Beyond Efficiency: Stewarding AI Without Losing the Soul

In Part One, I argued that every technological revolution expands human power while ethical reflection almost always lags behind innovation. Artificial intelligence may be the clearest example yet. The question before us is not whether AI will reshape our culture—it already is. The deeper question is whether we will shape its use before it quietly reshapes us.

For me, that question became personal through a conversation with my wise friend, Chris Koning.

Over two decades ago, he and I played and sang together in a Christian rock band, 5000 Fed. Last month, I reached out to him with a question that had been weighing on me.

What are your thoughts on AI hybrids as worship music? Lyrics 100% human but music—arrangements, melodies, harmonies—enhanced by AI?

His response was thoughtful and honest.

Personally, when I find out that a song has been AI-developed or enhanced, it takes away from the song, but that’s me. I think I will always appreciate songs MORE that come 100% from the human soul. There will probably be songs I enjoy that are a majority or even 100% AI, but they will probably be similar to artificial ingredients in food — enjoyable, but not nourishing the soul, and, who knows, maybe even detrimental in some way.

His analogy stuck with me.

Artificial ingredients may taste good. But they rarely nourish.

And if worship music is meant to nourish the soul of the Church, then the question of how AI enters that space matters more than we might initially think.

I wrote him back, explaining why I had been asking. Over the past several months, I have written a number of worship songs—lyrics that emerged from some of the deepest moments I have had with Jesus in prayer and in Scripture. The words were entirely mine. But when it came to the musical production side—arrangements, instrumentation, sonic texture, and even some chord progressions—I had experimented with AI tools.

That raised a question I couldn’t ignore. Was I crossing a line?

I reminded him of something from our earlier days in 5000 Fed. Back when our band recorded songs, we didn’t create music in isolation. Like every musician before us, we borrowed inspiration. One song, “Carry Me,” freely borrowed from the old Guns N’ Roses melody, a few chord progressions, and guitar solo from “Sweet Child O’ Mine.” It was clearly our song, but if you listened closely, you could tell the influence. An original worship song I wrote for our band used the same chord progression from an ‘80s rock anthem written and recorded by Survivor. Musicians have always learned by listening, adapting, and reshaping what came before them. In fact, in many ways, that is how creativity has always worked. There really is “nothing new under the sun.”1

So I asked him the question that had been sitting in the back of my mind:

If our lyrics came from real life, prayer, and spiritual wrestling, did those songs still come from the human soul even though we borrowed musical ideas? Or did that borrowing somehow dilute their authenticity?

His answer was encouraging.

You are right, there is nothing new under the sun, so hard to get away from having similarities to other songs, especially other songs that have been an inspiration. I LOVE that you are working on publishing “Biblically saturated” music and songs. That is where my heart finds encouragement and healing. There seems to be an evident difference in music created from a REAL and DEEP relationship with Christ from those that just seem shallow.

That exchange didn’t resolve my tension, nor am I using his response to attempt to justify using an AI hybrid. But it did reveal a reality that many thoughtful Christians like my friend Chris are understandingly hesitant about future AI’s role in our spiritual lives, where a deep and real relationship could so easily be replaced by the fake and shallow.

I fully emphasize with my fellow Christians who are tempted to simply reject artificial intelligence altogether. After all, if the technology introduces new ethical tensions, perhaps the safest response is to avoid it entirely. But as I’ve mentioned already, history suggests that response rarely works. The printing press was controversial when it first appeared. Some feared it would spread theological error and cheapen scholarship. In some ways, those fears proved justified. Propaganda and polemics spread faster than ever before. And yet the same printing press also placed Scripture into the hands of ordinary people and helped ignite the Protestant Reformation. The same pattern repeated during the Industrial Revolution and the rise of the Internet. Every technological leap introduced both opportunity and distortion.

Artificial intelligence is likely no different.

Whether we like it or not, AI is already being integrated into countless aspects of modern life. Students use it. Businesses use it. Governments use it. Musicians and writers use it. The technology is moving forward at a pace that makes resistance alone unrealistic.

In other words, the toothpaste is already out of the tube.

The real question is not whether AI will exist. The question is whether thoughtful people will help shape how it is used.

If Christians disengage entirely from the conversation, the ethical boundaries will simply be written by someone else.

For me, the place to begin thinking about AI is not with the technology itself, but with theology. Scripture teaches that human beings are created in the image of God. This means our creativity carries a unique dignity. When we write songs, compose music, or craft stories, we are not merely producing content. In some small way, we are reflecting the creative nature of our Creator.

This is especially true when creativity flows out of a relationship with God.

Many of the most powerful worship songs are born from spiritual wrestling—moments of prayer, repentance, gratitude, and longing. The Psalms themselves are full of that kind of raw honesty from King David. Artificial intelligence, no matter how sophisticated it becomes, cannot mimic that relationship. It can analyze patterns and generate language, but it cannot pray. It cannot worship. It cannot experience grace.

That distinction matters.

The breath behind worship must always come from a human spirit responding to the Holy Spirit.

These reflections eventually led me to begin drafting something I never expected to write: a set of ethical guardrails for using AI in worship music production.

It’s not because I think I have all the answers. But because every technological shift eventually requires thoughtful boundaries. Those reflections became the foundation for a small project and business I have been prayerfully created named WordEcho Publishing LLC—an effort to produce biblically saturated worship songs designed to serve churches and personal devotion for Christians. If AI is going to exist in the creative world, whether we like it or not, then the challenge becomes learning how to steward the tool without surrendering the human element that gives worship its soul.

That conviction eventually led to what I now call the WordEcho Distinctives and Code of Ethics.

We believe that every human being is created in the Image of God. This divine imprint bestows upon us a unique creative mandate: to represent God’s truth, beauty, and character on earth through our unique “human-hearted” expressions.

While Artificial Intelligence can mimic patterns and calculate probabilities, it lacks the capacity for a lived relationship with God. As image-bearers, our creativity is a form of worship and sanctification—a “wrestling” with the Word that a machine can never replicate. At WordEcho, we refuse to outsource the heart-work of the Gospel to an algorithm. We maintain that the “breath” of a song must always come from a human spirit responding to the Holy Spirit.

We recognize that we are living in the midst of a technological revolution comparable to the invention of the printing press, the Industrial Revolution, and the dawn of the internet. History teaches us that such shifts are inevitable and carry the risk of systemic dehumanization, the displacement of human creativity, and yet, profound opportunities. If we allow machines to do our thinking and our “feeling” for us, we risk silencing the very image of God we were meant to display.

Instead of retreating in fear, WordEcho Publishing chooses a path of proactive stewardship. We use technology as a “glove” for the human hand, never letting the tool replace the hand itself. We aim to model how the Church can navigate this revolution by getting ahead of the curve and “testing all things and holding fast to what is good” (1 Thess. 5:21).

1. The Primacy of Human Intent and Authorship

Every lyric originates from human study, prayer, and personal devotion in a deep relationship with the Triune God. WordEcho may use digital tools (thesauruses, AI editors, or linguistic refinement tools) to fine-tune our phrasing, but we never let a machine write the message. The theology and the stories we tell come from our own lives and words, not an algorithm.

2. The Tool as Servant, Not Master

We utilize AI as a “digital session musician” for production. We maintain Structural Sovereignty by directing chord progressions and melodies to ensure they echo the emotional weight of the Scripture, rejecting “average” algorithmic defaults (e.g., the Axis 4-chord progression loop). While the AI may at times suggest a musical direction we hadn’t considered, which can enhance the musical creativity, we “test” every suggestion. We only “hold fast” to these ideas if they enhance the biblical depth and clarity of the message.

3. Theological Integrity Over “Catchiness”

The “Word” in WordEcho always takes precedence. If a musical suggestion requires us to dilute or alter a direct Scripture paraphrase for the sake of the beat or a catchy hook, that suggestion is rejected. Our music serves the Text; the Text does not serve the music.

4. Radical Transparency

We are open about our “Hybrid-AI” model. We believe the Church deserves to know the origin of the songs they sing. By being transparent, we ensure the focus remains on the message and the human “scars” behind the testimony, fostering trust within the Body of Christ.

5. Stewardship of the “Human Element.”

We recognize that AI lacks the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. Our songs are designed to be resources that spark deeper personal devotion and human-led corporate worship, not a pragmatic replacement for them. We provide the “echo,” but the original sound must come from a heart in love with Jesus Christ.”

None of these guidelines will resolve every question surrounding artificial intelligence. But they represent an attempt to do something our culture rarely does when new technologies appear.

Slow down.

Ask deeper questions.

Think about formation, not just efficiency.

Artificial intelligence may prove to be one of the most powerful tools humanity has ever developed. Like every powerful tool before it, it will magnify both our wisdom and our foolishness. Which one it amplifies may depend on whether we are willing to think carefully about its role before convenience quietly shapes our habits.

My friend Chris and others may still prefer songs that are 100% human, including the music production side of things. In many ways, I suspect I will too.

But if AI is part of the world we now inhabit, the task before us is not simply to reject it or embrace it. It is to steward it. And stewardship begins by remembering something technology can never replace: the human person, created to worship the God who made it.

These principles may sound good in theory. But they only matter if they can survive the creative process itself.

For Part Three of this series, I want to share one of my songs I wrote born out of prayer in response to a message our lead pastor at Berkley Hills church preached, shaped with these guardrails, and produced using AI as a servant. I’ll share the story behind it, the lyrics, and the final recording—so you can judge for yourself whether the soul remains.