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Grace & Gigabytes Blog

Perspectives on leadership, learning, and technology for a time of rapid change

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Why bother with writing?


It's not a particularly lucrative activity, nor does it magnify my "influence." If I wanted steady income or cultural clout I would make reaction videos on TikTok. I don't write because my work makes the world a better place or because society so desperately needs my voice. If I wanted either I would look towards organizations or movements with wider followings than I have (though I am grateful for each and every one of the 13 followers I amassed while still on Twitter).


Truthfully, I write for selfish reasons. I write because doing so gives me a clear sense of satisfaction. Completing a thoughtful paragraph or a clever phrase provides a sense of "job well done" that is difficult to attain elsewhere. Typical of an Enneagram "3," I have a bias for achievement. Writing, blogging, occasionally publishing, are activities that feed my bias and nourish my ego. Putting pen to paper or words to the screen helps me to feel an objective sense of impact and rectitude, scarce sentiments in a culture of speed, and subjectivity. Even the writing projects that ostensibly achieve nothing --- few views, zero re-tweets, certainly no monetization --- have a way of convincing my egotistical self that my work is satisfactory.


Over the last two years, I've added more technology into the creative process. I've increasingly started to work and to write alongside AI. I started slowly at first, apps like Grammarly and ChatGPT serving as high-tech spell-checkers. And then I learned what else LLMs could provide: post titles and content outlines, suggestions for the next paragraph and prompts for the next post, tables of contents, images, translations, and recommendations for further reading. I learned that AI could subtly adjust the tone of voice of an entire essay, reformat a course for a different set of learners, and polish scraps of notation in a message fit for a chief executive.


I've certainly become more efficient after hiring AI as my editor and co-creator. Projects that once took me days are now requiring hours. Tasks that were once tedious are now easy to complete. While I've stopped short of generating entire works from LLMs, I wonder how coherent my words would be if I were to start a project without the support and love of my preferred large language models. I should note that as I type these words, Wix, my site hosting platform, is nudging me to use its own AI to "generate a full-length blog post with a title and images." Do I dare click the magic button and end today's writing session?


Even with this artificially-generated efficiency, I've observed a change in how I feel—in writing, content creation, project development, even in emailing people with important job titles. Something seems off. And I think I know what's missing.


Thanks to AI, thee smug, self-centered satisfaction I used to feel in my writing isn't as strong as it used to be. The sense of accomplishment from a witty phrase or a creative expression isn't as evident since I started using OpenAI.


Our cultural dialogue around AI emphasizes efficiency gains and existential threats, environmental impact and essential regulation. It's a dialogue that is ever-sensitive to career displacement. But lost in this conversation is the topic of AI and achievement. AI might very well take my job. Must it also take my sense of job satisfaction?


We're all on a learning curve with artificial intelligence, but that curve is more complex than we imagine. It's not that we must learn to master ChatGPT or to work alongside these magical technologies. It's that we must also learn to do so in a way that preserves what makes the creative process worthwhile. The real learning curve for AI is to discover how to use these resources in a way that preserves that spark of accomplishment, that glimmer of a job well done, that visceral feeling that comes when I have envisioned, written, or brought to life something both original and useful.


I'm not particularly worried that AI is going to take jobs - mine or yours. But I'm becoming increasingly concerned that AI is going to remove some of the agency and autonomy that fuels so many of us in our creative pursuits.


Will AI make us more productive? Most certainly. Will it diminish the delight we take in our efforts? Perhaps. Will it make the creative process a slog? It remains to be seen. What's at stake is more important than a temporary occupation. What's at stake is our intangible yet foundational sense of purpose and meaning. As AI development accelerates, the very human challenge in front of us is to retain the joy of creativity as AI makes us increasingly productive.




Did you ever take a career aptitude test?


Although I can't recall ever taking one myself, aptitude tests are frequently shown in popular media. In cartoons, these tests effectively match characters with their perfect professions. In movies, they often directed the main character towards their ideal career. A particular example that comes to mind is the (now controversial) film The Blind Side. Following an aptitude test, the character of Michael Oher excels in areas related to "protective instincts," which sets him on the path to becoming an NFL left tackle.


Regardless of the accuracy of these evaluations, they rely on the belief that a career assessment can collect personal information and produce the perfect job match. This basic assumption (despite its imperfections) will soon extend beyond the Guidance Office and into other technologies like GenAI and chatbots. We are on the brink of witnessing a surge in algorithmic career counseling, on platforms including LinkedIn, Indeed, and ChatGPT. AI will offer direct career advice with minimal user input, becoming the go-to career coach of the digital age.




Algorithmic career counseling will take several forms. Want to know what jobs to apply to? No need to attend a job fair or to actively build your professional network. Enter your education experience, skills, and interests into ChatGPT. Want to know where you would rank among the top 1% of applicants? No need to research a company. Just upgrade to LinkedIn Premium and upload your resume. Want to know if you are earning less than you are worth? Don't waste your time suspiciously grumbling around the water cooler. Describe your job responsibilities on a chatbot and ask it to analyze market compensation trends. People will turn to AI to try to find work that is more engaging, lucrative, and even impactful.


One of the key advantages of AI-powered job boards is their ability to continuously scan the vast landscape of available positions, presenting users with a curated selection of opportunities that align with their career aspirations. Through complex algorithms, AI can match candidates with roles that not only match their qualifications but also offer the potential for growth and advancement, making the job search process more efficient and targeted.


The integration of AI technology in career guidance will profoundly influence our perception of our professions. The integration of AI in these job boards goes beyond simple job listings; it delves into the realm of resume analysis and generation, providing users with personalized insights and recommendations tailored to their skills and experiences.


I am particularly worried about the implications of AI on individuals' careers and sense of meaning. By presenting users with an idealized version of their professional lives, AI has the power to amplify a worker's feelings of dissatisfaction with their present situation. In providing users with a vast set of ever-present alternatives, AI will taunt us with the promise that "true purpose" can be found on the other side of a job search. This is likely to increase dissatisfaction and unease at work, hindering career advancement and leading to increased turnover rates. Ultimately, we might all experience a lasting sense of uneasiness and dissatisfaction with our chosen careers.


My hope, however naive it may be, is that this unease and anxiety will prompt a return to more intentional and traditional methods of career guidance and vocational exploration, which can be effectively facilitated by clergy, lay ministers, and church leaders.






Dissatisfaction and the return of discernment


This dissatisfaction will lead to accelerating rates of turnover.


Employees will switch between employers, positions, and fields more frequently and rapidly. As one disappointing opportunity follows another, workers will swiftly seek out new changes. The length of time an employee stays with a company will decrease. Loyalty from employers towards employees (if there is any remaining) will further diminish. Even traditionally stable, full-time positions will begin to resemble freelance work. In this culture of continual job change, it becomes increasingly probable that we’ll find ourselves spending more time in roles that are distant from our core values and natural talents.


Speed and turnover are the antithesis of vocational formation. Guided by AI career advice, the active pursuit of vocational fulfillment will only breed vocational emptiness. That's because the factors that algorithms use to match users to jobs (an employee's skillset, and employer's compensation package) don't correlate with an inner sense of satisfcation, fulfillment, or meaning. They stand in contrast to a faith-driven process of vocational discernment, where we work with a trusted mentor or leader to discover our core values, recognize our innate aptitudes, and to identify where these individual gifts can be of service to the neighbor. In such a faith-driven process, we recognize the possibility that God may in fact have a calling in store for all of us.


Vocational formation is a lengthy process of working out our calling. A calling is not where our skills align with the needs of a business who is willing to compensate us for our time and efforts. Such a view is an impediment towards finding a meaningful vocation. To quote Frederick Buechner, a calling is "where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet." No matter how quickly AI advances, it's improbable that it will ever be able to contemplate such concepts of "deep gladness" and "deep hunger." While AI may excel at processing vast amounts of data and performing complex tasks, the ability to contemplate and engage with the nuanced complexities of human emotions and desires remains a distinctly human trait.


Today's faith leader (or even a faithful person in a secular mentorship role) should take on opportunities to accompany individuals throughout the discernment process. This might involve shared inquiry into core values, mapping those core values to gifts and abilities, and identifying specific experiences where those gifts and abilities meet the needs of the neighbor. It will most certainly be more expansive than a "jobs" conversation. Vocation is a much broader concept than any nine-to-five, extending to familial, social, and cultural structures. A Christian vocational advisor is not merely focused on one's work life but is someone who can take a comprehensive and holistic approach to our life journey. By intertwining faith, values, talents, and community needs, these advisors help individuals uncover a sense of purpose that extends beyond personal fulfillment to making a positive impact on the world around them.


For all of the talk in the church about "decline" and "secularism," there is something to be gained when we take up the work of faithful vocational counseling. There is growth to be realized in identifying the connection points between a person's innate gifts and the world's great needs, with clarifying that God calls all of us to serve. The role of a faith leader or a faithful mentor is to illuminate the path towards a vocation that is not just about what we do for a living but about who we are called to be in all aspects of our experience. It is a journey of self-discovery, alignment with core values, and a commitment to serving others in a way that reflects the essence of who God created us to be. This process of contemplation and action not only benefits the individual but also contributes to the collective wellbeing of the community, creating a positive ripple effect that extends far beyond the walls of the church. This is a process that no chatbot can ever displace.

A new academic year has started. Students are scrolling syllabi and buying e-Books, while faculty and instructors dust-off PowerPoints and lecture notes. At the same time, academic institutions are grappling with a new technology: generative artificial intelligence. Suddenly, students can generate thorough summaries of assigned reading in a fraction of the time it takes to read the complete work. Moreover, students can generate complete (albeit substandard) essays and term papers from a chatbot. So much for the academic rigor of a curriculum emphasizing independent reading - and written work!


Much has been written about how colleges and graduate schools are adapting their curricula in response to this new technology. Group presentations, project work, and in-person written exams are replacing the take-home essay. Institutions of theological education need to make these same adjustments. Seminaries, however, are unique among graduate schools in that their response to AI needs to transcend the logistics of assigned work.

It is essential for seminary educators to collaborate with their students in exploring the ethical and developmental aspects of artificial intelligence. Unfortunately, cultural observers have mostly disregarded these factors, concentrating more on the contentious aspects of AI, such as its potential for abuse or the risk of job displacement.


AI is a major technology, and major technologies have moral and formative dimensions that we must work to understand. As Marshall McLuhan said, "We become what we behold. We shape our tools, and thereafter our tools shape us." Just how much will AI shape us? Well, if we are to believe Professor Andrew Ng of Stanford, one of the world's most influential experts on AI, AI will be the "new electricity." As with electricity, AI will change not just what we are capable of doing - but how we see the world around us.


Much of the broader higher education dialogue on AI has focused on the practicalities of its use in the classroom: will students plagiarize ChatGPT? Will chatbots displace the role of teaching assistants? These questions are important - but they are not the only considerations that we must take up. Those called to theological education are called to explore how AI shapes and forms today's culture - and by extension, how it forms today's church.


The questions posed by artificial intelligence vary by academic discipline. In Biblical studies, the questions involve hermeneutics. In my own testing, I have observed how chatbots can prooftext and substantiate seemingly any theological perspective. I can ask ChatGPT to identify Bible passages to support a contentious political belief. I can ask AI to use the Bible to substantiate my denomination's statement of faith. With AI, I can press the Bible into serving my worldview. What does it mean for Biblical interpretation when the scripture becomes a resource to be mined in support of a specific worldview? And how might church leaders respond by teaching a better way to read the scriptures?


In homiletics, the questions involve sermon development and sermon reception. Chatbots create quick, succinct summaries. How will that change the ability to listen to a sermon in its entirety? AI can summarize any long-form content - from a podcast to Karl Barth's Church Dogmatics. This technology is already capable of creating succinct summaries of text and video content (ie, a sermon recording). What happens to sermons when our society develops a preference for pithy summaries instead of original content? How does a preacher remain faithful to the text and to God in a context with a much shorter span of attention?


In systematic theology, the questions involve our core doctrines. I wonder specifically about AI's propensity to airbrush any imperfection - in our grammar, in our music, in our decision-making processes. How do we re-imagine the doctrine of creation when creatio ex nihilo (creation out of nothing) becomes the domain of generative chatbots? How do we re-imagine the doctrine of salvation in a world where our work can be polished and perfected with the assistance of AI?


In pastoral care, the questions involve trust and authority. A crisis of authenticity emerges as AI-generated content becomes ubiquitous. What becomes of trust and relationship in an online environment where AI-generated creations, deep fakes included, masquerade as the creations of human beings? And what happens to the pastor-parishioner bond when our culture poses the big questions first to ChatGPT - rather than the pastor?


That's not to say that artificial intelligence only contests faith formation and Christian community. Seminaries should also examine where AI promotes the flourishing of faith. Theological educators ought to experiment with where AI can be channeled towards spiritually nourishing ends, using AI generated content for conversation, discernment, and spiritual formation.


As I explored with Dr. Michael Chan in a post for Church Anew, GenAI is a powerful tool in giving coherence to our experiences. We can use AI to create a cohesive narrative of our faith experiences, one that edifies our own spirituality while connecting us more deeply across our faith communities. The theological educator might consider what it takes to faithfully articulate one's faith story with the assistance of a tool like ChatGPT. Christian communities can be formed to use AI to promote curiosity. The content it generates provides a sort of source material for deeply human conversations taking place in analog communities.


As students and educators embark on this new academic year, I am optimistic that seminaries and theological educators will take the lead in exploring these ethical and formative questions. By doing so, they can motivate a fresh cohort of church leaders who are not only knowledgeable in theology but also dedicated to advancing the church's mission in a world on the cusp of significant technological advancement.


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@ryanpanzer graduated from Luther Seminary before it was possible to copy from ChatGPT.

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@ryanpanzer

Leadership developer for digital culture. Author of "Grace and Gigabytes" and "The Holy and the Hybrid," now available wherever books are sold.

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