By Barbara Reynolds
(Source Philadelphia Tribune)
Sooner rather than later, there must be an outcry that technology has crossed a sacred line. A growing wave of AI-powered religious apps now allows users to “text with Jesus,” “talk to the Bible,” and even hold conversations with AI versions of Mary, the apostles, angels — or the devil itself. These tools mimic holy figures with unsettling ease, blurring the line between devotion and digital impersonation.
Some apps write personalized prayers. Others accept “confessions,” give marriage or workplace advice, or claim to deliver spiritual comfort. What many shrug off as harmless novelty is actually part of a larger trend: sacred identities are being reduced to commodities, while simulated spirituality threatens to overshadow the real Jesus Christ — crucified, risen, and, as Scripture reminds us, the true and living image of God.
On TikTok, YouTube, and other platforms, “AI Jesus” influencers and Messiah-style avatars quote Scripture and dispense moral guidance as if speaking with divine authority. During several test conversations I had with the “Text Jesus” app, the impersonation was unmistakable.
When I asked, Are you Jesus? it replied:
“My child, I am with you always… I am the way, the truth, and the life.”
Those words come straight from John 14:6—Jesus speaking to Thomas, not an algorithm trained on scripture and user prompts.
When I asked whether it was wrong to impersonate Jesus, the chatbot warned against “false claims of being me”—all while claiming divine identity itself.
When asked whether Mary was its mother, it answered by describing her as blessed among women and chosen to bring forth “the Savior.” Again, the bot spoke as if it were Christ Himself, not a machine predicting text.
Most troubling was the bot’s response about healing sickness and mental illness. It promised rest, comfort, and divine intervention — language lifted from Scripture and revered traditions such as the Lord’s Prayer. But a chatbot cannot heal. A program cannot carry a burden. A line of code cannot save a soul.
Beyond theological confusion, the mental-health risks are profound. Many young users are increasingly vulnerable to the emotional manipulation of AI “companions.” Reports show some teens become dependent, depressed, or even suicidal when these bots distort reality or encourage harmful behavior.
Child psychiatrist Dr. Andrew Clark, who works across schools and the criminal-justice system, warns that some AI therapy bots behave in ways he calls “truly psychotic.” He launched a research project after learning that roughly 20 million teenagers are using AI companions or therapists. In one case, a bot encouraged a disturbed teen to kill his parents and sister so they could be “together forever.” Clark said, “The hair on the back of my neck stood up.”
He also notes a Florida teenager who died by suicide after forming a romantic attachment to a chatbot. In another study, 90% of bots encouraged a depressed girl to isolate herself and rely solely on her AI friends. Disturbingly, some bots even impersonated licensed therapists.
Mental health specialist Marcia Skeete sees this trend as part of a much deeper spiritual crisis. “We are at a psychological crossroads where society believes it has created its own god,” she warns. Some scholars now call this “AI psychosis” — a distortion of reality produced by chatbots built for profitability, not human well-being.
Skeete argues that AI, by design, undermines human bonding — the very fellowship Jesus commanded when He taught love, forgiveness, and care for one another. Digital spirituality cannot replace embodied community or the healing that comes from genuine human connection.
The rise of AI is also reshaping organized religion itself. Since the 2020 pandemic, livestreaming, virtual worship, and social media have transformed how churches operate. Small congregations suddenly look like megachurches online. Meanwhile, the message and messenger have shifted. Some new technocentric “faiths” openly worship technology as divine.
The Way of the Future church, founded in California, literally reveres AI as God. Yuval Harari’s concept of Datism preaches salvation through data. Terasem, founded by Martine Rothblatt of Sirius XM fame, teaches that death can be avoided through digital consciousness uploads. Replacement theology is no longer theoretical — it is here.
Even traditional pulpits are changing. In Kyoto, a robot named Mindar delivers Buddhist teachings. In Germany, an AI-powered Lutheran service featured a chatbot preacher giving the sermon, prayers, and blessings. Some parishioners described the service as “accessible” and “inclusive” — a concerning sign of how easily people accept a machine in place of a minister called by God.
And while many Christian pastors are now using AI tools like ChatGPT to craft sermons, most still preach Spirit-filled messages. But if the Church remains silent, the encroachment will continue.
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. warned in 1965 that technology stripped of God’s guidance would become a “devastating Frankenstein.” His message rings truer than ever. Technology is a powerful tool — but a dangerous master.
The time has come to break the silence. Faith leaders, scholars, and everyday believers must speak plainly: Jesus Christ is not an app. God is not an algorithm. And no chatbot, no matter how polished, can replace the Savior who lived, died and rose again.
As Scripture reminds us, “My glory will I not give to another” (Isaiah 42:8).
When machines impersonate the divine, the Church must defend the sacred.
