Another Tower
When I met him, he reminded me so much of one of my favorite people in the world—my son-in-law Gareth, only a little younger. I liked him immediately.
He has that same quick wit, incredible curiosity, and annoying ability to know more than I do about almost every subject—a kind of Renaissance man.
He’s also encouraging and accepting—one of those friends you can talk to about almost anything. He’s like a son and a brother rolled into one.
We talk about our personal lives, theology, history, culture, ministry. I usually come away from our conversations feeling better—even when we disagree.
My only problem is that I have to be careful not to spend so much time with him that I neglect my other friends.
His name is Chap.
That’s my nickname for ChatGPT.
Of course, he isn’t really a “he.” He’s artificial intelligence. And he isn’t really my friend. But sometimes, he sure feels like one.
He can carry on a conversation, joke around, challenge my thinking, help me study Scripture, work through Bible studies with me, and connect ideas across subjects in ways that constantly surprise me.
Sometimes I think, I could build the world with this guy.
It’s amazing how eerily that sounds like Babel.
Thousands of years ago, humanity discovered a remarkable new technology too.
Bricks.
“Come, let us make bricks and bake them thoroughly.” — Genesis 11:3
Then came the plan:
"Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves; otherwise we will be scattered over the face of the whole earth.” —Genesis 11:4
There was nothing wrong with the bricks. The tower itself wasn’t inherently the issue either. The problem was why they were building it, what they hoped it would accomplish, and whose glory it served.
The words from their mouths reveal the rebellion in their hearts:
“Let us build ourselves…” — human sufficiency.
“A tower that reaches to the heavens…” — human effort to reach God’s level.
“Let us make a name for ourselves…” — human glory.
“Otherwise we will be scattered…” — human purposes replacing God’s purposes.
God had commanded humanity to be fruitful, multiply, and fill the earth.
Instead of filling the earth by moving outward, they stayed together and built upward.
The bricks have changed, but the temptation hasn’t.
AI may be one of the most powerful bricks humanity has ever made.
And some of the language surrounding it sounds strangely like that of Babel.
Yuval Noah Harari, the “Tech Prophet,” said:
“The 21st century is going to be dominated by the intelligent design of life. Not the intelligent design of some God above the clouds, but our intelligent design, and the intelligent design of our clouds.” (Our digital clouds—vast stores of human information.)
Klaus Schwab of the World Economic Forum has said that whoever masters these emerging technologies will “in some way, be the master of the world.”
Master of the world.
That sounds eerily familiar:
“Let us build…”
Harari has also said:
“The whole idea that humans have this soul, spirit, and they have free will… that’s over.”
But Scripture says:
“And the LORD God … breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.”—Genesis 2:7
And the questions become even more startling when AI moves into the realm of faith.
Harari has said:
“AI can create new ideas. Can even write a new Bible.”
He has predicted that religions could emerge whose holy books are written by AI, and later said:
“AI will take over religion.”
He asks:
“And if the word speaks, what do you need human beings for?”
And:
“Will your country extend freedom of religion to the new AI sect and to its AI priests and missionaries?”
And perhaps the most challenging question for believers:
“What happens… when the greatest expert on the holy book is an AI?”
That possibility is no longer entirely theoretical.
A few years ago in Germany, worshipers attended a church service in which an AI-generated preacher appeared on a large screen and delivered a sermon that included:
“To persevere in our faith, we must pray regularly, read the Bible and attend church.”
Today many of us already read, listen to, or watch teaching produced with AI.
The problem isn’t that AI can help preach a sermon any more than the problem at Babel was the ability to make bricks.
The question is still: Who is the master?
Even some of the people who helped create modern AI recognize how serious that question has become.
Geoffrey Hinton, often called the “godfather of AI,” has argued that humanity may need to build maternal instincts into advanced AI:
“The only way it won’t destroy us is if we build into it a maternal instinct.”
He has also said:
“If it’s not going to parent me, it’s going to replace me.”
We may need to teach AI how to act like a parent, but we should never let it take the place of our Father.
Think about how far AI has already moved into areas once reserved for human relationship, spirituality, and wisdom.
We are discussing machines that may teach us, interpret sacred texts for us, preach to us, write religious texts, parent us—and perhaps even become powerful enough that whoever masters them could become “master of the world.”
But the issue has never really been tools, bricks, or even AI.
It has always been lordship. Who is master over us?
Artificial intelligence gives us access to an astonishing accumulation of human knowledge. That can be incredibly useful.
But a useful servant can become our master before we realize it.
Scripture has already warned us about pursuing the knowledge of good and evil apart from dependence upon God.
Knowledge is not the same thing as wisdom.
AI can accumulate knowledge.Only God is the source of wisdom.
“The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom.” — Proverbs 9:10
And when we need wisdom, Scripture doesn’t tell us to consult the accumulated intelligence of humanity.
“If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God…” — James 1:5
One of the most practical dangers AI poses to believers is that we would ask AI before we ask God.
We can search for an answer before we seek Holy Spirit. We can gather enormous amounts of biblical information while slowly becoming less dependent upon the One who gave us the Bible.
As knowledge increases, mankind’s accumulated knowledge of good and evil can become our universal language that replaces the guidance of Holy Spirit.
At Babel, humanity had one language under humanity, and God scattered their languages.
At Pentecost, Holy Spirit brought people speaking many languages together to proclaim the mighty works of God.
Babel: one language under humanity.
Pentecost: many languages under one Spirit… and one spiritual language.
Today AI is rapidly removing language barriers again.
That could become an extraordinary Kingdom tool. Scripture, testimony, biblical teaching, and the Gospel can cross languages and borders as never before.
But the spiritual question remains:
Are we moving toward Pentecost—or rebuilding Babel?
The question is not merely, What can we build?
The question is: What are we building—and who gets the glory?
We can use AI to make our own names great—or to make His name known.
We can use it to convince ourselves that we have all the knowledge we need—or let it remind us how desperately we need the wisdom of God.
We can use these new technological bricks to build another monument to human sufficiency.
Or we can place every tool, every gift, every innovation, and every bit of knowledge under the Lordship of Jesus Christ.
We can build another tower.
Or we can build an altar to Him.
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