The scientific explanation of "the afterlife" is way more poetic than the Biblical explanation - from my favorite atheist, Bill Bryson

Events late at night

In retrospect I feel like the young half indian; the one who speaks english he learned from his mother and acts as translator for the tribe. Chief big-kim-bass-mouth-drinks-like-fish asks me to translate for the white man who suddenly showed up.
"I like this pale-faced man; he speaks our language! Translate the things that he doesn't understand. Explain my joke."
Big laughter and slapping on backs.
"Speak paleface man! Tell us how you came here and what you think of our people."
Quiet white man speech. Nodding. Laughter. More slapping on backs.
"Ask him does he have a wife. Shall I marry him to a woman of ours?"
Discomfort.
"He came bearing gifts! I will make him one of us."
I explain and tell him he should stay close to the chief; keep his glass full. Teach him our ways.
We regale old stories and ask about our men who left the tribe to live with the pale-faced.
And early we send the pale face Houston away with our women to enjoy the evening.

Perhaps

The fact is that I dont like to believe in anything. Don't like to expect or look forward to anything, and thats what beliefs lead too right?
To be honest I know that the happiest and most inspired times in my life were when I believed in something completely. Or someone. But my heart takes that belief and while soaring with it, is also depressed by all the moments between miracles, when you wonder why you believe. You curse yourself for it. Most of the time those beliefs converge. They produce. Sometimes they don't but usually.

And in an objective way it would be better to ride that up and down than always be down....

I've been saying all this for years. Seems I still have no faith. And while I suddenly want to believe I'd have to decide who it is that I believe in first.

What is a trial of faith if you don't believe in anything?
Perhaps it is an endurance test of the soul.
Or perhaps it's just a mirrored room: no beginning, no ending, no directions, only reflections and repetition. 

And a hope that there's something outside those walls.