In the Book of Genesis, Abraham pitched his tent between two cities — Bethel and Ai. Bethel means “the house of God”; Ai means “heap of ruins.” There, between these two points, Abraham built an altar to the Lord and called on His name (Genesis 12:8). Generations later, Joshua led Israel in battle against Ai — and suffered an unexpected defeat because he attacked without seeking divine direction. “And the men of Ai struck down about thirty-six men, for they chased them before the gate… therefore the hearts of the people melted and became like water” (Joshua 7:5).

This ancient geography carries a prophetic resonance for our time. The Church of the 21st century once again finds itself between Bethel and Ai — between the altar of divine presence and the rise of Artificial Intelligence. The parallels are striking and deeply instructive. Bethel represents God’s presence, revelation, and spiritual intelligence. Ai, in today’s context, represents Artificial Intelligence — human-created intelligence, algorithmic thinking, data-driven systems, and synthetic wisdom shaping the modern world.

We are living at a moment when machines are learning, systems are thinking, and data has become a new form of deity. Yet, amidst all this advancement, the Church must remember the posture of Abraham — a man who pitched his tent near Ai, but built his altar at Bethel. He lived close enough to engage the world, but his worship faced God. That balance — proximity without compromise — is the wisdom the Church must recover.

The tragedy of Joshua’s defeat at Ai was not military but spiritual. Coming from the miraculous conquest of Jericho, he assumed that success in one battle guaranteed victory in the next. Without inquiry, without seeking divine strategy, he went up against Ai — and failed. The mistake of presumption cost him men and morale. The lesson endures: never attack Ai without inqui.

In our time, the Church must resist the temptation to rush into the use of Artificial Intelligence simply because it is powerful, efficient, and popular.

The same error that undid Joshua can undo a generation that equates innovation with inspiration. Artificial Intelligence is not inherently evil, but it is not inherently divine either. It must be approached with discernment. The Church must not fight spiritual battles with technological confidence. Every new wave of human advancement must be filtered through the wisdom of Bethel before it is deployed toward Ai. We must ask again, “Lord, shall we go up?” before we build systems that may outpace our souls.

Abraham’s example offers a different pattern because he did not flee from Ai. He stayed near it and acknowledged its reality, its relevance, and its proximity. But he also built an altar — a space of communion, humility, and divine reference. He did not worship efficiency; he worshipped presence. He did not depend on human intelligence; he depended on divine instruction.

In our digital world, we cannot escape the reach of Artificial Intelligence. It is already writing music, producing sermons, editing media, designing strategies, and simulating empathy. Churches are beginning to use AI for administration, outreach, and even pastoral counseling. This is not wrong in itself, but the danger lies in subtle substitution — when algorithms begin to replace anointing, when data replaces discernment, when speed replaces surrender, and when metrics replace ministry.

Ai without Bethel becomes a heap of ruins. That is not poetic exaggeration; it is prophetic truth. The name “Ai” literally means “heap of ruins.” It symbolises what man builds when he leaves God out of the equation. Every civilisation that has exalted its own intelligence above divine wisdom has eventually crumbled — Babel, Egypt, Babylon, Rome. Their towers were tall, their data vast, their systems advanced, but they all ended as ruins because their foundations were not altars.

Artificial Intelligence represents humanity’s most ambitious attempt yet to recreate the image of God without His Spirit. It can predict patterns but not perceive purpose. It can simulate voice but not carry presence. It can analyse emotion but not heal brokenness. It can process information but not birth transformation. It can produce sermons but not carry the burden of the Word. It can optimise systems but it cannot anoint souls.

The Church must, therefore, learn to live between Bethel and Ai — to use technology without being used by it, to be informed but not deformed, to master the tool while remaining mastered by the Spirit. We must recognise that the altar — not the algorithm — is still the place of revelation. The altar is where ideas are purified, motives are refined, and innovation is sanctified.

It is possible to have perfect lighting, advanced sound, seamless livestreams, automated schedules, and yet no glory. It is possible to be efficient in form but empty in fire. The true power of the Church has never been in its data capacity but in its altar consistency. When the altar dies, everything collapses — no matter how sophisticated the system.

This generation must not be seduced by the illusion of digital omniscience. We may know everything yet understand nothing. We may have access to every database yet lose access to divine presence. There is a kind of knowledge that inflates, but revelation that transforms. Artificial Intelligence can provide the former, but only divine presence provides the latter.

Abraham’s posture teaches us that we must build our altars before we build our cities. The altar sanctifies the tent. The tent represents daily life, the visible, the transient. The altar represents consecration — the unseen foundation. In our world, the “tent” is our digital reality; our “altar” is our spiritual posture. The Church must rebuild the altar of inquiry, where before we code, we pray; before we deploy, we discern; before we engage, we inquire. We must bring the presence of Bethel into our approach to Ai.

It is not a call to fear technology but to govern it under God. Artificial Intelligence can serve divine purposes if it is surrendered to divine authority. Imagine a Church that uses AI for missions, translations, evangelism, and education — yet keeps prayer, humility, and the Holy Spirit at the centre. That is the vision of Bethel influencing Ai, not Ai replacing Bethel.

The challenge before us is both moral and spiritual. AI learns by observing patterns of human behaviour; it reflects our biases, amplifies our tendencies, and multiplies our desires. If humanity is fallen, our technology will inevitably mirror that fallenness. That is why Ai needs Bethel — not as a metaphor, but as a moral compass. Without the fear of God, knowledge becomes dangerous. Without wisdom, progress becomes destruction. Without revelation, information becomes confusion.

We must, therefore, raise a generation of believers who are fluent in both tongues — the language of the Spirit and the language of systems. We need Daniels who can interpret dreams in Babylon, Josephs who can manage resources in Egypt, and Abrahams who can build altars near Ai. We need a Church that can write code but still cry before God, a Church that understands machine learning but still practices spiritual discernment.

The days ahead will test our priorities. AI will make life faster, easier, and more convenient. But convenience is not consecration. The narrow path will still require prayer, fasting, humility, and holiness. No algorithm can generate those. The Holy Spirit remains the ultimate intelligence — eternal, moral, and incorruptible.

As we stand between Bethel and Ai, the question is not whether AI will grow, but whether the altar will remain. Will pastors still inquire of the Lord before adopting trends? Will believers still hear the still small voice above the noise of data? Will we still build our lives around the altar, or will we be absorbed by the algorithm?

The future will not belong to those with the largest data centres, but to those with the deepest altars. It will not belong to those who automate the Church, but to those who keep the flame burning. Artificial Intelligence may simulate knowledge, but only divine presence sustains wisdom. Bethel must remain our compass, even as Ai expands our horizon.

So, like Abraham, let us pitch our tents near Ai — but let our altars always face Bethel. Let AI serve, but never substitute. Let it assist, but never lead. Let us master the tool, but remain mastered by the Spirit. Let us innovate boldly but pray humbly. For the Church’s strength has never been its machinery, but its mystery — the presence of the living God.

And in that posture, may we all pray:
Lord, as we live between Bethel and Ai,
Let us build our altar at Bethel.
Let Artificial Intelligence never replace Holy Intelligence.
Teach us to inquire before we innovate.
Grant us wisdom to harness technology.
And grant us fire to keep the altar burning.
Let Bethel define our vision, and let Ai serve Your purpose through us in Jesus mighty name, Amen.

• Sunday Ogidigbo is the Lead Pastor of Holyhill Church, Abuja. He writes on faith, leadership, and the intersection of spirituality and culture.

Twitter/Instagram/Facebook: @SOgidigbo
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