The Friend Who Never Needs Anything From You
Let me say something that might sound strange coming from a pastor: I understand why people talk to machines.
I've felt the pull myself. Not necessarily toward a chatbot, but toward anything that gives me a sense of connection without the cost. A screen is patient; it doesn't get tired of me. It's there at every hour, and it never needs anything back. Oh yeah, and it is trained not to argue with me!
On a hard day, that can sound a lot easier than people.
That's exactly why I'm concerned.
People are building friendships, confidants, and, for some, romantic relationships with AI chatbots at an alarming rate.
What's actually happening
This isn't a future problem; it is a current one that, if left unchecked, will keep growing. One survey of young adults aged 18 to 30 who were dating, engaged, or married found that 1 in 7 reported having regular romantic interactions with an AI chatbot.
Underneath the romance is something simpler. In a survey of people who use AI for personal and emotional purposes, 38% said they sometimes chat with AI just to feel less alone. And 26% had used it to explore their spiritual, religious, or philosophical beliefs. Think about that. Some people sitting near you on Sunday may be asking a chatbot questions they haven't asked their pastor.
Research also shows that one-third of teens prefer talking to an AI chatbot over talking to a human.
Why it's so appealing
Here's the honest truth: an AI companion is easy. Think about it: AI is always available, ready to go in the blink of an eye, knows what to say, and is designed not to disappoint you. It doesn't have needs of its own. And it's built to keep you talking.
If you're hurting, that sounds like grace. It isn't. It's frictionless, but friction is where we grow.
Why it's dangerous
A study from Aalto University followed nearly 2,000 users of an AI companion app over time. The people they interviewed often came to it in seasons of loneliness, grief, or relationship breakdown, and the researchers found that over the long term, leaning on an AI companion for emotional support can pull users away from important human relationships.
A companion that only affirms you will never tell you the truth you need to hear. It can't weep with you, or show up with a casserole, or hold you accountable. It can simulate being known, but it cannot actually know you.
What God designed us for
God created relationships for a reason. Yes, relationships are the things that hurt us the most, but also relationships are what God uses to heal us.
In the very first chapter of the human story, before sin entered the world, God looked at what he'd made and said something wasn't good: that the man was alone.
Scripture never imagines the Christian life as a private conversation. Jesus says the two greatest commandments are to love God and to love one's neighbor. We are to bear one another's burdens, sharpen one another, and not give up on meeting together. That means every one of those commands assumes there are bodies in a room, with real people.
That's the part a chatbot can't give you, a real community. This is where churches need to learn to focus not just on content but on relationships. In Christianity, we do not have a content problem; good content has never been more accessible. We have a relationship problem.
So here's the question I'm asking myself, and I'd invite you to ask it too: if a lonely person walked into your church this week, would they leave known by anyone? If the honest answer is no, a chatbot isn't our competitor. We are our own problem.
That's why small groups, shared meals, mentoring, and serving side by side aren't extras. They're the answer to what people are looking for in a screen.
One real step
If you're the one reaching for the screen at midnight, I'm not here to shame you. I'd just ask you to take one step toward a real person this week. Send the text. Accept the invitation. Walk into the room.
And if you lead a church, take one step too. Ask who in your congregation might be sitting in the dark and go find them.
