The Gospel of AI

I’ve been doing something interesting lately.

I’ve been taking old songs I wrote years ago—songs that mattered to me, that hold real memories—and running them through AI. Letting it re-imagine them. New arrangements. New performances. Sometimes even new voices.

And here’s what surprised me most:

They weren’t just impressive.
They were beautiful.
Emotional. Connected. Alive in a way that caught me off guard.

I loved them. (Hear my song below)

Not in a “wow, tech is cool” way—but in the same way I’ve loved human performances.

So I shared it with a few people, and my non-musician friends responded with, “Wow - that’s such a beautiful song”. You could see it on their faces!

Then with musician friends.

At first, they listened with wonder and curiosity, “You wrote this???”
Some with genuine appreciation.

Then I told them it was performed by AI

And for some reason, something shifted.

Not outwardly at first—but in the eyes. The posture, the energy in the room changed.

It wasn’t really about the music anymore. (The thing that impressed them just a few minutes before.)

It was about what the music implied.

I think three thoughts landed all at once:

1. That was really good—maybe better than I could do.

2. I was kind of duped by the AI thing.

3. So… what does that mean for me now?

If a machine can sing like this…
Perform like this…
Move people like this…

What am I supposed to do?

And deeper than that:
Who am I, and what is my place in this new world?

This Isn’t Just a Musician’s Question

Musicians and creatives are just the first to feel it.

But the same fear is surfacing everywhere:

• What if AI takes my job?

• What if I’m no longer exceptional?

• What if what I built my identity on isn’t needed anymore?

And when that fear shows up, we often rush to spiritualize it.

We make conclusions.

• If AI isn’t human and

• It doesn’t have a soul then

• God can’t use it.

Some of that may be true. (the first 2)

But a lot of it is us trying to manage our fear.

Especially as creatives.

Because the real question underneath isn’t theological—it’s personal:

Who am I if I’m not special at this?

The Question Was Always There—AI Just Exposed It

Here’s the uncomfortable truth:

This question didn’t start with AI.

There have always been better singers.
Better songwriters.
More skilled musicians.
People with more opportunity, more training, more talent.

The difference is—we could explain that.

We could say:

• They practiced more.

• They’re gifted.

• They had better chances.

But now we’re facing something we can’t outwork or out-talent.

And that’s why this moment feels existential.

Because when performance is no longer a safe place to root our identity, we’re left with the question we kept avoiding:

Was my worth ever supposed to come from what I do?

AI will change how you do things

AI may change what you do

AI can’t change who you are

This Is Where the Gospel Speaks—Quietly but Clearly

Jesus didn’t receive His identity from what He did.

Before a miracle.
Before a sermon.
Before proving anything.

He heard:

Beloved before useful.
Loved before productive.

That wasn’t just His story.
It’s the human story restored.

Its your story.

Maybe This Is Actually Good News (the gospel)

AI can do many things.

But it cannot:

• Be known

• Belong

• Love

• Receive love

It can perform.
It cannot be.

And maybe this moment—uncomfortable as it is—is an invitation back to something truer.

Not identity-as-output.
Not worth-as-performance.

But identity-as-gift.

Perhaps AI is forcing us to finally answer the question we’ve dodged:

If I am already loved… then who am I, really?

Here I made this… hope you like it - cause I do, and He does…