Human Flourishing and Artificial Intelligence

As information accelerates, so do theological debates. Issues rise and fall far more quickly than they did in previous generations.

In earlier eras, major controversies unfolded slowly. The church's struggle for doctrinal clarity on the person of Christ, for example, demanded generations of careful exegesis, sustained argument, and the hard work of councils, pastors, and theologians before key formulations were widely received.

By contrast, contemporary debates often burn hot and brief—sometimes before the average congregation even learns the vocabulary:

• The Emergent Church gained prominence rapidly, then largely receded within a few years.
• The New Perspective on Paul once generated intense discussion, but today it surfaces mostly in connection with particular scholars (and it arguably never penetrated popular theology as deeply as some expected).
• "Woke" ideology in the church dominated headlines and controversies for a season; whether it is truly fading or simply mutating, its cultural momentum has clearly shifted.

Yet beneath the quickening pace, an older, more durable question has returned with fresh force—one that seems poised to shape theological conversation for years: What does it mean to be human, and what does it mean for humans to flourish?

Right now, that question shows up most visibly in debates over gender and sexuality. These are real and painful conflicts, but the church is not starting from scratch. We draw from two millennia of Scripture-saturated reflection even as contemporary society rapidly manufactures new categories.

But a more challenging debate is about to be thrust upon us: the theological implications of Artificial Intelligence.

Questions we will soon be forced to address include:

• If AI can perform nearly every human task, should it—and what will that do to human vocation and dignity?
• When AI can generate literature that rivals (or surpasses) human work, what does it mean to create, to receive, and to value art? If AI produces music that outpaces human artistry—should we celebrate it, resist it, or learn to make sharper distinctions about what art is for? In November 2025 the number one album and Christian song on iTunes was by AI-generated "artist" Solomon Ray.
• What happens to education and expertise? Will future doctors, for example, possess deep personal knowledge—or will competence become increasingly mediated through AI systems?

AI is also impacting relationship dynamics. People are already claiming they are "marrying" AI bots. This week, I had an ad hit me on Facebook: a young-looking woman offering private, "anything goes" interaction—she was an AI bot, inviting users to pay for explicit and degrading scenarios. Meanwhile, even church leaders are experimenting with synthetic versions of themselves. One megachurch pastor has created an app with an AI version of "himself," offering congregants "personalized, one-on-one interactions" with their pastor 24/7—for the low fee of just $49.

So what happens when AI can provide genuinely helpful counsel? Or generate compelling sermons? Or simulate pastoral presence with warmth, insight, and responsiveness—without being a real person at all? What happens to authority, trust, and discipleship? Will you even ask your friends or your pastor a question? And if you do, will they ask ChatGPT how to answer?

I use AI to help me, but the boundaries are not clear in my own head right now. These questions will not be solved with slogans. They will press the church to draw deeply from its historical resources—and, at the same time, to develop careful, biblically rooted wisdom for problems our forebears never imagined.

I don't think most of us are ready for what is about to happen.