Thoughts about worship

Suppose I answered a knock on my door one day.

Upon opening it, I beheld: A) A kindly-looking bearded gentleman, a sort of grampa with a glow. B) A terrifying creature with multiple heads, dripping blood from its mouths and roaring like the bonfires of hell. Or C) Absolutely nothing at all.

I now heard a voice: "Worship me!"

And I answered, "Why?"

And the voice said either: A) Because the [insert Holy Book here] tells you to, B) I will blast your crops and bring the world to a horrific end, or C) You figure it out.

I waited, puzzled. "I am all-powerful, all-knowing, all-loving," the voice said. "I created you."

"My neighbors have talked about you," I answer. "Some see little evidence of your power, your knowledge or your love. And my parents created me, or so they say, yet they don't demand worship. And what of this eternal punishment scheme? What kind of parent does that to a child?"

The grandfather figure says that people should have more faith. The monster god flies into a rage, proclaiming his power and sending other people to slay me. (How ironic). The invisible prime mover says nothing.