When I left Christianity, some of my former Christian friends tried to comb through my life, looking for something to say, “AHA — he wanted to do sin x. That’s why he became an atheist.”

I’ve noticed, since, that many Christians use this argument, as ridiculous as it seems to be, to dismiss the legitimate arguments atheists make against religion.

Here are five responses that may stop this argument in its tracks and, perhaps, get conversations back on track:

1. The “Right Back At You” Option: You’re Just A Christian Because You Want To Feel Morally Superior

That’s pretty much it. I mean, you say that we’re all sinners — but based on a rather ridiculous fairy tale, you claim you’re going to heaven for eternity and I’m not, as long as I’m an atheist. That’s incredibly arrogant. You’re using your arbitrary beliefs to try to feel like you’re better than me. And the more you’re out and about talking about the importance of the Bible’s virtues, the more you are using your rose-colored glasses to put you on an imaginary pedestal constructed by your own personal imaginary friend. I mean, let’s be frank — a lot of the moral standards the Bible ascribes to are nonsense. For example, a lot of the Bible’s supposed restrictions on sex are bigoted views of beautiful acts that don’t hurt anybody. The “rules” just made up so that you can feel better than other people; they don’t help the world become a better place. And, furthermore, when you’re trying hard not to “sin,” I tend to see right through it to your attempt to feel morally superior to me. Same when you praise the virtues of faith and go on about how I’m in rebellion against your imaginary friend, or other items. You are trying to set up ridiculous standards and following them so you can feel morally superior to non-Christians based on a moral system that, in many places, serves no purpose except your own sense of moral superiority. The problem is yours, and not at all mine.

2. The Critique Of The Christian Moral System: If All I Wanted To Do Was Sin, I’d Sin And Ask Forgiveness

If all I wanted to do was sin, I’d just claim the title of “Christian” and do it. I mean, atheists are among the most hated groups where I live, in the United States. So if I wanted to sin, I wouldn’t be an atheist. I’d be one of those liberal Christians so I could still get all the, like, respect a Christian gets, and then I’d “sin” and praise God for forgiving me. Because here’s the deal — in your system, even if I was a serial killer, if I genuinely asked for forgiveness at any point, God would forgive me. We atheists don’t have that. When we do something that hurts somebody else, we can’t go to a nonexistent God and ask for forgiveness and feel better about it. No. There’s no God; the primary offense wasn’t to God — it was to that person, and we have to make amends with that person, and there are absolutely no take-backsies granted by imaginary friends. So in that way, being an atheist is harder than being a Christian who can just go up to God and ask for forgiveness.

3. The “Actually, I’m An Atheist” Option: Why On Earth Would I Choose To Go To Hell?

This seems incredibly, incredibly, incredibly hard for a lot of Christians to believe, but it’s true: I don’t want to go to a place of torment for eternity. Honestly, I don’t. Some Christians will say, “Well, it’s not like you’d regret it right away — you choose to sin now, and it’s nice at first, and then it gets bad as you sink deeper into your sinful life in hell.” Well, I don’t want that to happen either. If I knew that my current lifestyle would land me an eternity in a bad place, I wouldn’t want to live it. Guaranteed. No amount of “sinning” in my 75 years of life (if I’m lucky) would make up for an eternity in hell. It may be difficult for you to believe, but I’m absolutely serious. I don’t know why on earth this is so hard for most Christians I talk to to get through their skulls, but I swear, it’s absolutely true. Sure, I may want to have “sex outside of marriage” — but I’m cautious enough about that activity to the prospect of getting an STD, or concerns about how it may affect relationships I care about. If the consequence was not a lifetime of AIDS, but suffering in hell for eternity, I’d be like, “No; I’m good” to a whole host of so-called “sins.” If I thought that was the consequence — believe me, I would never want to “sin.” I mean, maybe if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll have to admit that the reason I “sin” is because I don’t believe in sin because I do not believe in God. Which shouldn’t be surprising — in case you missed the memo, that’s what an “atheist” is: someone who does not believe in God. It may be a novel concept, but yes, we exist.

4. The “Objection! Irrelevant” Option: Maybe That Is A Reason. So What?

Why the heck does it matter that I want to sin? It seems to be a red herring as to whether or not God exists. The fact that I want to break the rules of some arbitrary code does not mean that the arbitrary code was made by the Almighty God. We don’t use that logic in a lot of other situations. For example, there used to be segregation in this country, but a lot of black people believed that black and white people were equal. A white person might say to a black person, “You just want to think that we’re equal so you can drink from the ‘white’ water fountain.” Well, yes, that is a reason, Sherlock. I do want to drink from the same water fountain, sit at the same lunch counter, sit at the same spot in the bus, and vote. But those desires are evidence — not all the evidence, but part of the evidence — that I am equal to you in those respects; I want to do those things BECAUSE I think I am equal to you, not because I think I’m not equal to you. So the question is not whether or not I want to drink from the same water fountain, so much as it is about a broader question of equality. Same with this. Maybe I want to “sin” because I don’t believe in God. So the real question is not whether or not I want to “sin.” The question that matters is whether the reason I want to “sin” — a lack of belief in God’s existence — is valid or not.

5. “This Hurts You More Than It Hurts Me”: Maybe This Argument Highlights Your Own Doubts

By saying that atheists are atheists because they want to sin, and using that argument to dismiss them, the Christian community you’re part of has effectively insulating the standards of “sin” from criticism. Which is exactly what one would want to do if the standards were bullshit and would fall apart if the rank and file questioned them. The upsetting thing is that this argument takes for granted that you, as a Christian, can understand the desire to break the Bible’s arbitrary rules, but then it fights that desire with guilt that insulates the rules from criticism. It also uses the resulting resentment from that blocked desire to distance you from those who, like atheists, have subjected these rules to the criticism they so badly need. If that’s the case, something you may have to be honest about is that you have that resentment, which may be a major step. And then, perhaps, consider another possibility — maybe that anger at the person doing something that the Bible says you can’t do is not best directed at the person, but at the Bible — especially if that “something” seems to be an arbitrary rule that makes your life harder to live. Maybe it’s also an indication that you yourself have doubts, because think about it — if you thought God was with you and that atheists who sinned went to hell for eternity, wouldn’t you have less understanding of the desire to sin? Maybe the laws of “sin” are, in fact, arbitrary and shouldn’t be followed, and you were lied to, and your anger should be directed at the lies rather than to the people who uncovered them. If so, that’s something that’s important to look into, right?

Something to think about.