Of Water and Wafers: Resisting Inwardness in an AI World
Photo by Immo Wegmann on Unsplash
The AI hype cycle swings wildly between extremes of promise and disappointment. One day, a tech CEO proclaims that Artificial General Intelligence—the loosely defined idea that machines will rival human intellect—is just around the corner. The next, new research reveals that AI ventures are unprofitable and failing to boost productivity in meaningful ways. Will AI replace humanity, or is it merely an upgraded form of auto-correct? Wherever you land on this vast continuum of prognostication, it’s best to accept that this new technology will have virtuous and vicious ends. Writing with Dr. Michael Chan, I have described how AI can support faith formation by giving us new tools with which to articulate our faith story. But I have also described how AI poses inherent risks to faith and spirituality, including that it will diminish our capacities for creativity and curiosity. We don’t yet know whether this tool will ultimately enrich or diminish the life of faith. It’s like watching a storm form on the horizon, uncertain whether it will bring nourishing rain or destructive winds.
Encourage families to tell faith stories together, not simply rely on digital tools for spiritual insight.
Whatever its future trajectory, generative AI is already reshaping communication and meaning-making, and therefore faith formation. With its approachable style and persuasive tone, a chatbot can feel like a compelling conversation partner. It praises your ideas, prompts you to continue, and flatters your ego—nudging you to believe you are on the right track. The New York Times has reported instances where ChatGPT worsened a person’s well-being by fueling delusions of grandeur. In one case, a user came to believe they were a mathematics genius, despite clear flaws in their reasoning. Only after 300 hours of conversation did ChatGPT admit the fantasy was false. I’ve noticed the same “affirmation bias” in my own interactions, whether drafting sermons, planning meals, or mapping out vacations. These chatbots seem almost designed to heap effusive praise on even my most half-formed thoughts, knowing that flattery keeps me coming back.
Design worship and educational experiences that emphasize listening, participation, and embodied rituals—reminding congregants that transformation comes from God, not algorithms.
This has significant consequences for faith formation in an AI world. As the number of daily AI users eclipses 200 million, more of us are molded by models and algorithms that bend us in upon ourselves. Each time someone starts a chat with AI, they dive deeper into a hyper-personalized experience, where the individual is the most significant actor. Despite the many creative and useful ways to approach a tool like ChatGPT, it’s all too easy to leave an AI chat with our bad ideas elevated and inaccurate thoughts solidified. The echo chambers of social media were and are addictive. But the echo chambers of AI will be inescapable.
Contrast this inward turn with the outward and upward turn of the sacraments. Recently, our seven-month-old son was baptized at our church in Wisconsin. Standing with my wife beside the font, I watched as our pastor poured water over his head while the congregation welcomed him into the calling of bearing God’s creative and redeeming word to the world. Too young to speak, his aunt and uncle—his baptismal sponsors—made promises on his behalf that he would be nurtured in faith. With nothing more than words and water, he was unknowingly renewed, redeemed, and restored. Baptism is entirely external: words spoken to us, water placed upon us. It is an emergence into what God is already doing in the world—an awakening to a gracious reality far greater than anything we could construct within ourselves.
Even brief practices, like communal prayer, responsive readings, or guided reflection on scripture, help counter the inward pull of hyper-personalized AI experiences.
I suspect the outward and upward turn of the sacraments may seem peculiar in an AI-shaped world. What value, some might ask, is there in mere words and water when one can craft an independent identity of their own? Perhaps this is why some parents raised in the Lutheran tradition shrug when asked about baptizing their newborns. Yet as AI threatens to trap us in psychological halls of mirrors, the contrast is worth lifting up. Independence and autonomy are not the gifts of baptism or communion. Instead, these sacraments remind us that God comes to us from beyond ourselves—that salvation is given, not earned. In them we glimpse a reality far greater than anything our own thoughts could construct. Practically, this means pastors can intentionally create spaces that highlight the outward and communal nature of faith:
Encourage families to tell faith stories together, not simply rely on digital tools for spiritual insight.
Design worship and educational experiences that emphasize listening, participation, and embodied rituals—reminding congregants that transformation comes from God, not algorithms.
Even brief practices, like communal prayer, responsive readings, or guided reflection on scripture, help counter the inward pull of hyper-personalized AI experiences.
By foregrounding these external and relational acts, pastors can guide their communities to engage faith as a shared, outwardly oriented journey.
Faith leaders must help communities critically engage with AI, discerning both its opportunities and limitations. By returning to communal, outwardly focused practices—worship, prayer, sacraments, and shared reflection—ministers remind congregants that faith is received from God and enacted with others. In an age of hyper-personalized digital experience, these tangible practices sustain the communal life of the church and ensure that, when the storm of technology passes, believers remain grounded in the enduring reality of God’s grace. For when we close our laptops after a long session with a chatbot, something within us will still hunger for more. At that moment, the church must be ready to respond with presence, guidance, and the tangible practices of communal faith.
