Light In The Darkness: Redeeming Technology To Tell The Greatest Story Ever Told

Scroll through social media today and you'll likely feel a quiet unease. Artificial intelligence is replacing jobs. Algorithms are reshaping culture. Screens dominate attention. For many Christians, technology feels less like a tool and more like a threat--something to be tolerated cautiously, if not resisted outright. That fear isn't entirely misplaced. 

Tens of thousands of jobs are being disrupted by AI. Digital platforms can hollow out human connection. But history--and Scripture--reminds us of a deeper truth: technology itself is neutral. It is neither good nor evil. What matters is whose hands it is in, and what story it is being used to tell.

This Christmas season, one Texas church offered a compelling answer.

In Manvel, Texas, just south of Houston, The Church on Masters Road decided not to retreat from technology--but to redeem it. As part of its annual Bright Lights community outreach event, the non-denominational church used 1,000 drones to tell the story of Jesus Christ across the night sky. What unfolded over three evenings in 2025 was not a gimmick or a spectacle for spectacle's sake. It was a bold, creative, and unmistakably Gospel-centered proclamation--written in light, motion, and wonder.

Bright Lights was free and open to the public, intentionally designed as a family-friendly event that welcomed the entire community, churchgoers and skeptics alike. The festival included a snow hill for children who rarely see snow in South Texas, live music, bonfires, free food and hot chocolate, inflatable games, and a petting zoo. But perhaps the most quietly powerful feature was a car giveaway--two reliable used vehicles per night, awarded to individuals and families facing hardship who had applied in advance. It was generosity with no cameras chasing reactions, just love put into action.

Yet each night, as darkness settled, all eyes turned upward.

For fifteen minutes, one thousand synchronized drones rose hundreds of feet into the sky, forming scenes that traced the life of Christ--from His birth in Bethlehem to His sacrificial death. The Nativity appeared in glowing outline. Shepherds and angels took shape. The cross emerged in solemn clarity. Accompanied by a voiceover narration, the drones did more than entertain; they explained. The Gospel message was spoken plainly, faithfully, and without apology. In a world drowning in noise, the story of Jesus was told with precision, beauty, and reverence.

This is what it looks like when the Church refuses to confuse medium with message.

For centuries, Christians have used the cutting-edge tools of their time to spread the Gospel. The early Church relied on Roman roads and handwritten letters. The Reformation surged forward on the back of the printing press. Radio and television carried sermons into homes that would never open their doors to a pastor. The internet itself--now so often criticized--has delivered Scripture, worship, and testimony to the ends of the earth.

Drone technology is simply the next chapter in that story.

What makes the Manvel event so powerful is not the novelty of the drones, but the intentionality behind them. This was not technology used to impress, but technology used to serve. It was art in the service of truth. Innovation in submission to mission. The Church on Masters Road understood something many believers are still wrestling with: if the world is going to be shaped by technology, then the Church cannot afford to be absent from that shaping.

As we look toward 2026, this becomes a challenge for all of us.

Not everyone has access to drones or advanced software--but everyone has gifts, talents, and resources entrusted to them by God. Some are skilled in design, coding, or media. Others in hospitality, organization, storytelling, or generosity. Some understand emerging technologies deeply. Others simply know how to bring people together with warmth and purpose. The question is not whether we have something to offer the Kingdom. The question is whether we are willing to ask how it might be used.

Fear leads to retreat. Faith leads to creativity.

The Church does not need to mimic the culture, but it must engage it. We do not dilute the Gospel by presenting it through modern tools; we amplify it. The message of Christ has never depended on the medium--but every generation has been called to steward the mediums available to them.

On a December night in Texas, a thousand drones silently declared what angels once announced over Bethlehem: "Good news of great joy, which shall be for all people." The sky became a canvas. Technology became testimony. And the Church reminded the world that innovation, when surrendered to God, can still point unmistakably to the cross.

The question now is ours to answer: in the year ahead, how will we use what we've been given--not just to keep up with the world, but to invite it into the greatest story ever told?