So, I’ve noticed a trend among Christians. Very rarely do I meet a Christian who has become one due to evidence and reason. In fact, more often than not, the reason one seems to become a Christian has to do with a desire for meaning, a quest for their life to matter, a need to have their moral standing validated, or some other similar reason. It almost never has anything to do with the fact that they have researched heavily their stance and come to accept it.

Many Christians seem to think the same desires that brought them to Christianity are in me. I was actually at a talk of an apologist named Frank Turek recently where he advised a young college girl who was concerned about her non-Christian friend that the best way to bring that young Christian friend to Christ was to get as close to the non-Christian friend as possible, and wait patiently until that non-Christian was going through a crisis. At that crisis point — when the non-Christian had reached rock bottom — the non-Christian would call up the Christian girl, Turek continued, and ask for help. And that moment, apparently, was when this non-Christian girl would supposedly be most receptive to the gospel.

That may seem perverse, but it actually makes some sense. If the Christian sees God as a personal being who helps in times of trouble, who gives you dignity and validation, and who makes your life matter, then it actually makes sense that a Christian would want to share this gift for dark times with a friend who was also going through a dark time. But the problem is that, for people like me and many other atheists, such testimonies don’t really make a difference. We believe our lives have a meaning we give it, that our moral standing is pragmatically and experientially superior to the Bible’s, and that human lives, including our own, matter. We don’t need your God for meaning, even if we can somewhat understand why you might.

Most Christians, however, don’t really seem to understand that; they seem to think that because their personal testimony is in need of a God, that means that our personal testimony, similarly, needs God — even if we deny it.

It’s in human nature, really, to think that you’ve arrived and that the other person should take notes on what you’ve learned in your life. In many ways, I’ve done that; I’m sure we all have. But when it comes to Christianity, the fact that what you have seen gives you personal joy and comfort doesn’t mean jack squat, because you can find that joy and comfort in any one of 4200+ religions in the world.

The thing is — there are a lot of ways to make people feel good. If you are having a hard time, a good song, a decent movie, or a beautiful novel may be able to lift your spirits. But that is not proof that they are portraying real experiences that can be applied outside of their stories. And it definitely does not follow that the fact that you enjoy listening to Bach means someone can’t like listening to Led Zeppelin. It just is something that makes you feel good; it doesn’t give you authority over someone else’s experience.

The Bible has some interesting stories in it. But the fact that they make a Christian feel good when they’re going through a tough time doesn’t make them true. It just means it makes them feel good. The fact that watching The Lord of the Rings or reading John 3:16 makes your life feel meaningful does not mean that either of the stories are true. It just means that it makes you feel good — perhaps for very profound, complex reasons, true, but that’s what it comes down to.

I think that’s why I often feel a bit awkward when religious people share their testimonies with me. If they obviously made a powerful impact on the person, I see that, and have some appreciation for it. I can see how Christianity can, for some people, make a Christian-themed life seem more meaningful to them than alternatives, just as I can see how someone can prefer Star Wars 1,2, and 3 over The Lord of the Rings trilogy (it may be somewhat difficult for me to relate to in both cases, but I can see it). But that doesn’t mean that I necessarily happen to have the same tendencies. And it’s certainly not proof that any of the stories are true.

So, you might be wondering: Why does any of this matter? If religion makes people feel good about their lives, why not just let people be religious?

Because most religions — and in particular Christianity, the one I’m most familiar with — also usually claims that the things that make them feel good are true. And in doing so, they tend to endorse, on some level, the claims of the Bible. And that doesn’t mesh with me. It’d be like my buddy saying that Star Wars was awesome, and then going from there to say that we needed to get in my car to stop the construction of the Death Star or something, using the force to steer. No, I’m not down with that. If we’re going to make decisions, we have to make sure we make rational ones that are based in an empirical world, using theories that predict somewhat reliable results. Otherwise, we might end up hurting same-sex couples by saying their marriages are somehow inferior, or telling the mother that her recently atheistic son is going to spend eternity in hell.

So that’s why the Christian story that may seem so beautiful to Christians is so harshly objected to by me, largely. It’s not because I doubt that the personal testimony you have to give gives you, personally, a sense of a more firm moral standing, meaning, and hope in life. There are many stories people believe that seem beautiful to the person believing it, and I have as much respect for that beauty, in many places, as I do for a song or a movie someone else appreciates. I start to harshly object, though, where the personal testimony seems to seek to take over my own experience and/or that of others I care about in irrational ways.

So, you’re better off showing me that what you believe is TRUE rather than just saying that what you believe makes you feel good.

And truth is not guaranteed to look beautiful, especially at first. But I’ve found that seeking it is a beautiful story in itself, and one I do have a certain enjoyment in — even as “truth” itself is difficult to define. When someone tells me, as religious people are wont to do, that an atheist’s life is stoic and cold, that’s something I can’t really relate to. There is a certain beauty in living a life based on empirical evidence that is focused on people, rather than one that fundamentally depends for validation on someone who is not flesh and blood, at least for me — which is one of the reasons I am not really a fan of Christianity. Not really my style.

There’s much more for me to say on the subject — especially on reasons why the reality Christians think is true doesn’t appeal to me in the least — but that’s all I’ll say for no.