For though we live in the body, we do not wage war in an unspiritual way, since the weapons of our warfare are not worldly, but are powerful through God for the demolition of strongholds. We demolish argumentsand every high-minded thing that is raised up against the knowledge of God, taking every thought captive to obey Christ.

2 Corinthians 10:3-5

Listening to my nine-year-old son talk to Alexa is a captivating experience. On the one hand, the questions his mind and sheer curiosity concoct are amazing, and funny, and a little scary. My husband and I agree he brings up deeper and more profound wonderings about the world than either of us did at that age. The fact that he is able to figure out and get answers to most of them is wonderful. On the other hand, I feel robbed by artificial intelligence, that it takes more than it gives, and that I thought I would have more time to prepare my kids for navigating this brave new world, but alas, here we are.

So much could be said and has already been said about AI, but I want to add my little argument to the mix, if only to offer a motherly warning. As a mother’s warnings tend to, maybe this one will live in the back of my kids’ brains like a grain of salt that gives them just enough pause to be all the difference in the choices they make. And as you would have it, that pause is exactly my argument.

I’ve been reading a book called A World Appears by Michael Pollan about consciousness, and while much of the first part delves into the theories about AI becoming conscious, the more interesting part for me has been its exposing the masterpiece and undefinability of the human mind. When we think, it is like a stream flowing seamlessly from one thought to the next (hence the term “stream of consciouness”), with countless other unformed thoughts in between. Each of those thoughts — those images or words — is completely unique; even when we think the same thought over and over, each instance is tinted differently depending on where we are, what we are currently experiencing, and what past experiences have informed it. Every non-thought in between has its own unique color and flavor; landing on any one of them is impossible, and if it were, the moment we land on it, it is altogether a different thing because of our awareness of it. 

This has me meditating on the phrase, “take every thought captive.” Nothing seems more impossible! In the context of 2 Corinthians 10, the command is the response to “arguments…raised up against the knowledge of God.” In the rest of the book, the Greek word noema, meaning the mind, is used in the context of a tension between the believer’s way of thinking and the world’s way of thinking, the “mind” of the world being ideas, systems, and strongholds in our society. 

Lately, it seems to me, the world’s way of thinking is thoughtless. I recently heard that Gen Z is the first generation to be less cognitively capable than the generations before it — and they blame this on technology. It makes sense when you think about the complexity, the vastness, and the mystery that is the human mind God created. We do it a disservice to feed it instant, microwaved answers to every question that bubbles up from its depths. We can’t expect our minds to grow when they arrive at every conclusion without a struggle, even though having immediate access to all knowledge may seem like the ultimate advancement. (The higher the Tower of Babel got, the farther people fell from God. Not to equate the sin of building the Tower and the sin of artificial intelligence, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence my mind goes to this story most often when thinking about technology.)

When God gives the directive “take every thought captive,” He already knows the swirling cacophonies of our minds and how embedded the mind of the world is with them. He takes it a step further and introduces the spirit to the equation: “we do not wage war in an unspiritual way.” I think that might be the difference between the redeemed mind and the mind of the world. Christ’s Spirit in us, unlike anything else, has the power to rightly order the untamable mind. Obedience to Christ is to capture our every thought.

When I substitute at the schools, I see firsthand how uncomfortable kids can be with not knowing something. They speak before they think because using their brains is effort, whereas the immediate gratification of making noise and getting attention for it feels better. Before I can finish teaching a concept, they ask me for the answer. I want to ask them, and I hope to pose to my own children: Have you ever considered that the more distance we can put beween our questions and their answers may be the better? 

What does this look like in a world where the “mind” is to have everything you want, right when you want it?

— Being quiet

— Trusting Him in the wondering and struggle

— Getting comfortable in the waiting

— Asking how our quest for knowledge serves His kingdom

— Believe Him more than we believe what we find