We must also recognize that AI technology is here to stay. The church cannot avoid giving careful thought to fundamental questions like: how does AI fit into the Christian worldview and how might we engage with AI technologies to further our mission without compromising our biblical values and principles? 

Abstract: The headlines of today are saturated with talk of “AI,” from how Artificial Intelligence (AI) can improve your business to warnings of how it might transform our government, our schools, and even our churches. However, the lifespan of AI as a technology was not always certain. Around five decades ago, 1974 denoted the start of the “AI Winter,” a period of reduced federal funding and consequently a reduced research focus on Artificial Intelligence (AI). In the intervening fifty years, researchers rethought their earlier mechanistic views of intelligence, moving instead towards a ‘learning model’ of developing intelligence. This shift in focus revolutionized the field of AI and has led to many of the advances we see today. This shift, however, has moved AI from being a tool that we control to more of a technology that we shepherd. It is this distinction between tool and trainee that lies at the heart of many of today’s discussions on “the future of AI.”
In this essay, we will explore from a Biblical perspective three aspects related to AI: AI as a tool, AI as a trainee, and AI as a temptation. Used as a tool, we see that AI has many similarities to other technological advancements that we have used to both better our lives and to further the proclamation of the Gospel. As a trainee, we see that AI forces us to reestablish and reaffirm our views of mankind being made in the image of God and to consequently wrestle with what it means for AI to be made in the image of the image of God. As a temptation, we must reaffirm our God-given mandates and not cede them to technology. We conclude with our thoughts on the open questions that need to be explored in this area but also advice on how pastors can shepherd their congregations well during this exciting time of technological advancement.
Introduction
Many Christians consider Paul’s statement “when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son” (Gal. 4:4–5) to encompass not only the theological fulfillment of God’s plan of salvation, but also as a statement concerning God’s preparation of the geographical, political, and technological backdrop into which Christ was born. Roman engineering paved the way, literally, for the fulfillment of the Great Commission (Matt. 28:18–20). A Christian appropriation of technology, however, does not stop there. It was not long before Christians transitioned from scrolls to the “new-fangled” print technology of the time—the codex—and with it our move from being “people of the scroll” to being “people of the book” (again, literally). With a belief that “every good gift and every perfect gift is from above” (James 1:17), Christians through the ages have embraced various technologies as a means of spreading the Gospel. The ever-expanding development and adoption of technology by humankind, however, requires Christians within their time and context to evaluate new technologies for their potential to be used in God-honoring ways.
Today is, in some ways, no different from any other period in history; yet, in others ways it is very different. The difference is not the need to adapt to technology, but instead the rate at which society (and consequently the church) is being forced to confront and adapt to technological advancement. Futurist Ray Kurzweil, well-known for his commentaries on the exponential growth of technology in our age, has predicted that “the Singularity is near.” Kurzweil defines “the Singularity” as “a future period during which the pace of technological change will be so rapid, its impact so deep, that human life will be irreversibly transformed.”[1] Although we as Christians would argue that true transformation only comes through the work of grace through faith, we might acknowledge that we are reaching another possible paradigm shift: the age of Artificial Intelligence (AI).
Implicit in the evaluation of many technological advancements of the past has been the view that technology is, at its core, a means of enhancing, extending, augmenting, and/or amplifying the things that we as humans do.[2] The old adage of technology doing a task “better, faster and cheaper” was in essence a statement measured against how we ourselves might do the task. However, AI is also different, for AI also has the potential to resemble, imitate, and even impersonate the things that we as humans do.
There are many tasks that we as humans accomplish that we are willing to delegate to the tools we use. AI, however, has now moved into the realm of doing things that appear more human-like, such as communicating through language (e.g., ChatGPT). As with every technology, AI has the potential to be mishandled or misappropriated. Both the power and the potency of AI have the potential to stimulate temptation, which in turn leads to people being “dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death” (James 1:13–15).
The purpose of this article is to answer the question, “What is AI?” and to reflect on its strengths and weaknesses from a biblical perspective. As mentioned, we will consider AI as (1) a tool, (2) a trainee, and (3) a temptation. In what follows, we will first briefly provide some of our theological presuppositions about technology. Second, we will give a brief tutorial on the history and terminology associated with artificial intelligence. Third, we present our threefold taxonomy and consider what it means to view AI as tool, trainee, and temptation. Finally, we conclude with some theological reflections.
Presuppositions
There is a long history of studying the ethics of technology: from life-giving uses of technology (e.g., reproductive technologies)[3] to life-ending technologies (e.g., technologies used in war).[4] The starting point of all these studies is an acknowledgment that God is the source of innovation and providentially oversees its development and use[5]: “Behold, I have created the smith who blows the fire of coals and produces a weapon for its purpose. I have also created the ravager to destroy” (Isa. 54:16). We agree with Jason Thacker that “Technology is amoral but acts as a catalyst that expands the opportunities for humanity to pursue. It is not good or evil in itself but can be designed and used for good and evil purposes.”[6]
Counter to the secular humanists who hold that “technology can solve almost any problem,” we know that our fallen condition is a problem that humanity cannot resolve. Only God can atone for sins, only God can raise the dead, only God can make a new creation. And yet, ironically, even here the payment for sins came upon a tool—the Roman cross. What man intended for evil, God used for good and the good news is that by Christ’s death, man can receive eternal life.
In light of God’s sovereign rule and our creaturely dependence, David Ehrenfeld has said that “deep within ourselves we know that our omnipotence is a sham” and “our knowledge and control of the future is weak and limited.”[7] For the purposes of this study, it is important to appreciate that technologies amplify and channel animated power.[8] Lord Acton is credited with the saying, “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” However, a recent study shows that power does not indeed corrupt; it “heightens pre-existing ethical tendencies.”[9]
Thus, as we will see, the role of AI in the church gets at deeper questions. Following the Christian ethicist Oliver O’Donovan, we hold that “If a moral ‘issue’ has arisen about a new technique, it has arisen not because of questions the technique has put to us, but of questions which we have put to the technique.”[10] The question we are putting to the “technique” of AI is: What are the liberties and boundaries God has set on us, His image-bearing creation, when we exercise our God-given talents to create images of ourselves? We may not answer all of these types of questions, but in order to understand the relevance of these questions, we must now turn to a brief tutorial on AI.
Background of AI
When discussing the background of the development of a particular technology, it is often helpful to select a transition point in history from which we can make generalized statements about the past (i.e., prior to that point), while observing what has transpired since. For the history of Artificial Intelligence (AI), World War II (WWII) demarcates a transition in computing.
In the decades prior to WWII, a “computer” was a person who computed (think: the book and movie Hidden Figures). After WWII, a large plethora of research areas emerged, for example: nuclear physics, numerical weather prediction, and digital computing. During this time period, as digital computers were able to take on more and more “computing” tasks, the nascent computer science discipline started to ask at what point a computer might “appear” human.
Many computer scientists point to Alan Turing’s 1950 paper entitled “Computing Machinery and Intelligence” as the start of AI when he posed the following question: “Can machines think?” The phrase “the Turing test” became known throughout the computer science field as the question of at what point could a human interact with an interface, asking it questions and engaging with it, in which the human could not tell whether he was dealing with a fellow human or a computer. With the Turing test firmly established, the race was on!
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The Law of God is man’s friend if he is in Christ. It is not his master, and it cannot condemn him. But it does help as a good friend does. It directs him away from the things of the flesh because when he lives this way he is hostile to God (Romans 8:7). In that state he will not submit to God’s Law. Instead the Law informs him of God’s definitions of what is good and evil. And it helps him to see just how love for God in Christ should be expressed.

The law sends us to the Gospel that we may be justified; and the Gospel sends us to the law again to inquire what is our duty as those who are justified. [1]
Recently the topic of the relationship between the Law and the Christian has been occupying a significant amount of my thoughts. That is for two main reasons: 1. I read Charles Leiter’s book The Law of Christ; and, 2. I am preaching through the book of Romans. Why have these things made me consider God’s Law?
First, Charles Leiter’s book is antinomian. That does not mean he is unconcerned with holiness or urging Christians to a righteous life. It is antinomian because Leiter dismisses God’s Law. His basic premise is that the Law (ceremonial, civil, and moral) is abrogated and serves only as an example for the new covenant Christian, unless explicitly repeated in the New Testament. To be renewed by the Holy Spirit, argues Leiter, means the heart is changed and there is a desire to imitate Christ. Therefore the Law is no longer needed. That book forced me to think about the abiding use of the Law from the perspective of someone who would remove it.
Second, preaching through Romans makes me think about the Law, but for a very different reason. Paul is constantly talking about the law. Romans has been divided into 433 verses. 51 of those, or 12% of the verses, mention the word “law”. Sixty-six of those 78 mentions are in the first seven chapters. Of those 51 verses which mention the Law, 41 appear in the first seven chapters. There are 186 verses in those chapters, which means that 22% of the verses in the first seven chapters of Romans use the word “law”. That is a major theme. But in this book, the Law is not being cancelled. Paul is helping the Christian think of the right use of the Law in his life. The Law cannot be used unto salvation, but salvation encourages a right use of the Law.
All of these things have caused me to be refreshed by the Biblical teaching that the free offer of the gospel does not negate the Law’s usefulness for the Christian. There are many Scriptural references to support this way of thinking:
John 14:15 “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.”
Romans 3:31 “Do we then overthrow the law by this faith? By no means! On the contrary, we uphold the law.”
Romans 8:7 “For the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God’s law; indeed, it cannot.”
1 John 3:4 “Everyone who makes a practice of sinning also practices lawlessness; sin is lawlessness.”
Texts like these have formed the foundation for the protestant Christian’s belief in the abiding value of God’s Law. The universal nature of this acceptance can be seen in the theological documents that were formulated throughout the Protestant Reformation.
The Sixteenth Century
The Heidelberg Catechism was published in 1563, written primarily by Zacharias Ursinus. It quickly came to be viewed as the best summation of the teachings of reformed Christianity and continues to be used and loved in many Reformed denominations. In Q. 3, the catechism establishes the Law as a convicting agent: “From where do you know your sins and misery? From the law of God.” It is commonly accepted that the Law functions in this way, but the catechism has more to say. It also describes life after the new birth, when man is renewed by the Holy Spirit. This life is the forgiven life, when man is pardoned for sin and declared righteous by faith in Christ. Describing that time, Q. 90 says, “What is the coming to life of the new nature? It is a heartfelt joy in God through Christ, and a love and delight to live according to the will of God in all good works.” And so as to make no mistake about the nature of these good works, the Catechism gives a clarifying definition in Q. 91: “But what are good works? Only those which are done out of true faith, in accordance with the law of God, and to his glory, and not those based on our own opinion or on precepts of men (Italics mine).” In the Heidelberg, the doing of good works which is part of the coming to life of the new nature, is defined by living in obedience to God’s Law.
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Death comes to us all, and God can and does work through even this for good to those who love him (Romans 8:28), but never lull yourself into the lie that death itself is anything but the terrible wages of our sin, from which we desperately need salvation (Romans 6:23). Remember that “Satan disguises himself as an angel of light” (2 Corinthians 11:14). Scripture is abundantly clear that we were never meant for death. And lest we forget, the experience of grief — to borrow from C.S. Lewis’s The Problem of Pain — shouts as with a megaphone to remind us.

“What do you consider a ‘good death’?”
A furrow creased my eyebrows. The interviewer and I had spent the last ninety minutes discussing the intricacies of end-of-life care, delving into hard topics such as life-support measures, hospice, and advance directives. I navigated those delicate subjects with confidence, but this question so troubled me that I lapsed into silence. “I hate that phrase,” I finally answered.
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Really? Why?”
While she awaited my reply, a plethora of faces and voices cluttered my mind. I saw swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks. I felt desperate grasps of my arm as loved ones crumpled to the floor in agony. I recalled the questions that hung in the air after the dying drew their last breath. I heard cries of shock and heartbreak echoing on and on, like breakers on a relentless sea.
“Because death is never good,” I said. The memories gripped me, and my voice caught. “Grief testifies to the backwardness of it. That we cry hints at an undoing of God’s created order. He designed us for something different.”
Is Death Ever Good?
The question of a “good death” may seem reasonable, even natural, given shifting views on death in Western countries. In 2021, ten thousand people in Canada died by physician-assisted suicide (PAS), wherein a doctor prescribes a lethal dose of medication for a person to self-administer, ending his own life. Canadian law now permits individuals with mental rather than terminal illness to pursue the practice. In other words, those who are otherwise healthy but suffer from psychological conditions, like depression, can seek medical help to end their own lives. In the United States, the legalization of PAS creeps across more and more states yearly.
Such trends hint at an increasingly prevalent viewpoint that death, rather than a terrible consequence of the fall, is a reasonable option to escape suffering. According to this thinking, death can be “good” if it provides relief from pain. What is more, the movement reflects a culture that upholds self-determination as an ultimate good; we live for ourselves, rather than for God.
Dear friend, when you encounter such ideas, remember that Scripture refers to death not as a phase to celebrate, but as the last enemy (1 Corinthians 15:26). Death comes to us all, and God can and does work through even this for good to those who love him (Romans 8:28), but never lull yourself into the lie that death itself is anything but the terrible wages of our sin, from which we desperately need salvation (Romans 6:23). Remember that “Satan disguises himself as an angel of light” (2 Corinthians 11:14).
Scripture is abundantly clear that we were never meant for death. And lest we forget, the experience of grief — to borrow from C.S. Lewis’s The Problem of Pain — shouts as with a megaphone to remind us.
For Now We Groan
God has confronted me with the harsh realities of death and grief more frequently than I ever would choose. As a trauma surgeon, I witnessed deaths both sudden and prolonged, peaceful and traumatic. Many of these losses imprinted on my memory, the tragedies and sorrows burned into my mind as with a branding iron.
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