There are days when I know exactly what I want to say, but my mind refuses to cooperate. The thought is there. The emotion is there. The lesson God has been placing on my heart is there. But because of the brain fog that has accompanied this season of illness and treatment, turning those scattered pieces into something readable can sometimes feel almost impossible.

That is one of the primary reasons artificial intelligence has become such a useful tool in my life.

Technology has always fascinated me. Whether it is through my career in emergency management, writing books, working around our property, or simply trying to solve the next practical problem life places in front of me, I have always enjoyed learning. If there is a better way to accomplish something, I usually want to understand it. That curiosity eventually led me to something many people are still trying to understand themselves: artificial intelligence.

Depending on who you ask, AI is either one of the greatest inventions of our generation or something we should fear at all costs. Some Christians approach it with deep concern, wondering whether something so powerful could eventually be used for deception, control, or evil. I understand that caution; I personally believe technology like artificial intelligence could one day play a significant role in the systems and deception described in end-times prophecy.

Scripture does not specifically name artificial intelligence, so I cannot claim to know exactly how it may be used. But I do believe Christians should remain watchful as technology becomes more capable and increasingly woven into nearly every part of our lives. At the same time, caution is not the same thing as fear—and fear alone is not the same thing as discernment.

Tools, Hearts, and Intentions

Like nearly every tool humanity has ever created, artificial intelligence has the potential to be used for tremendous good or tremendous harm. A hammer can build a home or break a window. The internet can spread the Gospel around the world or spread lies just as quickly. A phone can connect families across great distances or quietly consume every free moment we have. Technology itself does not determine the outcome—the heart of the person using it does.

Over the past year, AI has quietly become part of my daily life. I primarily use two platforms—ChatGPT and Gemini—but I approach them for very different reasons.

ChatGPT has become something like my writing editor and sounding board. It helps me gather ideas, think through different directions, organize my thoughts, and turn the things already in my mind into something readable. It does not give me my testimony. The experiences are mine. The faith questions are mine. The memories, fears, struggles, lessons, and hope behind these posts come entirely from the life God has allowed me to live. AI simply helps me arrange those pieces when my brain struggles to hold them all at once.

There have been moments when I have felt slightly guilty about that, wondering whether leaning on AI so heavily somehow makes me less of a writer or makes the finished work less mine. But I have slowly begun to view it differently. My brain fog has not taken away my desire to tell stories or encourage others; it has simply made it more difficult to organize those thoughts into a finished product. Using a tool to bridge that gap does not erase the heart behind the words. It helps me continue using the gift God gave me during a season when using it has become harder.

Gemini fills a different, highly practical role. It is often where I go when I have immediate questions around the farm:

 How do I care for a chicken recovering from nerve damage?

 Do my plants look healthy?

 Why can a sinus infection cause so much pain and pressure?

 How far should a weeping willow be planted from a septic system?

It has become another tool for gathering information and identifying questions I may need to ask. Of course, that does not mean AI should replace doctors, veterinarians, horticulturists, or other qualified professionals. It can help me understand terminology or prepare for a conversation, but it should never become a substitute for real care when real care is needed.

Still, there have been difficult days when both platforms have offered encouraging words that helped me slow down, gather my thoughts, and regain perspective. As strange as that may sound, those interactions have also taught me something unexpected: they have reminded me how deeply I long for real conversation with God.

Not because I expect Him to answer every question the moment I ask it, and not because I need a status update on every prayer. Sometimes I simply wish I could sit down across from Him and ask, “How are you doing?”

Maybe you have felt that way, too.

There are times when I talk to God and He seems quiet for a while. I know He is not ignoring me, and I know silence does not mean absence. But waiting can still be difficult. When I type a question into an AI platform, I usually receive an answer within seconds. The more I use it, the more natural that instant rhythm becomes: I ask, it answers. I ask again, it answers again.

Then, I sometimes carry that same instant expectation into my relationship with God. I pray, I wait, and when heaven feels quiet, I begin to wonder why. But maybe the problem is not that God has become silent; maybe I have become accustomed to living in a world that rarely requires waiting.

We have been conditioned to expect immediate information. Need directions? Open an app. Need a recipe? Search for one. Need help understanding something complicated? Ask AI. There is nothing inherently wrong with any of those things, but I wonder how often we exhaust every technological resource before we ever stop to pray.

How often do we search online before we search the Scriptures?

How often do we ask a chatbot before we bow our heads?

How often do we gather information from every available source except the One who sees the entire picture?

One of the greatest spiritual dangers facing our generation may not be artificial intelligence itself—it may be artificial dependence.

We have become incredibly good at seeking information, but have we become equally intentional about seeking God? Convenience can quietly train us to become self-sufficient, but prayer reminds us that we are not. Prayer reminds us that we are created, limited, and dependent upon the One who sees what we cannot see.

Competence vs. Dependence

I am trained to assess problems, locate resources, anticipate needs, and look for solutions. Those skills have served me well throughout my 13-year career in emergency management. But those same instincts can also make self-reliance feel natural. There is always another plan to develop, another resource to locate, another option to consider, and another problem to solve.

Prayer reminds me that preparation is not the same thing as control. Knowledge is not the same thing as wisdom. And competence is not the same thing as dependence on God.

Prayerlessness rarely begins with a conscious decision to stop needing Him; it usually happens quietly. We become busy. We solve one problem on our own, search for another answer online, and tell ourselves we will pray later. Eventually, we may still believe in God while living most of our day as though everything depends entirely on us.

That is what makes prayerlessness so dangerous: it does not always look like rebellion. Sometimes it looks like competence. Sometimes it looks like productivity. Sometimes it even looks like wisdom—until we realize that we have gathered advice from every available source while barely speaking to God at all.

Prayer is not simply presenting God with a list of requests; it is not a customer service line where we submit a problem and wait for a case number. Prayer is relationship. It is where we confess, listen, worship, surrender, and allow our hearts to be brought into alignment with His.

 I have gone to God asking for answers and walked away with peace instead.

 I have asked Him to remove a burden and discovered that He was teaching me how to carry it.

 I have asked for immediate solutions and found that what I really needed was greater trust.

 I have asked for clarity and received only enough light to take the next faithful step.

Prayer does not always change our circumstances—more often, it changes us.

What AI Can and Cannot Do

AI can remind me to pray because it has learned that prayer matters to me. It can quote Scripture, offer encouraging words, or help me think through a spiritual question. But it cannot hear my prayer. It cannot answer on behalf of God. It cannot convict my heart through the Holy Spirit. It cannot forgive my sin, restore my soul, or transform me into the person God created me to become.

It can point toward truth, but it can never become the source of Truth.

The longer I have thought about wisdom, technology, and prayer, the more often I have found myself returning to the book of Proverbs. Thousands of years before search engines, smartphones, and artificial intelligence, God gave us a book devoted to wisdom. Not merely information—wisdom.

Proverbs teaches us about humility, integrity, patience, self-control, discernment, diligence, speech, relationships, money, justice, and the fear of the Lord. It does not answer every modern conditional question we may encounter, but it does something far more valuable: it teaches us how to think. It teaches us to examine our motives, receive correction, and guard against pride. It warns us that intelligence without humility can still lead us in the wrong direction.

Proverbs 1:7 tells us:

“Fear of the Lord is the foundation of true knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and discipline.”

Wisdom does not begin with education, access to information, or technology. It begins with God. That does not mean learning or research is wrong; God gave us curious minds and the ability to create, study, discover, and reason. But all of those things must remain underneath His authority.

Proverbs 3:5–6 says:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take.”

I have read those verses many times, but the word lean stands out to me differently now. What we lean on is what carries our weight—it is what we depend on when the path becomes uncertain. Understanding is valuable, but our understanding was never designed to carry the full weight of our lives. Technology can be useful, education is a gift, and research has tremendous value. AI can summarize information, organize ideas, and help someone like me continue writing when brain fog makes finding the right words difficult. I am genuinely thankful for that.

But none of those things were ever designed to carry the weight of my soul. Only Christ can do that.

Discerning Truth in the Noise

Proverbs also reminds us to be careful about accepting the first answer simply because it sounds convincing. Proverbs 18:13 warns against answering before listening, and Proverbs 18:17 teaches that one side of a story may appear correct until it is examined more closely.

Those principles matter tremendously in the age of artificial intelligence. AI can produce an answer that sounds confident and polished while still being incomplete, misleading, or wrong. (Then again, so can people!) Wisdom requires us to slow down, examine what we hear, check reliable sources, seek godly counsel, and measure every claim against Scripture.

That is why the Bible is so essential for every follower of Christ. God already knows us completely. Psalm 139 reminds us that He knows when we sit and when we rise, understanding our thoughts before we even speak them. The question has never been whether God knows us; the question is whether we are taking the time to know Him.

The Bible is the living Word through which God has revealed His character, His holiness, His promises, His plan of redemption, and His heart toward humanity. The more time we spend in Scripture, the more familiar we become with the voice and character of God—and the better prepared we are to recognize deception.

There have been moments when I believed God was leading me in a certain direction, only for a little voice of doubt to whisper, “Was that really God, or was that simply what you wanted to hear?” Those questions have led me back to Scripture again and again. God will never contradict His Word. His leading will never call me toward sin, pride, dishonesty, cruelty, or anything that opposes His character.

 Prayer helps me seek Him.

 Scripture helps me know Him.

 The Holy Spirit helps me discern what is true.

That is a foundation no technological advancement can ever replace.

Rooted in the Ancient Practices

I am learning that when God feels quiet, He has not stopped being present. Sometimes He is asking me to return to something He has already spoken in His Word. Sometimes He is changing circumstances I cannot yet see. Sometimes He is allowing the waiting to expose what I am truly leaning on. And sometimes He is developing roots beneath the surface before I ever see fruit above it. His silence does not mean indifference, and His delay does not mean denial.

As our world continues to change at a pace few of us could have imagined, we will need more discernment, not less. We will need to ask not only, “Can I use this?” but also, “Should I?” We will need to consider whether a tool is serving us or quietly shaping us. We will need to guard against allowing convenience to replace patience, information to replace wisdom, or constant answers to replace prayer. Not because we fear technology, but because we love truth.

I am not afraid to use a tool that helps me gather information, organize my thoughts, and continue writing when brain fog makes that difficult. I am grateful for it. But gratitude for a tool must never become dependence on it. AI may help me find the words, but God gives those words purpose. It may help me consider a question, but God alone knows every answer. It may offer encouragement based on what it has learned about me, but only the Holy Spirit can meet me in the deepest places of my heart.

So I will continue using technology with wisdom, asking questions, checking sources, learning, and creating. But I also want to become more intentional about the ancient practices no new invention can replace:

 Prayer

 Scripture

 Worship

 Fellowship

 Silence before God

 Dependence upon Him

Those practices have shaped believers for thousands of years, and they remain just as necessary in the age of artificial intelligence as they were in the days of Solomon.

The greatest threat to my faith may not be that artificial intelligence becomes too powerful; it may be that I become so accustomed to immediate answers that I stop seeking the One who sometimes asks me to wait.

Before I open another chat window, I pray I will remember to open my Bible. Before I search for another solution, I pray I will bow my head. Before I trust an answer simply because it sounds convincing, I pray I will ask God for the wisdom to recognize what is true.

AI may help me navigate the questions of this life, but only Christ can lead me home.