There was a time when the Church stood at the centre of humanity’s great intellectual questions. From the ancient world to the medieval period and into modernity, the Church did not merely preach about God; it participated in the great conversation about human existence, morality, knowledge, creation and destiny. Today, however, humanity has entered another extraordinary intellectual revolution, and this time the challenge comes not primarily from philosophy, astronomy or industrialisation, but from artificial intelligence.
Machines can now generate language, analyse information, translate languages, recognise patterns, produce images, assist scientific research and perform tasks that previously appeared to require uniquely human intellectual abilities. Stanford’s 2026 AI Index reports that frontier AI capabilities continued to advance rapidly through 2025, with some evaluation benchmarks being surpassed much faster than anticipated. The question before the modern Church, therefore, is no longer whether artificial intelligence will affect Christianity. It already has. The more profound question is: What happens to the Church when the machine becomes capable of speaking intelligently about the very God whom the Church has spent two thousand years proclaiming?
Artificial intelligence is important because it represents more than another invention. The printing press changed the speed at which human beings could distribute knowledge; electricity transformed industry and communication; the internet transformed access to information; but AI is beginning to transform the way information itself is processed, generated and communicated. UNESCO observes that AI is reshaping the way people work, interact and live, while also creating profound questions about what it means to be human. This has enormous implications for Christianity.
A young believer can now ask an AI system to explain a biblical passage, compare theological interpretations, translate Scripture, prepare questions for Bible study, explain the history of Christianity or discuss philosophical arguments for and against the existence of God. A preacher can use AI as a research assistant; a theological student can use it to organise ideas; a missionary can use it to communicate across linguistic boundaries; and a church can employ digital technologies to reach people who may never enter a traditional sanctuary. In this sense, AI can become an instrument through which the Church extends its educational and missionary reach. The technology itself is neither the Gospel nor the enemy of the Gospel; its significance depends largely upon how human beings design, govern and employ it.
Yet the arrival of AI creates a theological paradox that the Church cannot afford to ignore. Christianity teaches that human beings possess a distinctive dignity because they are created in the image of God. Genesis 1:26–27 places human identity within the language of divine creation and likeness. But what happens when something created by human beings begins to perform activities associated with human intelligence? If human beings can create machines that write essays, compose music, generate pictures, analyse arguments and converse in remarkably natural language, then humanity has produced an extraordinary technological mirror of its own intellectual capacities.
Pope Francis, in his 2024 World Day of Peace message on artificial intelligence, connected technological creativity with human intelligence and human dignity, while arguing that the development of AI must remain oriented towards justice, peace and the common good. The theological issue, therefore, is not simply whether machines can become intelligent. It is whether intelligence alone constitutes what Christianity means by the human person. If intelligence is only one dimension of humanity, then the Church must teach the world again that being human involves moral responsibility, freedom, relationship, conscience, love, embodied existence and a capacity to stand before God.
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This brings us to the disturbing but fascinating question contained in the title of this article: Who will preach to man when machines begin to think? Perhaps the answer is not that machines will replace preachers, but that machines will force preachers to rediscover what preaching actually means. A machine may produce a sermon, but can it bear witness to an experience of faith? It may explain repentance, but can it repent? It may describe compassion, but can it suffer with another human being? It may analyse thousands of theological books, but can it kneel in prayer? It may reproduce the language of worship, but does it worship? These distinctions matter. The ability to process and generate language should not automatically be confused with spiritual consciousness or religious experience. AI can become remarkably competent at discussing religion without possessing the existential relationship with God that religious faith claims to involve. The Church must therefore resist two opposite errors: treating AI as an insignificant machine that deserves no serious theological attention, and treating computational sophistication as proof that a machine possesses the same kind of consciousness, spirituality or personhood as a human being.
The benefits of AI to the Church, nevertheless, are enormous. Imagine a missionary working in a multilingual community with access to intelligent translation systems; a theological student in a remote African university able to search vast bodies of literature; a visually impaired Christian receiving Scripture and theological material through conversational technology; a small congregation using digital tools to prepare educational materials; or a pastor using AI to compare historical interpretations of difficult biblical passages before undertaking further scholarly research.
AI can also assist medicine, education, scientific research and social development, and these wider benefits indirectly affect the communities in which churches serve. Stanford’s AI Index has documented rapid growth in AI research, model development and applications across science and medicine, demonstrating that AI is becoming embedded in numerous areas of human activity. The Church therefore needs a theology of technological engagement rather than a theology of technological fear. Christianity has historically interacted with writing, printing, radio, television and the internet; AI is another major technological transformation, although one that raises unusually deep questions about intelligence itself.
But every great technological revolution carries dangers, and the Church must not become so fascinated by the possibilities of AI that it forgets its responsibilities. AI systems can produce inaccurate information, reproduce biases, facilitate deception, invade privacy and be used for harmful purposes.
UNESCO’s global framework on AI ethics specifically identifies risks involving discrimination, privacy, misinformation, accountability and human rights, while insisting that human dignity and human oversight must remain central.
Stanford’s 2025 AI Index likewise reported that documented AI-related incidents rose to 233 in 2024, a 56.4 per cent increase from the previous year. These concerns have direct implications for the Church. What happens when someone uses AI to manufacture a fake prophecy? What happens when an artificial voice is used to imitate a pastor? What happens when fabricated images appear to show a miracle that never occurred? What happens when someone receives dangerous spiritual advice from an AI system and assumes that because the machine speaks confidently, its answer must be true? The Church must teach digital discernment as seriously as it teaches biblical discernment.

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