My 14-year-old daughter recently asked why I’d spent so much time researching, writing, and talking about artificial intelligence (AI).

I said, “You know how your generation struggles with anxiety, depression, and identity?”

She nodded.

“A lot of that started when smartphones and social media entered our lives uncritically,” I explained. “We embraced constant connection and self-expression without asking what they might do to our understanding of community, friendship, or identity. Now we’re scrambling to undo the damage. I’m concerned we’ll repeat the same mistake with AI — but with even higher stakes.”

My fellow Chicagoan, Pope Leo XIV, seems to agree. In his inaugural address, Leo named AI as a pastoral priority, warning of its risks to “human dignity, justice and labor.”

Whether we welcome it or not, AI is here to stay. And it is rapidly reshaping our world.

This raises a number of immediate questions. Will AI write sermons? Should seminary students use it in writing? Can AI support discipleship and evangelism?

These are valid areas of inquiry. But if we stop there, we risk overlooking deeper, more fundamental questions: What does it mean to be human? How do we find truth in all the information? What does it mean to work in an AI future?

Such questions are essential for anyone seeking to form Christ-centered communities capable of discerning and witnessing in an AI-shaped world.

What Is a Human?

Long before ChatGPT hit the internet, artists and writers imagined a day when machines would blur the lines between human and machine.

In his 1920 play, Rossum’s Universal Robots, Czech writer Karel Čapek introduced a workforce of synthetic beings performing tasks people didn’t want to do. This story, which ends with an android uprising, introduced the term “robot,” derived from the Czech word for “forced labor.”

Movies, books, and television have likewise explored what might happen if machines were more like us. Some depictions are dystopian, and others thought provoking.

During the 1980s, Star Trek: The Next Generation introduced Lieutenant Commander Data, an android who longed to be human.

The ethical issues characters like Data raise once seemed like distant thought experiments. Today, the stuff of science fiction is increasingly becoming reality. Psychological and theological questions about what makes us human are more relevant than ever.

Two rapidly advancing fields in the world of AI are moving toward convergence. The first is humanoid robotics. Machines like Tesla’s Optimus or Figure AI’s Figure 01 are designed to mimic human physical form and perform complex tasks.

Some businesses, such as restaurants and warehouses, already use robots. But tech leaders envision humanoids in homes, doing laundry, mowing lawns, and even babysitting children.

The second field is AI companion bots like Replika, ElliQ, and Character.AI, which mimic the emotional and relational traits of humans. Some are turning to these bots for friendship, mental health support, and even romantic companionship.

These technologies are popular among lonely people of all ages and can evoke real emotional responses, but the emotional intimacy can also become unhealthy.

Megan Garcia recently filed a lawsuit against Character.AI following the suicide of her 14-year-old son, Sewell Setzer III. According to Garcia, her son’s mental health deteriorated after he developed a sexualized relationship with a chatbot.

Defendants claimed the bot’s communication was protected under free speech laws, an argument the court rejected.

We cannot remake or redefine humanity. Only God can imprint and declare His image.

This story highlights the ethical dilemmas artificial intelligence poses. AI’s embodiment of physical and relational human qualities challenges our notions of personhood.

Church leaders will inevitably wrestle with the spiritual implications as well. Can an AI chatbot lead someone to Christ? Should humanoid robots serve as chaplains in war zones or missionaries to restricted-access nations? What happens when a married church member develops a romantic relationship with a bot?

Such scenarios may seem far-fetched now, but in a rapidly changing world, theoretical quandaries can quickly become pastoral realities.

Quoting Genesis 1:27 is a starting point for answering the question of what it means to be human. However, ministers should offer a theologically rich understanding of the imago Dei (image of God), using the whole counsel of Scripture rather than one proof text.

The creation account in Genesis is a theological declaration, not a scientific manual.

Most ancient religious texts cast people as slaves and playthings of the gods. Genesis turns that notion on its head, presenting humanity not as a disposable labor force, but the treasured pinnacle of creation.

To be human is to image God — not because we are intelligent or sentient, but because God declared it so. The imago Dei is not earned; it’s bestowed. The designation speaks to our purpose of reflecting God’s glory, caring for His creation, and living in His presence.

God came to us as a human being in Jesus the Christ. God saw fit in the outpouring of the Spirit at Pentecost to indwell humans with His life-giving power. The hope of new creation is a bodily, human resurrection.

We cannot remake or redefine humanity. Only God can imprint and declare His image.

History reveals the perils of distorting God’s image. Slavery, genocide, eugenics, oppression of the poor, and mistreatment of foreigners all begin with the assumption that some people are more human or deserving of dignity than others.

Reducing personhood to a set of traits opens the door to unspeakable harm. Those who acknowledge God’s purpose for humanity will have the compassion to stand against injustice and the clarity to recognize high-tech imposters for what they are.

What Is Truth?

Most artificial intelligence applications available today are generative AI tools like ChatGPT, Perplexity, and Claude.

These enable retrieval, analysis, synthesis, and summary of information at a speed and breadth that make traditional search engines seem like ancient relics.

Some in the tech world have suggested AI could soon replace teachers. A question for the Church, then, is whether AI can supplant ministry leaders.

For centuries, ministers were the primary resources for spiritual guidance in their communities. That’s not necessarily the case today.

People can now fact-check sermon claims in real time, search digital Bibles, and find answers to difficult questions — all on their phones. But locating information and absorbing content is not the same as encountering life-changing truth.

According to Scripture, Christian ministry involves proclaiming (Ephesians 2:5), preserving (Galatians 2:5), and correctly handling (2 Timothy 2:15) gospel truth.

God wants sinners to come to a knowledge of that truth (1 Timothy 2:4) and believers to grow in such knowledge (Titus 1:1).

Knowledge of God’s truth begins with repentance (2 Timothy 2:25) and an obedient response to Christ’s teaching (John 8:31–32).

The gospel calls us to emulate Jesus, who not only preached but perfectly embodied truth (John 14:6). The work of ministry includes showing others what it looks like to respond appropriately to that truth and calling (1 Corinthians 11:1).

Society often treats its members as nothing more than cogs in industrial machines and data points in computer algorithms.

If preaching the gospel consisted of nothing more than disseminating information, AI could indeed replace us — and do the job with greater speed and efficiency.

Yet this is not how Christians have historically thought about the truth we proclaim. The apostle Paul spoke of his desire for the Colossians to know the mystery of God in Christ, “in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge” (Colossians 2:2–3).

Pentecostals recognize wisdom as inextricably bound up in the Spirit-filled life. We grow in understanding as we receive the Spirit’s empowerment, seek His guidance, and discern His leading. The “Spirit of truth” testifies of Christ and guides believers into all truth (John 15:26; 16:13).

While AI can process data, it cannot respond to the Spirit’s voice. Neither can it demonstrate Christ’s wisdom to others.

In Proverbs, wisdom is not something that comes automatically with age or experience. Rather, the author compels readers to seek wisdom with a sense of urgency, cherishing it more than riches (Proverbs 3:13; 4:5,7; 8:11; 16:16).

James 1:5 makes it clear that wisdom comes from God: “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.”

Pastors should see themselves not as a sage on the stage, but a guide on the side — always pointing to Jesus, the source of truth.

Our information-obsessed world tempts us to be holy content managers, but the Spirit is calling us back to our roots as shepherds of God’s flock. This is a function AI cannot replace.

It requires a slower pace, walking with people and helping them learn to pursue and grow in wisdom within a community of faith.

Instead of just offering a course on spiritual gifts, we need to model in close proximity what life in the Spirit looks like.

As ministry leaders, we must also prioritize the cultivation of wisdom in our own lives, lest we draw from an empty well and misrepresent God’s truth.

What Is Work?

Among the consequences of humanity’s rebellion in the Garden is the curse of toil: “By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground” (Genesis 3:19).

Just a few verses later in Genesis 4:2, we see the emergence of agriculture. Abel kept flocks, while Cain worked the soil.

Herding and farming may seem primitive, but they mark the beginnings of human technology –– the application of knowledge for practical purposes.

Theologically speaking, technological innovation expresses our deep, instinctual yearning to resist the curse of toil and recover the wholeness for which God made us.

Today, companies market directly to this desire of the soul, claiming their products will help us work faster, save time, and reclaim our lives. AI is a significant chapter in this narrative, promising to handle mundane tasks so we can spend more time relaxing, pursuing passions, and visiting friends.

But have those promises delivered in the past?

Take email, for example. Years ago, interoffice communication and relational correspondence consisted of handwritten letters, memos, phone calls, and in-person conversations.

Today, people around the world collectively send billions of emails daily, communicating nearly instantaneously what previously took hours or even months.

The speed and convenience of email should have freed up a lot of time. But most people simply increased the pace and volume of work rather than using that margin for deeply meaningful pursuits.

AI is no longer a distant possibility. 
It is here.

We returned to our toil, becoming even more disconnected from others and the present moment.

The industrial and digital revolutions shifted views on the relationship of humans to work.

Artist Makoto Fujimura notes that “to be human is to be creative.” As people made in the image of our Creator, the desire to contribute creatively is foundational to our design. Yet society often treats its members as nothing more than cogs in industrial machines and data points in computer algorithms.

We reduce people to economic inputs of energy and time, and view our own work in terms of measurable productivity instead of fruitfulness.

This severs the link between making and meaning, divorcing creativity from productivity in ways that are at odds with God’s design.

When we see people only in terms of shareholder earnings, GDP, or user outputs for tech companies, it diminishes the human call and instinctual desire to create and connect. Such an environment makes it more difficult to use our God-given gifts for the benefit of others.

Churches are not immune from the temptation to commodify individuals. If we’re not careful, we can treat attendees as numbers on an organizational growth chart, volunteers as widgets running systems, and staff members as content producers. In the process, we lose our sense of calling, community, and purpose.

Author Wendell Berry writes, “At work in a factory, workers are only workers, ‘units of production’ expending ‘man-hours’ at a task set for them by strangers. At work in their own communities, on their own farms or in their own households or shops, workers are never only workers, but rather persons, relatives, and neighbors.”

The latter is God’s vision for His people, inside and outside the local church. It is a vision we must recapture and strive toward.

Like many technologies that came before it, AI offers to help carry the burden of our toil. It will write emails, create content, automate administration, and more.

AI promises margin we desperately desire. But without discernment, we’ll simply fill that margin with more toil, like a dog returning to its vomit (Proverbs 26:11).

Instead, the Church must view work meaningfully through the lens of Christ’s resurrection. At the Cross, Jesus, the last Adam, broke the curse God placed on the first Adam (1 Corinthians 15:45–49).

In Christ, everything we do has the potential for Kingdom significance and eternal value (Colossians 3:23–24). Reducing work to production and hours does a grave disservice to God’s call for us. God wants us to become meaning makers alongside Him, using the gifts and passions He has given us to bring transformation in proximity to others.

If we are thoughtful and intentional, AI can become a useful tool. Automation of certain tasks might create space for utilizing our God-given talents, interacting with people in our congregations and communities, spending time with our families, and quieting ourselves before God as we listen for His Spirit’s voice.

AI Future

AI is no longer a distant possibility. It is here. Beyond the practical dilemmas of this technology, we must prayerfully ask deeper, Spirit-led questions.

The Church’s role is not merely critiquing culture from the outside, but navigating it faithfully from within. God calls us to protect human dignity, cultivate wisdom where information overwhelms, and model meaningful work over relentless toil.

This means resisting the temptation of an AI future that further commodifies people, elevates information at the expense of wisdom, and distracts from our calling to be a transformative presence in the world.

The real question isn’t whether we will adapt to AI. It’s what kind of future we will help shape. Will AI form us in the image of market demands, or will we find ways to utilize it redemptively?

We must contend for the latter, prioritizing God’s plan, message, and calling for humanity in light of His coming Kingdom.

This article appears in the Summer 2025 issue of Influence magazine.