Articles on Theology and Leadership

Author: Chris (Page 3 of 3)

An Artificial Intelligence Tall Tale

Tall tales have an ongoing relevance, and the wisest man there ever was reminds us that there is nothing new under the sun. The tall tale of John Henry is as applicable today as ever.

John Henry went up against a steam-powered drilling machine in an epic contest. He beat the machine but lost his life. The practical implications have spanned the railroads and automation across industries, and now, we are in the modern era where artificial intelligence is at the forefront of our societal conversation.
A blogging champion may arise to go toe-to-toe with Chat GPT. Unfortunately, we’ve already seen the results of that match-up, and humanity cannot compete in producing content. However, there are more profound questions to ask than whether or not artificial intelligence can do things more efficiently.

Will our literature be reduced to zeroes and ones? Can artistic beauty and creativity be computed? What are the long-term effects of sidelining people in the creative process?

Imagine a hero named Gates Jeffreys rising to challenge artificial intelligence to a dual of creative wits. The AI has five articles written before Gates can finish brainstorming a topic. Yet those five articles are missing something. Make no mistake, there are no mistakes. There is also no heart. There are no subtle, intuitive turns of phrase that bring empathy through a written format because of personal experience.

Gates Jeffreys possesses the spark of inspiration that comes through the ebbs and flows of human existence. AI can try to replicate patterns that emulate, but it cannot have a gut instinct. So, while the algorithms generated blog content twelve times faster than Gates, he followed a hunch and wrote something entirely uncharacteristic of his usual style. That hunch led to something that the competition metrics wouldn’t measure: meaningful resonance on a personal level.

Gates’ single article reached someone who needed to hear his story, and they reached out to him. The shared experience brought healing and discussion of connecting with others facing the same issue. AI pumped out another slew of articles, but Gates’ impulsive decision to finally share his story led to a movement of healing.

The debate on artificial intelligence is just beginning. Many, much more knowledgeable about the topic than I, are making decisions that will shape our future. Nonetheless, there is another layer to the conversation, and I encourage all my fellow humans to keep writing, thinking, discussing, connecting, planning, painting, and performing. A coded program may do it more proficiently, but it cannot do it more “human.”

A New Wine Reformation

Time cyclically dulls our memories. This gap in remembrance occurs over centuries, decades, or even weeks. We lapse into a Pharisaical understanding of faith and find ourselves settling for the old wine of works instead of the new wine of the gospel. We are also offended by Jesus forgiving sins (Mark 2:7), eating with tax collectors and sinners (Mark 2:16), his disciples’ lack of religious observance like fasting (Mark 2:18), or plucking grain on the sabbath (Mark 2:24). The religious gatekeepers in the reformation era were offended by scripture being available in the common language and relinquishing their authority to Christ.

Reformation New Wine

The new wine of Christ, crucified and resurrected, is poured fresh and anew into the old wineskins of our expectations, and the results are explosive. The reformation was such a rediscovery with implications still felt today. Indulgences and meritorious works had become commonplace while the church became the intermediary between the ordinary person and God. Years of observance, tradition, and ignorance aged the wineskins of society. The reformers poured the new wine of the solas, and the church still feels the ripple effects.

Just as the reformers came along and identified how the church’s practices had veered away from the scriptural realities of justification by faith alone, we must examine current church practices to see where we are operating counterintuitively to the gospel. The new wine is perpetually ready to do its exploding work.

An Old, New Wine

While protestants are in doctrinal alignment with sola fide, we still tend to hand out prescriptions to treat the symptoms of our sin sickness. Spiritual disciplines and experiences have become the new indulgences. Spiritual disciplines are a good thing, but they are not a justifying thing. They do not impact our standing before God. Spiritual experiences can be incredible, but they can also be incredibly misleading. Experiences have ebbs and flows, and we must weigh them against scripture.

God has promised that He would continuously work in the bread and the wine for the forgiveness of sins (Matthew 26:28). The proclaimed gospel and the sins forgiven in the body and blood of Christ broken for sinners should explode the old wineskins of our misguided drifting to merit each time we receive the Lord’s supper and hear the good news heralded. These basic paradigms of Christianity are the old, new wine that shatters our illusions of faith by works.

Tasting New wine

Jesus’s offensive statement that we must eat His body and drink His blood to have eternal life was a new wine many of His followers’ wineskins could not contain. Modern reformation can only happen when we embrace this scandalously meritless and merciful promise (John 6:54).

The goodness of the good news is so powerful that it is unbelievable, except by faith. Many cannot accept that salvation rests entirely outside themselves, their effort, or their performance. The new wine of Christ’s all-sufficient, atoning sacrifice tastes off to our pseudo-connoisseur palates.

Our quest for a massive outpouring of religious fervor is an exercise in frivolity. Such an awakening cannot be manufactured by increased spiritual grit (disciplines) or the sweeping emotional movements we’ve become adept at creating. Instead, all we have to do is pour out the gospel and watch as any expectation that doesn’t align explodes.

Make Christianity Christian Again

What makes Christianity Christian if not Christ? That is a self-evident question with an obvious answer; however, the church’s current status betrays that foregone conclusion. There is a spectrum of moralization and motivation that removes faith, grace, imputed righteousness, and Christ’s atoning work and resurrection. What’s left of the faith after such removal isn’t Christianity at all. 

Moralization

When Christianity is a paradigm for moral reform, we ironically strip it of its impact on morality. We are quick to criticize pursuing Jesus for the sake of bread instead of the one who speaks of eating His flesh and drinking His blood (John 6). Still, we fail to see that pursuing Jesus, who curtails our cursing and modifies our behavior, is no different. Seeking the side effects instead of the source is no less real when we substitute moral lives for bread.

Let’s be clear. All scripture is profitable, and Christians must live their lives in light of the revelation of God’s character, as seen in the Bible. However, this is a result of God’s working in us, not the basis for God’s working in us. When we moralize the faith, we view scripture as a rulebook that helps us balance the ledgers. With this view, we could hand out copies of Aesop’s fables to the same effect as many sermons. 

When the Christian faith is moralized, we’ve traded the supernatural work of the Holy Spirit through the proclamation of the gospel and the Sacraments for an evangelical form of operant conditioning. Preachers ring the bell to produce the prescribed response, with obedience expected. But we are humans created imago dei, not dogs, pigeons, or rats, to train into compliance. Scripture is profitable for training in righteousness, but the righteous shall live by faith (Galatians 3:11). We must “Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.’ For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners” (Matthew 9:13). 

Motivation

If we reduce Christianity to the spark that ignites the human engine of pursuing dreams, then it collapses like a neutron star. A merely motivational Christianity should defer to Tony Robbins or Dave Ramsey and hold pep rally conferences instead of services. Such motivational showmanship is increasingly common, and we are less aware of the absurdity. 

The human condition is dire. An energetic speech to boost morale and productivity is insidiously and pragmatically effective. We may lift our heads and set our hands to the plow as we’re distracted from the true problem of our sinful condition and achieve a measure of bootstrap success. “For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul” (Matthew 16:26)?

When motivation becomes the focus, then elements of Christianity become tools to improve our outlooks, performance, and lives. We misdiagnose the disease, and the wrong prescription is issued. In critical need of spiritual defibrillation, today’s Christianity offers the placebos of pamphlets, inspiring talks, and action items. The best motivational tools fail to produce a broken and contrite heart, which is the sacrifice God requires (Psalm 51:16-18).

Mitigation

How can we engage with morality and motivation gone awry? One dangerous impulse is to minimize the law, so we invert Paul’s question and rebuke on continuing in sin that grace may abound. Another is to burrow under our actions and link our faith to the sincerity and passion of our hearts. Both are problematic. 

No creed but Christ is a naive, reductionistic attempt to simplify Christianity and reclaim focus that equally misses the mark. Christ and creed would be a better paradigm. Christianity is the faith once and for all delivered to the saints (Jude 3). Christ alone is the means of our salvation, and this divine savior has affirmed and fulfilled sacred scripture. This is not a call for reductionism but for focus. True gospel centrality goes much deeper than a cursory nod toward the atoning work of Christ for sinners on any given Sunday. However, it does not bypass orthodoxy and the whole counsel of God in scripture in the process. 

One proposed antidote to superficiality is the approach of Jonathan Edwards and John Piper to point us to the affections. The trouble is that beneath the behavioral level of our sin is the corrupted heart level of our sin. Calling people to fix their affections is no better than calling people to correct their behavior. We need a savior outside ourselves to take our sins and impute His righteousness. Once we die and rise with Christ, new desires and the fruit of the new birth will naturally follow. 

Making Christianity Christian again defies nebulous, shallow motivation and rigid behavior-obsessed moralization versions of the faith. It shines the spotlight on Christ crucified for sinners because that’s where the scriptures place it. We’ve falsely assumed or surrendered to the notion that the true power of Christianity is to live victoriously or produce results. Ironically, faulty motivation and moralization suffer from the same fatal flaw. They make idols out of the product of faith. The true power of Christianity rests in humility and death (Philippians 2:6-11). Morality and motivation are supernatural works of God through Christ’s redeeming work given to us in word and sacrament. To make them the aim instead of the result is to strip Christianity of what makes it Christian.

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