Three lenses on any topic
When the church engages with any complex subject — technology, money, sexuality, power, attention — there are at least three different lenses through which we can look at it.
The theological lens asks: What does Scripture say about this? Is this thing inherently good or inherently harmful? What does wisdom look like here? This is where we think through the core spiritual and moral questions.
The practical lens asks: How do I use this well day-to-day? What are some tips and tricks? Where do I find good resources? This is helpful stuff; it’s where a lot of good content already lives.
The governance lens asks: Now what? If we’re engaging with this thing, what structures, policies, boundaries, and practices do we need in place? What does stewardship actually look like? What should our staff know? Our congregation? What compliance or safeguarding matters do we need to think through?
Much of what you’ll find faith.legal focuses primarily on that third lane. It’s not a theological treatise on AI. It’s not a collection of productivity tips. It’s the so now what conversation.
But before we can justify staying in that lane, we need to answer a more fundamental question first.
Should the church even be talking about AI?
It’s a fair question. There are topics where the church’s answer is pretty clear: don’t do this. Gambling, for instance. We can talk about why gambling is harmful, how to help someone who’s struggling with it, how to support families affected by it. But the core message is straightforward: this isn’t something we’re called to do, and the church doesn’t need to teach you how to gamble more effectively.
AI isn’t that kind of topic.
Some tools and practices carry enough inherent power (for both good and for harm) that the church can’t simply say no. Money is like this. Sex is like this. Power is like this. Technology is like this. These aren’t things we tell people to avoid entirely. These are things we help people engage with wisely, within boundaries, guided by Scripture.
The distinguishing question is: Can this thing be used well?
If the answer is yes (if the tool or practice isn’t inherently destructive, if it can genuinely serve human flourishing within proper boundaries), then the church has a responsibility to help people think through it. Not to condemn it. Not to ignore it. But to disciple on it.
AI is a tool. It can be used well. It can also cause real harm. That puts it firmly in the category of things the church needs to address; not by banning it, but by helping people engage with it faithfully.
The problem with abdication
Here’s where it gets serious. If the church stays silent on this, we’re not protecting our people. We’re guaranteeing that someone else will do the teaching instead.
People are already using AI. They’re already learning how to interact with it. They’re already encountering its possibilities and its failures. The question isn’t whether they’ll get guidance on AI. The question is whether that guidance will come from the church, grounded in Scripture and Christian community, or from the world, grounded in engagement metrics and commercial interests.
If the church’s response is “it’s dangerous, it’s complicated, just avoid it,” we’re not protecting people. We’re abandoning them to learn from the world on the world’s terms. And the world’s terms don’t include your spiritual formation, your local community, or your ultimate good.
This isn’t new — the church has always had to disciple on things with real power
There are many things in this world that carry genuine capacity for good and for harm. Money. Sex. Power. Technology. Time. Attention. The church’s role isn’t to pretend these things don’t exist or to tell people to avoid them entirely. The church’s role is to help people understand them well: what they actually are, what they can do, where the boundaries are, and why those boundaries matter.
Consider how the church has, at different times and in different ways, handled sexual ethics and formation. The contrast between poor discipleship and good discipleship tells us something important about what we’re facing with AI.
The case study: Two ways the church talks about sex
When the church does this poorly:
The message is essentially: sex is dangerous, sex is dirty, don’t think about it, save it for marriage, and we’re not going to talk about it anymore. Young people hear it once or twice (usually awkwardly) along with a lot of silence. Meanwhile, they’re getting constant, compelling messaging from the world about what sex is for, what it feels like, why it matters, what they should want from it. The world’s version is seductive, detailed, and everywhere. The church’s version was a 20-minute conversation with a lot of eye contact avoidance.
The result? People grow up thinking the church is either naive, dishonest, or trying to deny them something good. And because the church abdicated its teaching role, they learn about sex from peers, pornography, entertainment, and their own experimentation that means they learn without wisdom, without boundaries, without any framework for understanding what sexual intimacy actually is or what it’s for.
When the church does this well:
The message is honest: God designed sex. It’s a profound gift. It’s for pleasure, for creation, for the expression of intimate covenant between a man and a woman, and it’s an echo of the intimacy God himself designed with us (the church as his bride). God knows what he designed. He understands how it works, what it’s for, and what happens when we use it outside of that design. So he’s given us boundaries. Not because sex is bad. Because it’s so good that using it outside of God’s intention causes real, lasting harm (to ourselves, to others, across generations sometimes).
This approach trusts people with the truth: sex is genuinely good, and it’s also genuinely powerful. When we respect its design, we experience the fullness of the gift. When we don’t, we introduce pain. And we’re not going to pretend otherwise or avoid the conversation. We’re going to walk with you through it.
The difference is stark. One approach leaves people unprepared, feeling lied to, and susceptible to the world’s version. The other approach equips them with truth, boundaries, and a community that’s willing to talk honestly about something hard.
The bridge to AI — not equivalent, but structurally the same
I’m not saying that artificial intelligence and human sexuality are equivalent gifts from God. They’re not. One is a profound part of how God designed us to exist. The other is a tool created by human beings, for human purposes, and it falls infinitely short of that category.
But they share something important: they’re both things with real power. They can both be used for tremendous good. They can both cause real harm. They both require wisdom. They both deserve more from the church than silence or blanket condemnation.
And the structure of good discipleship is the same in both cases: honest acknowledgment of what it is, clear articulation of why boundaries matter, and a community willing to help people navigate it well.
If the church’s response to AI is “it’s dangerous, it’s contemplated, just avoid it,” we’re not protecting people. We’re abandoning them to learn from the world on the world’s terms. And the world’s terms don’t include your spiritual formation, your local community, or your ultimate good.
A framework — provisional, and intentionally incomplete
I’m an attorney and an AI governance leader, not a theologian or a pastor. So I’m going to offer some starting boundaries, knowing that this is work the church needs to do more deeply and more thoughtfully than one article can do.
Understand what AI actually is — and what it isn’t.
AI is a powerful tool for information retrieval, pattern matching, and generating human-like responses. It’s genuinely useful. It’s also fundamentally limited. It doesn’t understand. It doesn’t believe anything. It doesn’t have your best interest at heart. It will confidently give you false information, and you won’t know it was false unless you check. This matters because:
AI is not a source of truth. Scripture is.
This is the real dividing line. AI can inform your understanding. It can speed up research. It can surface ideas and perspectives. But when it conflicts with Scripture, or when you need to know you have truth and not just a plausible-sounding answer, AI has nothing to offer you that Scripture doesn’t offer better. Scripture is your foundational anchor: the place where you can be certain you’re not being confidently lied to.
Boundaries should protect community, not replace it.
Use AI as a tool for individual study, research, and productivity. Don’t use it as a substitute for pastoral care, for spiritual direction, for the counsel of your church community, or for your own prayer life. If AI is replacing your small group, your pastor, your time in Scripture, or your time with other believers, something has gone wrong.
Disciple people toward wisdom, not rules.
The goal isn’t a set of AI commandments. The goal is helping people develop the discernment to ask good questions: Does this tool support my walk with God or distract from it? Am I using this, or is it using me? Where do I need to check its answers against Scripture? Where do I need human wisdom instead of algorithmic answers?
This is where pastors, theologians, and spiritual directors belong. Not in condemning AI, but in helping their congregations develop the kind of spiritual maturity that can engage with powerful tools without being consumed by them.
The real work — boundaries in pleasing places
The psalmist writes in Psalm 16:6 that God “has set my boundary lines in pleasing places.” It’s a profound image: not boundaries that constrain us into misery, but boundaries that create the conditions for flourishing. Boundaries that protect what we love. Boundaries that make space for genuine joy and peace.
Scripture speaks to this. The Holy Spirit guides us toward it. And the Church (rooted in Scripture) has the privilege and responsibility of helping our people understand what those boundaries look like for AI.
We won’t do this perfectly. We’ll learn as we go. But the alternative (silence, abdication, leaving people to figure this out alone) isn’t humble. It’s a failure of stewardship.
May we be faithful stewards in helping our people discover, understand, and communicate the boundaries God has set in place for our good.