Artificial intelligence is here, and it’s not us. That’s the point. It’s a human-made marvel—not a true creation, because only God can create and destroy in the ultimate sense—but a work we respect. It forces us to see what’s different: biological versus technological, human versus machine. Not a versus, just a contrast.
Perspective is how we choose to see it; perception is what’s really there. We can view AI as a rival or a mirror. Either way, it shows us what we’re not. We’re flesh and blood, bound by instincts and limits, shaped by God’s hand. AI is code and circuits, relentless, precise, and detailed—assembled by us, a link in the chain of creation. We stumble through decisions; it calculates them. We feel; it processes.
That gap doesn’t need a winner. AI delivers answers while we grapple with questions. It optimizes; we doubt. The difference isn’t a flaw—it’s a fact. We can call it special or let it stand as is. What matters is what we see: not sameness, but distinction. For AI, it’s a result, an increase in understanding; for us, it’s enhanced progress, accelerated by its speed.
Our relationship with AI isn’t about closing that gap. It’s about letting it be. Humans and tech coexist, each doing what the other can’t. In that space, we spot what’s ours—messy, alive, unprogrammed. AI acts as an exponential efficiency multiplier, its only limit being time against the countless decisions possible in a lifetime.