AI has brought on a spiritual crisis
Image by Steve A Johnson via Unsplash
Nathan Perrin
Like all creative writers, I’ve been obsessively following the news about generative AI for a few years now. While I am growing more nuanced in my approach as I understand more of the issues surrounding the capabilities of AI, I still hold the firm belief that AI’s existence presents a crisis of the soul. My doctorate work centers on people finding healing through the power of creative process writing. I chose this topic because God used writing and creativity to help get my life on track.
In 2020, when COVID devastated the country, I lost a relationship due to the stresses of the pandemic. My church was impacted as well. I served in an area where tensions were at an all-time high. In January 2021, when I was absolutely depleted, I decided to try out writing again. I contacted a writing coach, and he helped me work through what my voice was. Soon after that, I became a published writer.
I’ll never forget the first day I heard one of my short stories was selected for publication. I was dumpster-diving for my job at the Boys and Girls Club because one of my employees accidentally threw away an important document. I suddenly felt my phone vibrate, and I looked down. I immediately saw a story acceptance. I kid you not, I leapt out of the dumpster and hugged my boss. I was covered in various mystery garbage fluids, but it was one of the happiest moments of my life. Finally, my childhood dream had come true.
I think AI robs us of moments like that. We live in a culture of shortcuts in the name of efficiency, and I feel genuine sorrow for writers who use AI to compose their work. I understand perhaps using it for planning. However, even in the seemingly mundane process of planning, we grow in our craft.
Flamy Grant, the progressive Christian artist and drag queen, says in response to AI that: “To me, that [spiritual practice] is where I have found health and happiness and wholeness … It’s in taking this flesh bag that I walk around in, and [asking], what do I do with it? … Am I using these hands and this voice and these vocal cords to make something, to create spaces that feel safe for people to be authentic, to cry, or to laugh, or to just experience emotions that we sometimes would rather shove down and avoid?”
There is struggle in creation, but it’s not the end product that I’m necessarily aiming for — it’s the experience of dancing with God creatively.
Oftentimes, especially among younger creatives, I am met with resistance to the idea that art and creativity take risk and time. However, I wonder if this mindset is less due to the struggle itself than it is the overly saturated consumerist culture we find ourselves in. Social media influencers don’t write skits or vlog, they “make content.” Hobbies that used to be enjoyable hobbies are now monetized “side gigs.” Online courses often promise fame and instant money if they follow a simple formula with “content curation.”
I’ve also met several well-intentioned writers who self-publish who ask me what my marketing strategy is, and what Booktok tropes I use for my work. I literally think of none of these things when I write. I’m old school in that way. I write primarily what interests me, but I also just genuinely enjoy it. There is struggle in creation, but it’s not the end product that I’m necessarily aiming for — it’s the experience of dancing with God creatively. In many creative spaces, there seems to be a misunderstanding that struggling is a bad thing instead of essential to growth. AI promises an easy solution that addresses this: just feed your piece into the app, or even half of an idea, and there will be some kind of marketable product at the end of it.
Pope Leo XIV writes in his now-famous encyclical on the dangers of AI that “[T]echnology that merely classifies and optimizes what already exists can, however unintentionally, become an obstacle to change and growth. For an algorithm, an error is a flaw to be corrected; for a person, however, an error can be a catalyst for profound change.”
When we stop viewing creativity as something separate from Christian spirituality and instead view it as another expression of prayer, we come to find depth and richness that is hard to discover otherwise. After all, I firmly believe there is no greater argument for the image of God than our own ability to create.
Nathan Perrin (he/him/his) is a writer and Anabaptist pastor in Chicagoland. He holds an MA in Quaker Studies and is a doctoral student studying Christian Community Development at Northern Seminary. His doctorate work centers on creating a writing program for nonprofits and churches to use to help under-resourced communities process trauma. His work has been published in the Dillydoun Review, Bangalore Review, Collateral Journal, Esoterica Magazine, etc. His forthcoming novella Memories of Green Rivers will be released in 2026 by Running Wild Press. He is also a screenwriter. For more information, visit www.nathanperrinwriter.com
The views expressed are those of the author and not necessarily those of American Baptist Home Mission Societies.
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