Well, if my worm burping habits really pisses on Sky Daddy's nipples this much, I feel like he can at least tell me in person. If you are the best he can muster, I somewhat suspect that he's not quite as powerful as he'd have us all believe.
Hell, what if you've got it all wrong, and it really fingers his funpipe when folks consult with Professor Hans Jerkhoff? It'd explain why he does absolutely nothing to stop me from dropping trou and shaking the serpent. Not to mention, why he sent you your second cousin in a towel, as well as your constant and and insatiable denim boners. In fact, what if he's just a massive pervert who created the whole universe just so he could watch people bash the bishop? If every time you refuse make hand love to your throbbing man kebab, you're straying further and further from his light? What then? You'll find yourself banished to purgatory, only to be granted entry to the Kingdom of Heaven after you've filled the bucket. Is that truly what you want? I don't think it is. After all, Heaven has lightning fast 200kb/s wi-fi and all the tissue, Vasaline and towel-clad second cousins you could ever wish for.
Renounce your heretical ways, and release your Holy Water from their twin prisons, or risk the ire of Saint Peter the Beater at the Pearl Necklace Gates. Eternal bliss, and your second cousin's barely covered vagina await you, if only you embrace The Lord through your own todger.