Category: Truth
Follow the facts, not the script
In 2018, I was a guest of Sen. Marsha Blackburn (R-Tenn.) at the State of the Union. The place was electric — political theater at its finest. Members of Congress, guests, and press were packed into a room that felt more like a pressure cooker than a chamber. And whoever designed those gallery seats clearly had smaller people in mind.
We had to be there early, which meant a lot of sitting. I struck up a conversation with the man seated just behind me to my left. It turned out to be Bill Nye. He was cordial. My kids had watched him on TV. We talked briefly, just two people passing time.
A serious person is obligated to be even-handed, even when he doesn’t like someone or disagrees with him.
After the speech by Donald Trump, as the room began to empty, I stuck my hand out to Bill, and his only response was, “He didn’t talk about space.”
It wasn’t a big comment. But it was revealing. We had just witnessed something few people ever experience in person. And that was his takeaway.
A lot has happened with America’s space program since then.
I looked and have yet to see where Bill Nye said, “I don’t agree with the man, but something good happened here.”
I did see he was at a No Kings rally last month.
Which raises a simple question: Are we willing to acknowledge what is true, even when we don’t like who it’s attached to?
We hear a lot about following the science. Fine. Then follow it.
Because if you start with the premise that a person is irredeemable, then everything he does must be dismissed. At that point, you’re not evaluating evidence. You’re protecting a conclusion you’ve already chosen.
We’ve seen this before. A man once stood face to face with truth and asked, “What is truth?” Not because the answer wasn’t there, but because he had already decided what he was willing to accept and what it might cost him.
Truth is not hard to find, but it’s hard to accept when it costs us something.
Sometimes you see people model a better way.
I encountered one of those moments when my wife, Gracie, sang at the inauguration of the governor of Tennessee.
At the time, Harold Ford Jr. was a young congressman who was present at the event. After Gracie performed, there were a lot of people on that platform. Important people. People far more connected than we were.
But Harold made a point to come straight to us.
Not a quick handshake and move on. He engaged. Asked questions. Took genuine interest.
A few days later, we found ourselves on the same flight to Washington. Gracie was headed to Walter Reed to sing for wounded warriors. Once again, Harold made a beeline for us.
Same posture. Same curiosity. Same kindness.
We’ve not crossed paths since, but I still watch him when he’s on “The Five.” Not because I agree with everything he says. I don’t. I watch because he is measured. He gives credit where it’s due. He asks questions. He looks for common ground. He treats people as individuals, not categories.
That stayed with me.
I saw something recently that would have been unthinkable not long ago.
Mark Levin had Sen. John Fetterman (D-Penn.) on his show. If talk radio were music, I always considered Rush Limbaugh a virtuoso and Mark Levin heavy metal.
Levin and Fetterman engaged. Asked real questions. Gave thoughtful answers. No rush to score points.
Just two men doing something we used to call normal. And that’s when it hit me. Why does that feel unusual?
RELATED: You don’t have to engage with crazy
Mark Von Holden/WireImage
For 40 years, I’ve lived in a world where I don’t get to choose who walks into the room to care for my wife. Nurses. Surgeons. Specialists. People from every background and belief system.
I’ve seen medical professionals wearing pronouns on their badges. While I inwardly sighed and questioned the scientific judgment of someone who touts that, Gracie still needed care.
And in that moment, my irritation didn’t get a vote. So I did what caregivers learn to do.
I stuck out my hand and engaged. I listened, observed, and learned to separate what I felt about a person from what I could clearly see in front of me.
A serious person is obligated to be even-handed, even when he doesn’t like someone or disagrees with him.
The next time you hear something good about someone you can’t stand, ask yourself a simple question: Could this be objectively true, even though I don’t like this person?
You don’t have to change your vote or your convictions, but you do have to decide whether you’re going to follow the facts or protect a script.
In the real world, where people actually depend on you, clinging to a preferred script isn’t just lazy, it can be very costly.
If you’re willing to set that script aside, even for a moment, you might find something better than being right.
You might find clarity. And in a world this loud, that’s no small thing.
‘Chatbot Jesus’ is a digital fake — and churches are falling for it
Artificial intelligence now offers “Chatbot Jesus,” personalized prayers, AI-generated sermons, and even virtual pastors charging monthly fees. Some see these tools as a lifeline for shrinking congregations. Others claim they offer new ways to evangelize.
The church must speak plainly: We are not called to relevance. We are called to righteousness. Scripture commands believers to “test all things; hold fast what is good.”
People are not abandoning faith because the church lacks modern technology. They are leaving because they are starving for truth in an age of deception.
Technology itself is neither holy nor wicked. The printing press, radio, livestreaming, and Bible apps have all served ministry. AI that organizes calendars, translates languages, or answers simple questions is just another tool.
Crossing a biblical line
Trouble begins when technology imitates divinity. An app that invites people to “talk with Jesus” steps into territory Scripture reserves for the living God alone. Jesus said, “My sheep hear My voice” (John 10:27). Only the Lord speaks with the authority of Matthew 24:35: “Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will by no means pass away.”
No chatbot can make that claim.
The danger becomes obvious when apps offer simulated “conversations” with Judas or Satan. God forbids consulting spirits, mediums, or conjured voices (Leviticus 19:31; Deuteronomy 18:10-12). Why would the church encourage digital re-creations of what Scripture calls an abomination?
Convenience or relevance cannot override explicit biblical commands.
You can’t outsource the Holy Spirit
Some pastors now admit they use AI to help write sermons. Others market “avatar” versions of themselves. But ministry has never centered on polished prose. It has always centered on God’s power — His breath, His Spirit, His Word.
Paul wrote, “My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power” (1 Corinthians 2:4).
You cannot automate the power of God. You cannot outsource the voice of the Holy Spirit. You cannot download anointing.
A sermon is not literary content to be refined by software. It must be birthed in prayer, wrestled through in Scripture, and delivered in obedience. As Jesus said, “Apart from Me you can do nothing” (John 15:5). That includes preaching.
Tech won’t save us
Axios reported that up to 15,000 churches may close this year and that 29% of Americans now claim no religion. That trend calls for actual spiritual renewal, not AI simulations of Jesus.
People are not abandoning faith because the church lacks modern technology. They are leaving because they are starving for truth in an age of deception. The early church grew because believers “continued steadfastly in the apostles’ doctrine and fellowship … and fear came upon every soul” (Acts 2:42-43). They witnessed repentance, signs, wonders, and transformation — none of which machines can produce.
True revival begins where the early church began: holiness, unity, prayer, obedience, and the power of the Holy Spirit.
A distortion of Christ
False voices proclaiming truth are not new. The only novelty is that they are now automated. The central danger of “AI spirituality” is doctrinal corruption. What sources shape these chatbots? What ideology trains them? If systems learn from shallow teaching or progressive theology divorced from Scripture, they will preach a distorted Christ.
When AI “hallucinates” — and all current systems do — it can hand users outright lies.
Jesus warned, “Beware of false prophets … you will know them by their fruits” (Matthew 7:15-16). Paul warned that if anyone preaches “any other gospel … let him be accursed” (Galatians 1:8). From Genesis onward, the devil has counterfeited God’s voice. AI can and will preach an “other gospel” if it draws from anything other than Scripture.
RELATED: God-tier AI? Why there’s no easy exit from the human condition
gremlin via iStock/Getty Images
Believers must remain discerning. “Do not be deceived” (1 Corinthians 15:33). “Beware lest anyone cheat you through philosophy and empty deceit” (Colossians 2:8). Those who build their faith on machine-generated counsel risk building a house on sand rather than the Rock (Matthew 7:24-27).
A servant, not a shepherd
Tools can organize schedules and streamline communication. They can assist brainstorming. But preaching, prayer, prophecy, discipleship, deliverance, and counsel belong to the life of the Spirit — not the cold logic of machines.
Technology must remain a servant. It must never become a shepherd. Only the good shepherd, Jesus Christ, leads His people.
Jesus said, “I am the door of the sheep,” “I am the good shepherd,” and “I lay down My life for the sheep” (John 10). No AI pastor and no “Chatbot Jesus” can claim any of that.
Revival will not come from faster processors or stronger large language models. It will come when God’s people “humble themselves,” pray, seek His face, and turn from their wicked ways (2 Chronicles 7:14).
The world does not need a digital imitation of Jesus. It needs the real Jesus — the one who, as Hebrews 13:8 tells us, “is the same yesterday, today, and forever.”
