As I reflect on the wonders of the natural world—the oceans, the mountains, the forests, the animals, the fruits and grains—I see the traces of something greater. Much like we use thousands of objects made by people we never meet, we encounter the wonders of creation without ever seeing the Creator. Perhaps God reveals Himself through creation itself. When we open our hearts to this mystery, we may begin to feel His presence everywhere and anywhere. But if we close our hearts, if we refuse to believe, God remains nowhere.
Thus, God becomes deeply personal—a matter of inner feeling rather than outer proof. He exists for those who seek, who believe, who feel. He exists in every faith—Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam, Christianity, Judaism—or beyond all faiths. For those who believe, He can be in any form or no form at all. For those who do not believe, He remains absent.
This realization leads to an important truth: belief is a personal journey. Each person is free to believe or not believe, to follow whatever path speaks to their soul. But we must avoid using God’s name to argue, fight, or harm others. If God is truly holiness, purity, peace, and love, then anything done in hatred or conflict cannot be in His name.
In essence, He is the Supreme. He is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent. His power is limitless. He can do what He likes. He is beyond birth and death. He is immortal and eternal. God remains the same presence, embodying these sacred qualities, whether called by one name or another, spoken in any tongue. Let us not quarrel or divide ourselves over “my God” and “your God,” for the Divine knows no such boundaries.
I am a Hindu by birth because of my Hindu parents. That is how you consider your faith in our tradition—you carry your faith by birth, not by any other ritual, whether you believe it or not. According to Lord Krishna, the incarnation of Lord Narayan, one among the three Trinities, the soul never dies. According to his teachings, when a person dies, the soul leaves the dead body and moves to another life, which we call rebirth. That is just like discarding old, torn cloth and replacing it with a new one. You go to hell or heaven according to your karma (deeds). If you do good karma and beneficial work for all, you go to heaven. If you do evil karma and harmful work, you go to hell. The place will be decided based on your balance sheet (account) of both, which seems to me more logical and convincing, according to the justice system, than the system of taking everyone to heaven just because of faith.. In the same way, according to the Hindu faith, you get your reward and punishment with joy and happiness or agonies and sufferings in your life according to your past karma ( good deeds and bad deeds ) of your past life ( purbajanma )
Throughout history, many God-lovers, seekers, and thinkers have echoed this sentiment. The great Indian saint Ramakrishna Paramahamsa (1836–1886), a revered Hindu saint who was regarded as a divine incarnation by his millions of disciples and devotees, emphasized direct experience of the Divine through love and devotion. He often said that longing itself was the path to God. The Austrian poet Rainer Maria Rilke (1875–1926), known for his deeply introspective and spiritual writings, advised us to “live the questions” and trust that, over time, we may grow into the answers. Spanish mystic and Carmelite friar St. John of the Cross (1542–1591), a central figure in Christian mysticism, taught that even the “night of the soul”—those periods of spiritual dryness, doubt, and longing—are integral parts of the sacred journey toward God. The 8th-century Sufi ascetic Rabia al-Adawiyya, one of the earliest and most revered female saints of Islam, prayed not for Heaven or out of fear of Hell, but simply out of pure, selfless love for God. Chinese philosopher Laozi (6th century BCE, traditionally), author of the Tao Te Ching and founder of Taoism, taught that surrendering to the mystery—living in harmony with the Tao—is wiser than seeking control or clarity. Their words remind us that longing itself is a form of connection, a form of love.
In the end, whether or not we see God with our eyes, we can choose to see Him with our hearts. When we embrace God as purity, peace, and love, we begin to reflect those qualities in our lives. Faith, at its best, makes us more humble, more compassionate, and more tolerant. If we can respect each person’s way of seeking—or not seeking—God, we help create a world where peace, not conflict, becomes the highest form of worship.
Perhaps that is where God is most clearly seen.
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