We were designed to work, to dream, to create. Humans are amazingly stamped with the beauty and intelligence of our Creator, and we thrive when we push ourselves to do amazing things. And we’re so capable of doing amazing things, aren’t we?

Cathedrals that stretch into the clouds with such intricate design. Paintings that pull us into landscapes and scenes we’ve never been to. Symphonies that evoke emotion and passion within us. Technology that boggles the mind. Human hands stitch arteries back together and level cities in the same breath. Our eyes gaze upon sunsets and war crimes. Our mouths bless the bread and curse the baker. Everything we feel, fear, or fantasize leaks into the canvas, the code, and the stories we tell — the world itself wears our fingerprints.

A friend once told me, “Humans are the best part of this world, and humans are the worst part of this world.” He was right. We’re the paradox in motion: The only beings carved in the image of God. The only ones capable of loving until it ruptures us. The only ones who stare at a star and ask, what if I could hold it? Who else — what else — thinks deeply about the world around us? What is life if not the echo of a human soul ricocheting through all the Lord has created in this temporary dwelling place?

And yet.

A shadow is sliding across the workshop floor. It has keys to the factory, the gallery, and the operating theater. It’s studying our rhythms, mimicking our brushstrokes, predicting what comes next. Many chant, “progress!” Some call it partner. Others whisper usurper. It’s formal name? Artificial intelligence. You probably already have an opinion on it. Good. Hold it close, because the next chapter of the human story isn’t being written by machines alone — it’s being co-authored. The pen is still trembling in our carbon-based hands, and the question is not, can they replace us? Rather, it’s, what do we become when we let them try?

The word that rises first is mindlessness. Possibly laziness also break the surface. I don’t lose sleep over AI conquering the planet. After all, it’s our orphan — relatively powerless without us. Nor do I dread Big Tech overlords marching us into servitude against our will. No, my fear is subtler: that we will voluntarily trade our birthright for convenience. Rather than being coerced, we’ll be seduced. Just look around. It’s already happening.

AI pens term papers while students doomscroll. It composes tunes that fool the masses. It won’t take long before deepfakes star in cinema human directors hardly touch. Soon, maybe even entire franchises will be born through AI. Why? Because it’s easy. Easier than cracking a book. Easier than wrestling to create a melody from silence. Easier than wrangling actors, budgets, and egos. It’s easier to let the machine do all the heavy lifting while we recline, thumbs twitching, dopamine dripping.

It’s easier… but is it better? Well, you tell me.

Is it better that we’re less creative and less inclined to put in actual effort? Is it better that we’re teaching ourselves that it’s okay not to think independently since AI is faster and more convenient? Is it better that we’re losing jobs to machines while we do… what, exactly?

Is it better that generations graduate unable to string a paragraph without Chat GPT? That musicians relinquish inspirational sparks for technological shortcuts? That filmmakers become glorified prompt engineers? That we applaud that which we never labored for? It’s like we’re training ourselves to waste away. It’s as if we’re simply waiting for the day the soul stops asking, what if? and starts asking instead, what’s the shortest path to results?

It’s like we’re dismantling the very economy of meaning. If AI drafts your love letter, what remains of your heart? If it generates your sermon, what happens to your faith? Are we going to let it diagnose our children or write eulogies for the people we loved? Words and actions are supposed to be saturated with the human touch — the very fingerprint that points to our Creator and Savior. Life is supposed to have meaning — meaning that only humans can truly probe and truly convey. The machines will never love, grieve, or forgive. They’ll never stand at a grave and feel the earth tilt. They’ll never risk everything on a half-formed hunch that beauty matters more than efficiency. They’ll never have hardened hearts that are made alive by the gospel. They’re not beings, made in the image of God, and created with the purpose of dwelling with Him for eternity.

They’re here now. But one day, they’ll be gone. The very machines alluring us to mindlessness won’t be present on the other side of glory. Only us image bearers, repentant and born again in Christ, will experience abundant life as it was meant to be lived. Only us image bearers, repentant and born again in Christ, care about the souls still lost in darkness.

Despite how it seems, I don’t believe AI is evil. But like all good things in a broken world, it can be abused. It already is being abused. AI is not evil in and of itself, but it’s being used in ways that are not conducive to human flourishing. And it’s not going anywhere. So, what are we to do? Draw a line in the sand: AI is a mirror, not a master. It can only reflect what we humans put into it. It can only go the directions we allow it to go. Demand friction. Embrace failure and flaws. Ask yourself: what will become of us if we can no longer think for ourselves and create that which has depth and meaning? What will become of us if the beauty of what makes us human is put on the back burner? What will become of us if we allow mindlessness to takeover?

The pen may tremble, and that’s okay — let it tremble. But by all means, keep it in human hands.