Each major technological shift arrives with a familiar sense of hope. It feels as though something essential has finally been unlocked. The arrival of artificial intelligence carries this same emotional charge. Knowledge, once scarce and guarded, now appears instantly, conversationally, and at scale. The barriers that once separated experts from ordinary seekers seem to dissolve.
This feeling is not new. When the internet became widely available, many believed it would transform society into a global classroom. Anyone could read academic papers, attend virtual lectures, access sacred texts, or learn a new language from anywhere. Education no longer seemed tied to privilege or geography.
At the time, this optimism felt justified. The tools truly were revolutionary. The promise was real. Yet the world that followed did not become uniformly wiser, more reflective, or more humane. Something subtler occurred, something that forces us to reconsider what access alone can accomplish.
Access Without Transformation
The reality that emerged after the internet’s rise was uneven and sobering. While knowledge became widely available, depth did not follow automatically. Instead of broad intellectual awakening, many spaces became dominated by small groups reinforcing their own views. Arguments multiplied. Gossip traveled faster than understanding. Attention fragmented.
This was not because the internet lacked serious material. Libraries were there. Lectures were there. Sacred texts were there. What was missing was not information but intention. The tools were capable of teaching, but few approached them with the patience or humility required to be taught.
The lesson was quiet but important. Human growth does not occur simply because resources exist. Something internal must shift. Without that shift, even the most advanced systems become mirrors of our existing habits rather than doors to transformation.
AI as the Ultimate Test of This Pattern
Artificial intelligence intensifies this lesson. Unlike the internet, AI does not merely store information. It responds, synthesizes, explains, and engages. It is capable of sustained dialogue, tailored explanation, and historical breadth that no individual could replicate alone.
In theory, this should change everything. AI can help people ask difficult questions about faith, meaning, suffering, ethics, and the future. It can adapt explanations to the learner rather than forcing the learner to adapt to rigid systems. It feels like an ideal companion for serious inquiry.
Yet the same risk remains. AI can also be reduced to speed. Faster emails. Faster summaries. Faster answers. When used this way, it does not deepen life. It accelerates what already exists. The presence of intelligence does not guarantee the presence of wisdom.
Pastors, Sermons, and the Exposure of What Was Never Essential
This tension becomes clear in religious contexts, particularly in Christian ministry. Sermon preparation has long been treated as a core pastoral responsibility. Hours or days are devoted to crafting messages that are accurate, engaging, and well structured.
AI can now perform much of this work in seconds. It can generate sermon outlines, theological explanations, historical context, and illustrative examples with ease. This capability forces a difficult but honest question. If this part can be automated so easily, was it ever the heart of pastoral calling?
The life of Jesus suggests otherwise. His authority did not emerge from polish or preparation in the modern sense. It emerged from presence, integrity, and attentiveness to people. Teaching happened through encounters, questions, stories, and lived example. The power of his words came from who he was with people, not from technical refinement.
AI does not diminish ministry. It reveals where ministry was quietly confused with production.
Knowledge, Humility, and the Biblical Reversal
Christian scripture has always treated knowledge with caution. Paul repeatedly warned against equating wisdom with education or rhetorical skill. God, he argued, often chose the uneducated to humble the confident. Jesus blessed those who were poor in spirit, not those rich in certainty.
This inversion is striking in the age of AI. If knowledge alone were the measure of faithfulness, AI would already surpass humanity. It holds theology, history, language, and commentary in vast quantities. And yet it believes nothing. It loves no one. It cannot repent or obey.
The contrast clarifies something ancient. Faith is not about accumulation. It is about orientation. Knowledge can support faith, but it cannot replace humility, trust, or transformation. AI makes this truth difficult to ignore.
From the Printing Press to AI: Democratization Revisited
The comparison to the Reformation is helpful. When the Bible was translated into vernacular languages and printed widely, access expanded dramatically. Interpretation was no longer monopolized by a small educated elite. Ordinary believers could read scripture directly.
This shift was revolutionary, but it did not automatically create faithful lives. It created responsibility. Each reader now had to decide how to engage the text. Some were transformed. Others ignored it. Access changed the landscape, not the heart.
AI represents a similar moment, perhaps even more radical. It removes intellectual barriers almost entirely. No advanced degree is required to ask theological or philosophical questions. The gatekeeping of expertise collapses. But again, responsibility shifts inward.
The Missing Ingredient: Readiness
There is an old saying shared across traditions. “When the student is ready, the teacher appears.” This is often misunderstood as a promise of external guidance. In practice, it points to something internal. Readiness alters perception.
The teacher was always there. The text was always available. The experience was always speaking. Readiness allows it to be heard. Without readiness, even the clearest explanation feels empty.
This explains why people can live surrounded by scripture, technology, and learning resources and remain unchanged. The issue is not scarcity. It is posture. Readiness requires openness, patience, and the willingness to be unsettled.
Dialogue Versus Consumption
This distinction shapes how AI is used. When treated as a consumption tool, AI delivers answers efficiently but leaves the user unchanged. When treated as a dialogical partner, it becomes something else. Questions deepen. Assumptions are challenged. Reflection replaces speed.
The same distinction applies to faith practices. Scripture can be consumed or encountered. Prayer can be routine or honest. Technology simply amplifies what already exists. It does not create depth, but it can support it when depth is desired.
AI becomes meaningful only when it participates in a larger practice of reflection, not when it replaces it.
Suffering as the Teacher That Never Failed
One teacher has always resisted automation. Suffering. It interrupts illusions of control and exposes what truly matters. It humbles the confident and clarifies priorities in ways no lecture can.
Suffering does not explain itself. It teaches through experience rather than instruction. This is why it has played such a central role in spiritual traditions. It cannot be bypassed by intelligence alone.
AI cannot replace this teacher. But it can help articulate what suffering reveals. It can help people reflect, pray, and make sense of pain. Again, readiness determines whether this happens.
When the World Begins to Teach
At a certain depth of readiness, teaching no longer feels localized. It no longer belongs only to books, sermons, or conversations. Life itself begins to speak. Encounters carry meaning. Silence instructs. Ordinary moments feel charged with significance.
This is not about attributing divinity to the universe. It is about perception. When humility deepens, guidance becomes easier to recognize. The world begins to feel held rather than hostile.
Many religious traditions describe this as grace. Not a reward for knowledge, but a response to openness.
AI as Mirror, Not Master
AI fits naturally into this frame. It is neither savior nor threat by default. It reflects intention. When approached superficially, it amplifies superficiality. When approached thoughtfully, it supports growth.
It does not determine the future of faith or knowledge. It reveals posture. It shows whether we seek comfort or transformation, speed or understanding.
In this sense, AI is one of the clearest mirrors humanity has created.
A Quiet Hope Beyond Optimism
There is no guarantee that AI will lead to deeper faith or wiser societies. Tribalism, distraction, and shallow use will continue. Technology cannot overcome human resistance to growth.
Yet there is reason for restrained hope. For those who are ready, AI can become one teacher among many. Not replacing scripture, community, or suffering, but standing alongside them as a companion for reflection.
The true change is not technological. It is the return of readiness. When readiness appears, the teacher does not arrive from outside. It reveals itself in what was already there.
And perhaps that has always been the point.
Image: Stockcake
Tom’s Blog 