I’ve wondered, for awhile, why Christians think that accusing me of being angry at their religion is actually an argument against my objections. I mean, even if I were abnormally angry (which, according to a recent study, it seems us atheists, contrary to Christian perception, are not) I have absolutely no rational reason I can come up with that makes that good enough reason to think I’m wrong. But Christians often seem to think it is — on the surface, the reasoning often seems to be that, because I’m angry, my argument is flawed and I can be dismissed.

I didn’t know how that worked, until I saw it from an angle at which it actually makes a lot of sense.

Oftentimes, it doesn’t seem as if it’s my anger that Christian are trying to separate themselves from. It’s theirs.

Think about it. Most of us atheists (at least, here in the Bible Belt — your mileage may vary) are used to Christians saying we are angry or something when we, for example, say their God is nothing more than an imaginary friend.

But wait a second. Isn’t it obvious that the mere fact that I call the deity of a Christian an imaginary friend often doesn’t mean I’m angry? It can often mean that I think calling this deity “God” is profoundly mistaken.

So why, when I say the Deity is an “imaginary friend” does the Christian accuse ME of anger? Because, I suspect, they are angry at the possibility that they are wrong. And yet, we atheists rarely call you out on being angry. Of course, we call you out on a lot of other things. When you accuse us of being angry, many of us agree. We’ll also focus on the fact that we think you are wrong. But we seldom will call you angry and use that as an excuse to walk off in a huff.

Christians seem to do it all the time.

It’s almost as if there is this insecurity in much of Christendom, and they tend to be angry at its exposure. They see that the criticism of religion makes them angry, but they can’t say that, because that exposes a lack of faith or trust that God is in charge. They may not even want to admit their anger to themselves. So they often leave or try to otherwise dismiss situation that makes them angry. But the atheist is still in that situation, and so the Christian links the atheist with the feelings of anger they’re trying to avoid. This would explain why accusing atheists of being angry is good enough reason, in many minds, to stop conversing with them. It’s not the atheist’s anger they are trying to keep from experiencing; it’s their own.

Although I’ve seen several atheists deny that they’re angry, there doesn’t seem to be a strong corollary in atheism to the fear-filled, projected anger many Christians seem to have. Unlike many Christians, I don’t see many atheists using the accusation that others are angry to end rational conversation. In fact, as a Christian, that phenomenon is part of what made atheism attractive to me — and Christianity so frustrating. Maybe I’m missing out on the atheists who will end a conversation simply because the religious person they are talking to is angry; it’s possible. But this seems to be, at least predominantly, an attitude among the religious — and, again, even when I was religious I noticed this.

The really curious thing is that Christians, supposedly, have the very least to be angry at — that is, if they believe that what they believe is true. I mean, they believe in this great and holy God. The insecurity I seem to see does not seem to come from someone who thinks there’s a great God who has ultimate power over all existence. It seems like that of someone who has an imaginary friend that they really, really, really wish was real. Someone with a fragile belief that this imaginary friend was real that they really want to protect.

But maybe if they actually realized that it was the fear of their own discomfort with their anger at their insecurities being exposed that is the issue, and not the anger of the atheists, they would be able to leave the imaginary friend and more fully embrace a real one. Which is why I’m not afraid of making Christians angry sometimes, even when fear causes them to use their own projections of anger and insecurity to tune me out. Sometimes the truth is hard to hear, but shining light on the insecurities within a world of lies can still bring it to light, it seems.

As Gloria Steinem, an atheist, once put it: “The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.”

[Image Courtesy of Craig Sunter under Creative Commons License]