Let's suppose there really is a god. Not some wimp deity who can't even create his own time and logic. No, let's suppose the Big Omega is the guy in question, someone so vast and powerful that all your conceptions of god, no matter how elaborate or degenerate, all fit inside with plenty of room to spare. We're talking a god who can happily create walls so high he can't jump over them, who can solve the General Halting Problem, who is benevolent, irrelevant, and malignant at the same time, who exceeds any origin or ending, who is contained by no distinction, who is bigger than any god any religion ever invented or can ever invent. The kind of god that's bigger than this page can distinguish. The god so big he doesn't care whether or not you capitalize his name. The god who owns all names, all behaviors, all attributes, all physics, all specifications, and all infinities. A god who forgives and damns you no matter what you do, who is 100%, completely, utterly, and without bound, unpredictable, an impartial god of random chance and an intimate god of unfailing love at the same time. The mystery god who resembles, cherishes, and ignores you neither more nor less than he resembles, cherishes, and ignores lichen, water, cattle, neutrinos, stars, pistachio jelly beans, the story of the Lusitania, and one particular cherry-red 1968 Plymouth Barracuda.
The trouble with most theists is they can't stand the idea of a really big god like this. They want a god that acts like their parents did. Someone who buys you ice cream if you're good and sends you to the eternal lake of fire if you're bad. The idea of a god of howling chaos, crystalline order, and all myriad flowing variations in between just scares them stupid, or else their imaginations are too impoverished to conceptualize someone that large.
Give me a religion with a god like this and I might come have tea with you to chat about it. But take your poor excuse with his hands banged onto a tree, or that other poor excuse sitting under the tree clawing his way into his own navel, or that whole tribe of poor excuses playing celestial parlor games with humans for dice, or that poor excuse who doesn't even trouble himself to exist, and leave them at home. All human religions are just pretty children's stories next to Big Omega.