An Abysmal Take On Worship
And What Content Creation And AI Is Doing To Thought
I’m linking to a post below that the algorithm suggested to me—and honestly, I’m glad it did. Not because it’s insightful. But because bad takes are often the best fuel for good writing.
And there’s plenty of kindling out there.
This particular post is a perfect example of what happens when someone needs to create content but can’t define the core subject of their content. It’s ten slides of incongruent noise. A theology of worship that manages to say a lot without ever saying the thing. You know, the main thing. The one that matters.
It’s like watching someone dance around a bonfire they can’t name. No center. No weight. Just content for content’s sake.
My friend Eric Morris—brilliant pastor, fast-growing church in Austin—sent me screenshots of a fascinating AI interaction recently. He asked ChatGPT what G.K. Chesterton would think about pastors using AI to write sermons.
Chat gave three responses. Two of them? Uncannily Chestertonian. Paradoxical, punchy, and insight-laden.
One in particular has stayed with me. It hit like a flash of borrowed brilliance:
“You’re going to have a generation that can explain everything, yet understand nothing.”
That line’s been rolling around in my head ever since.
Because that’s exactly what we’re seeing. A generation with high-speed access to information but no depth of formation. Lots of data. Not much discernment.
We can explain Reformed theology, but not worship.
We can parse koine Greek tenses, but not recognize glory.
We can describe the feminine body, but not say, “That’s a woman.”
This is what happens when education is replaced by convenience. When long-form study is sacrificed on the altar of productivity. When mentorship is replaced by algorithms.
So here’s the long and short of it:
Keep reading.
Read widely.
Read dead people.
Be mentored.
If you don’t, you’ll end up with all the right details and no sense of the big shape.
You’ll be able to label every piece of the puzzle, while having no idea what the picture is.
And that’s the real danger—not ignorance, but thin understanding dressed up as theological maturity.
So yes, critique the bad slides. Tear down the weak takes. But don’t stop there. Keep digging. Build something deeper. And maybe—just maybe—you’ll be able to name the fire.
So here’s the post, with all its Evangelical blasé, and none of the understanding on worship whatsoever:
