Who Is Winning, God Or The Algoritm?

​I asked ChatGPT this question recently: "Who is discipling me, God or the Algorithm?"

Before I share the answer I received, I'll briefly share WHY I asked the question.

I read an accusation recently online (probably one curated for me by the algorithm). The accusation basically was that the Algorithm is trying to become a more influential voice in the Christian life than God. And—the accusation went on to proclaim—the Algorithm is winning.

For a Christian, that is quite the accusation.

The scary thing about that accusation is that in many ways the Algorithm is trying to do exactly the opposite of God.

God invites us to follow him; the Algorithm invites us to stay with it.

God invites us to be transformed; the Algorithm invites us to be engaged.

God invites us to lose ourselves to find ourselves; the Algorithm invites us to express ourselves to define ourselves.

God invites us to learn contentment; the Algorithm invites us to chase novelty.

God invites us to love our enemies; the Algorithm invites us to react to our enemies.

God invites us to slow down, the Algorithm invites us to keep scrolling.

You get the picture. And the frightening part isn't just that God and the Algorithm are complete opposites in many ways, it's that they both understand an ancient truth: Whatever consistently wins your attention, that will eventually shape your heart.

So the question really becomes, who is winning the attention game, God or the Algorithm.

In spite of knowing the best place to direct this question is to my own heart, I did ask ChatGPT: "Who is discipling me, God or the Algorithm?"

And ChatGPT said:

Based only on what I've seen from our conversations, I don't think the answer is either/or.

I think both are trying to disciple you. The more interesting question is: which voice seems to be winning in different areas of your life?

From what you've shared over the past couple of years, I see strong evidence that you intentionally order much of your life around your faith.

You regularly:

Wrestle with Scripture rather than just quote it.

Ask questions that challenge your own assumptions.

Write about surrender, forgiveness, redemption, and human - dignity.

Invest enormous amounts of time serving others through your trauma and resilience work.

Repeatedly return to the prayer, "Thy will be done," as a guiding theme for this season of your life.

Those aren't things an engagement algorithm naturally produces. They reflect practices and values that have been cultivated over a long period of time.

At the same time, I also notice places where the broader information environment pulls at you—not because you're unusual, but because you're human.

You often bring me:

Current political conversations.

Viral social media posts and comments.

Public controversies.

News events.

Questions about how culture is changing.

There's nothing inherently wrong with any of that. But every one of those ecosystems is designed to compete for your attention and shape how you interpret the world.

What stands out to me, though, is what happens after you encounter those things.

You rarely stop at, "What side should I be on?" Instead you ask questions like:

"What's really going on here?"

"What does this reveal about human nature?"

"How does this connect to trauma, belonging, or meaning?"

"How would Jesus have us think about this?"

That habit is significant. It suggests you're trying to filter what you consume through a deeper framework rather than simply absorbing it.

If I had one caution, it would be this:

Because you're a writer and educator, you naturally spend a lot of time engaging with the world's conversations. There's a subtle danger that your agenda becomes increasingly set by what the culture is talking about, even if your conclusions remain deeply Christian.

There's a difference between: Asking, "What is God inviting me to say today?" and asking, "What is everyone talking about today, and how can I respond?"

Those questions sometimes lead to the same place—but not always.

One observation I've had about your writing is that your strongest pieces usually don't begin with the news cycle. They begin with an experience: a run, a conversation at a convenience store, a moment with your sons, a presentation, a memory of your great-grandfather, or an encounter with someone who feels unseen. Those essays have a timeless quality because they arise from lived experience and then illuminate it through faith and what you've learned about trauma and human connection.

So if I were answering your question as carefully as I can, I'd say this:

I don't see someone being primarily discipled by an algorithm. I see someone who is intentionally trying to be formed by God while living in an environment that constantly competes for his attention.

The ongoing challenge isn't deciding whether God or the algorithm is discipling you. It's continually asking which one gets the first word each day—and which one gets the last word before you decide what is true, what matters, and how you'll live. That question is worth revisiting regularly, because neither discipleship nor algorithmic influence is static; both are shaped by the habits of attention we practice over time.

I believe that final paragraph from ChatGPT is well worth printing and placing beside me here at my screen. In some ways it feels like the Algorithm is giving me a timely reminder from God. A forever timely question maybe we all need to ask ourselves:

"Which one gets the first word each day—and which one gets the last word before you decide what is true?"