Before You Ask AI, Remember What It Means to Be Human

Just this week, I have found myself in several very different conversations about artificial intelligence. As a teacher, I have talked with other educators about what happens when students can generate an answer in seconds without ever wrestling with the question, and what that might mean for learning, critical thinking, and the kind of adults we are forming a decade from now. In another conversation, a woman in our church was genuinely concerned that AI could somehow be connected to the Antichrist and the events surrounding the end times. And somewhere in between those two conversations, I saw a news story on my social media feed, complete with a picture, claiming that an anaconda had been found in Branson.

They may sound unrelated, but I think they reveal how quickly artificial intelligence has moved from a technology-world phenomenon to a force shaping our everyday lives. We are asking what it means for our children, whether we can trust what we see online, how it will affect our jobs and relationships, and even where it might fit within our understanding of the future. Some people are fascinated by what AI can do, while others are deeply afraid of where it could lead. Most of us probably find ourselves somewhere in between.

Those are not foolish concerns, and I don’t think Christians should respond to this moment by pretending there is nothing worth paying attention to. Artificial intelligence is advancing quickly, and like every powerful technology, it will almost certainly bring consequences we can anticipate as well as those we cannot. At the same time, I don’t believe fear should be the defining posture of the people of God.

Perhaps there is a better question for us to ask. Instead of simply asking, “Should Christians use AI?” maybe we should ask, “What kind of people is our use of AI forming us into?” That is ultimately a discipleship question.

If It Can Be Human, Keep It Human.

One of the greatest promises of artificial intelligence is efficiency. It can answer questions faster, write emails faster, summarize books faster, create schedules faster, and help us solve problems that once took much longer. There are places where that efficiency can be incredibly useful, and I use AI in some of those ways myself. But I am increasingly convinced that we need to remember that not all inefficiency is bad.

Imagine you are struggling in your marriage, grappling with a difficult parenting decision, wrestling with a theological question, or simply unsure how to proceed in a complicated season of life. You could open an AI program, explain the situation, and receive a thoughtful response in seconds. It might even offer good advice. But there is another option. You could call a woman who has walked with Jesus longer than you have.

That option is far less efficient. You have to find a time when both of you are available. You have to sit across a table or talk on the phone and tell the whole story. She may interrupt with questions, and because she knows you, she may recognize patterns in your life you would never think to include in a prompt. She might disagree with you. She might pray with you, open her Bible with you, and then text three days later because she has kept thinking about what you said. There is more effort, but I would argue there is much greater reward. AI can give you an answer, but a godly woman can walk with you, and those are not the same thing.

Titus 2 gives us a picture of older and younger women learning from one another through shared life, and there is something deeply theological beneath that picture. Christian anthropology begins with the declaration that human beings are uniquely made in the image of God. To be human is to carry dignity, purpose, and a capacity for relationship that does not belong to the things we create. We were made to image God in the world and to encounter His image in one another, which makes embodied human relationship not merely a less efficient way of exchanging information but one of the profound privileges of being human. And yet, increasingly, we are relegating those distinctly human experiences to screens.

We already hand over our attention, our entertainment, our boredom, and significant portions of our relationships. We should be careful before handing over our need for counsel, companionship, wisdom, and discipleship as well. A machine may be able to imitate conversation remarkably well, but it does not bear the image of God. It cannot truly know you, love you, bear your burdens, worship beside you, or participate with you in the life of the body of Christ.

One of our first questions before using AI should be: Could this be human? If the answer is yes, maybe we should occasionally choose the slower option. Ask the friend. Call the mentor. Talk to your pastor. Sit across the table. Let another human being know you.

Don’t Outsource What God May Be Trying to Form in You.

There is another question I have been thinking about regarding AI: Am I outsourcing a task, or am I outsourcing something God may be trying to develop in me? There is a difference. If AI helps me organize information I have already gathered, it can be a useful tool. If it helps me proofread what I have written, brainstorm possibilities, or complete repetitive tasks more efficiently, I may simply be outsourcing work that does not require my growth. But what happens when I begin outsourcing the thinking itself?

Some parts of life become valuable precisely because they require something of us. We read a difficult passage of Scripture and sit with it long enough to understand it. We struggle to put our thoughts into words and become better communicators in the process. We wrestle with a complicated problem and slowly learn discernment. We sit in uncertainty, waiting for test results, and learn patience. AI presents us with a very modern temptation: the possibility of receiving the product without going through the process. I can have the Bible study without doing much studying. I can have the reflection without spending much time reflecting. I can have the difficult text message without struggling to find words that are both truthful and gracious, and I can have an answer before I have really learned how to think about the question. The problem is that wisdom has never developed that way.

Scripture describes wisdom as something we pursue, treasure, seek, practice, and learn over time. James tells us to allow steadfastness to “have its full effect” in us because God is working through the process. There are qualities God forms in His people that simply cannot be generated instantly. We live in a culture that has trained us to believe that faster is almost always better, yet the way of Jesus continually challenges our obsession with speed. Prayer takes time. Studying Scripture takes time. Relationships take time. Sanctification takes time. Learning discernment takes time. Becoming the kind of woman who can distinguish what is true from what merely sounds true takes time. Efficiency can be a wonderful tool, but it is a terrible spiritual goal.

The Technology Is New. The Human Heart Isn’t.

Some conversations about artificial intelligence sound as if humanity has entered an unprecedented spiritual moment. Technologically, perhaps we have. But when I open my Bible, the desires beneath this moment feel surprisingly familiar. In Genesis 3, the serpent’s temptation included the promise, “you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

That desire has echoed through human history ever since. We want to know more, produce more, control more, and transcend our limitations. Again and again, humanity reaches toward god-likeness while resisting the God whose image we bear. AI did not create that desire in us; it simply gives us another place for it to surface. That is why I don’t think our primary concern should be whether artificial intelligence itself is evil. The more important question is what sinful human beings will ask it to do, what desires we will expect it to satisfy, and whether we will allow another created thing to promise us what only the Creator can give.

Christians Should Be Sober-Minded, Not Alarmed.

This is also why I think Christians need to exercise caution when conversations about artificial intelligence immediately turn to the end times. There may be serious theological and ethical questions worth considering, and being sober-minded does not mean being naïve. Scripture repeatedly urges believers to be alert, watchful, discerning, and prepared. We should pay attention to what is happening around us and be willing to think carefully about where technological developments could lead, but sober-mindedness is very different from panic.

The church has lived through generations of political upheaval, war, disease, cultural collapse, technological revolutions, and moments when Christians were convinced that a particular invention, leader, conflict, or cultural development must finally explain exactly how the end would unfold. Our confidence has never rested in our ability to connect every headline to biblical prophecy. Our confidence rests in the life and work of Christ and His promise to make things whole. So I don’t want Christian women spending this moment chasing every conspiracy theory, consuming every frightening video, or living with the anxiety that humanity has finally invented something powerful enough to disrupt God’s sovereign rule over history.

Maybe the World Needs Steady Women.

Artificial intelligence may change how we work, learn, communicate, create, and relate to one another in ways we cannot yet fully imagine. There may be extraordinary benefits, and there may be consequences that become obvious only after we have lived with them for years. So let’s pay attention. Let’s ask better questions and be intentional in our conversations. We can set boundaries, disciple our kids toward virtue, and bring a different perspective to the workroom. Let’s protect what is distinctly human and refuse to trade wisdom for speed, embodied relationships for artificial ones, or spiritual formation for instant information.

Genesis 3 reminds us that humanity has been reaching for god-likeness since the earliest pages of Scripture. We grasp, build, consume, accumulate, control, and try to make ourselves wise apart from God. Yet the biblical story is also the story of a God who continually steps into the mess we make and brings redemption to places we thought were beyond repair. Maybe one of the greatest opportunities for the church in the age of AI is not to be the loudest voice predicting what happens next, but to be the steadiest presence in the room. We can be women who are neither frantic nor naïve, who think carefully and biblically, who still sit across from one another at tables, who open our Bibles and wrestle with difficult questions, and who are willing to wait when it feels like the world is rushing past us. Our confidence rests in the life and work of Christ and His promise to make things whole.

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