This is the first in a four-part series by Dr. Dave Mulder titled, A Better Imagination for AI. In this first post, Dave challenges the narratives we have crafted around AI.
When we hear the word imagination, many of us picture kindergarteners in a dress-up corner bravely fighting invisible dragons with cardboard shields. Imagination feels like kid-stuff—something delightful and whimsical, but not exactly … serious.
But imagination isn’t childish. It’s human. Our capacity to imagine is actually one of the most powerful gifts God has given us! Your imagination is how you make sense of the world, even before you put that understanding into words.
James K. A. Smith reminds us that we are story-formed people, driven not only by what we think but by what we love and long for. Whether or not we notice it, we are always telling ourselves a story about who we are, what the world is like, and what flourishing looks like.
And here’s the most important part: those stories often go unexamined.
Okay, so most of us probably don’t wake up narrating our lives like a Tolkien character (“I must prepare for my quest to the teacher work room, readying myself to do battle with the photocopier …”). But internally, our imaginations are constantly at work: shaping our fears, our hopes, our habits, and yes, even our understanding of technology.
As Christian educators living in a world being shaped and reshaped by AI, we need to slow down and ask, What story are we telling ourselves about artificial intelligence?
Sci-Fi has already informed your AI imagination
Even if you’ve never been to a Comic-Con or debated whether the Millennium Falcon could beat the Enterprise, pop culture has almost certainly shaped your imagination when it comes to robots and AI.
Think about it:
- 2001: A Space Odyssey gave us HAL 9000, that calm-voiced, very unsettling AI antagonist.
- The Terminator taught us to fear cold, relentless machine power wearing a Schwarzenegger-sized leather jacket.
- The Matrix whispered that the digital world might swallow us whole.
- Marvel’s Ultron warned us about technological hubris dressed in sarcastic quips.
- Star Wars gave us R2-D2 and C-3PO—loyal, charming, and often more lovable than the humans.
- Wall-E showed us a robot with soul-level tenderness.
- Star Trek gave us Data, the android who made us ask, Could a machine be … human?
Whether hopeful or terrifying, those stories work on us. They don’t just entertain—they shape imagination. Without realizing it, many of us already carry one of these AI scripts:
- AI as hero (our helpful, beeping little friend)
- AI as villain (cue dramatic music and red glowing eyes)
- AI as misunderstood wannabe human
- AI as tool that might become tyrant
Movies and novels have done powerful work shaping our imaginations long before we heard of ChatGPT.
So, before we debate AI policies, ethical frameworks, or classroom practices, we should interrogate the frame of mind we bring to the conversation: What imagination about AI am I bringing with me? And where did it come from?
Here’s the problem: You are not a computer
Today’s AI tools—especially large language models—can feel surprisingly human. They chat. They imitate empathy. They “learn.” They “think.” At least, that’s how it seems.
Because of that illusion, many of us slip into a dangerous mental shortcut: We start treating AI as if it works like human intelligence—and treating humans as if we are machines.
MIT researcher Sherry Turkle has spent decades studying this phenomenon. She’s found that we increasingly do two things at once:
- Attribute human qualities to computers (“My smart speaker understands me!”).
- Treat humans like objects or processors (“I just don’t have the bandwidth for people today …”).
We say computers “think.”
We talk about “processing” emotions or “optimizing” our relationships.
We tell Alexa “thank you.”
We type to each other what we’d never say face-to-face.
These moves are subtle, but they show how imagination works its way into language—and language into belief.
Andy Crouch gives us a better framework, drawing on the words of Jesus himself. Humans are not logic boxes with legs. We are, as Crouch beautifully says, “heart-soul-mind-strength complexes designed for love.”
To navigate our AI-shaped world wisely, we need an imagination shaped not by Hollywood hype or Silicon Valley dreams, but by Scripture, Christian hope, and a robust theology of what it means to be fully human.
Machines can mimic language. They can simulate reasoning. They can produce outputs that feel relational.
But machines cannot love. They cannot worship. They do not bear God’s image.
The “intelligence” of AI is extraordinary—but it is not human.
And the intelligence of humans is miraculous—but it is not mechanical.
If we conflate and confuse humans and AI, we risk losing something sacred.
So what now? We need a better imagination
As Christian educators, our calling isn’t simply to learn how AI works (though we should!). It’s to cultivate an imagination rooted in the Gospel—the big story:
- God created humans in His image, and we are designed for relationship, love, wisdom, and worship.
- In the fall, everything in creation was twisted and tarnished—including technology.
- But—thanks be to God—Christ’s sacrificial work on the cross has redeemed all things, from our relationships with each other to our relationship with technology.
- We, as Christ’s followers, are invited to participate in the restoration of all things!
To navigate our AI-shaped world wisely, we need an imagination shaped not by Hollywood hype or Silicon Valley dreams, but by Scripture, Christian hope, and a robust theology of what it means to be fully human.
An invitation
Christian educators, we are living in a technological moment unlike any before. The temptation is to panic—or to uncritically embrace the shiny new tool. But in the face of this choice, I want us to consider a third way: the better path of discernment.
Ask yourself—and your colleagues:
- What story am I telling about AI?
- What story does Scripture tell about what it means to be human?
- How can my school cultivate practices that form students not just to use technology, but to love God and neighbor more deeply through the ways we use the tools at our disposal?
We don’t need less imagination—we need a better one. We need an imagination that will help us to teach—and live—faithfully in an AI world.
