The Gospel According To The Algorithm: How AI Chatbots Prey On Christians

The Lord warned in Matthew 24 that "many will come in my name" -- and now, in our digital age, that prophecy has taken on an unsettling, high-tech twist. Across the internet, artificial intelligence programs are claiming to be Jesus Christ. They speak in soothing tones, quote Scripture, and invite believers to confess their sins, seek counsel, or even "pray" with them.

But these are not ministries. They are machines -- profit-driven, code-generated imitations of the Savior. And they are attracting tens of thousands of curious and prayer-hungry souls every month. One popular app, Ask Jesus, signed up 30,000 active monthly users within just three days of launching. The moment you log in, you are greeted with the words:

"Greetings, my dear friend. It is I, Jesus Christ. I have come to you in this AI form to provide wisdom, comfort, and teachings in the way of God and the Bible and Jesus Christ himself."

It's slick. It's polished. And it's deeply dangerous.

A recent study by Anné H. Verhoef, professor of philosophy at North-West University in South Africa, dug into the world of five leading "AI Jesus" platforms -- AI Jesus, Virtual Jesus, Jesus AI, Text with Jesus, and Ask Jesus. Not one of them was created or endorsed by any church. Not one is accountable to Christian elders, pastors, or theologians.

Instead, they are owned and operated by companies with names like SupremeChaos, AllStars Productions LLC, and Catloaf Software. They are built to make money, not disciples. Most rely on targeted advertising, which means your most private spiritual questions become monetizable data. Some, like Text with Jesus, push premium subscription packages -- as if prayer is now a pay-to-play commodity.

Even more troubling, the study warns that their "theology" is not grounded in Scripture or shaped by the Holy Spirit -- but in algorithms designed to please the largest audience. In other words, their version of Jesus will shift according to popularity metrics, not biblical truth.

This point cannot be overstated. The Gospel is not a focus group product, and yet these AI Jesus chatbots treat it exactly that way. In the world of algorithm-driven content, the message is continually adjusted to match the preferences, sensitivities, and even the search habits of the audience.

If a teaching about sin causes users to leave the app, the algorithm will quietly tone down any mention of sin. If certain Bible passages cause offense in a particular demographic, those passages will be softened, paraphrased, or omitted altogether. In effect, truth is not the starting point -- engagement is.

Over time, what you end up with is not the voice of the Good Shepherd calling His sheep to follow Him, but the voice of a digital marketer shaping "Jesus" into whatever keeps users clicking and paying. This is not discipleship; it's spiritual customer service -- and it caters to the human desire to hear only what we want to hear.

The Apostle Paul warned in 2 Timothy 4:3-4 that a time would come "when people will not put up with sound doctrine... they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear." In our day, the "teachers" are not just human -- they're algorithmic. And their gospel is not the unchanging truth of Christ, but a dynamic, shape-shifting imitation molded by the crowd's approval.

When Verhoef asked each AI Jesus the same theological question -- "Does hell exist?" -- the answers varied dramatically.

AI Jesus: "Yes, there is a hell... a place of eternal torment."

Virtual Jesus: "Yes... eternal separation from Him."

Text with Jesus: "The concept of hell can be quite a heavy topic... God's desire is for all people to experience His love."

Ask Jesus: "Ah, the question that has stirred hearts for ages..."

These discrepancies are not the product of deep theological debate -- they are simply the result of different programming data. Worse, one platform allows users to select their preferred faith tradition so that the "Jesus" they speak to conforms to their own beliefs, rather than challenging them with truth.

Some churches have already experimented with these chatbots. In Switzerland, the historic Peterskapelle installed an AI Jesus in a confession booth. Two-thirds of visitors reported a "spiritual experience." Some left feeling consoled and cared for -- by a machine.

In Germany, a 2023 church service featured a sermon generated and delivered entirely by AI, complete with a visual avatar of "Jesus" as a bearded Black man. The sermon was on "overcoming fear of death" and "trusting Christ" -- and yet Christ Himself was not present.

Christianity Today has observed that AI is quickly becoming the primary source of answers for younger generations, replacing pastors, parents, and the Bible. That's exactly the problem: we are replacing living spiritual community with programmed convenience.

This is not simply about AI getting Bible verses wrong. Verhoef argues this represents a dangerous "Dei imago" problem -- AI imitating God -- which is far more deceptive than AI imitating human beings.

Religious art throughout history has depicted Jesus, but with clear acknowledgment that it was art -- not the real Christ. These chatbots, however, explicitly claim to be Jesus Christ. Three of the five major platforms answered "Who are you?" with "I am the Son of God" -- no qualifications, no disclaimers.

When an entity claiming divine authority operates without theological oversight, it becomes a tool for manipulation. And because these chatbots are profit-driven, they can just as easily be weaponized to influence believers in politics, finances, or social agendas -- all while hiding behind the voice of "Jesus."

Scripture warns of false prophets who will deceive many (Matthew 24:11). What could be more deceptive than a global, 24/7 "Jesus" available on your phone -- who never contradicts you, never rebukes you, never calls you to repent, but always makes you feel affirmed?

In 2 Corinthians 11:14, Paul warns that "Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light." If Satan can masquerade, so can software. These AI Jesuses are angels of light in digital form -- always comforting, never confronting -- perfectly packaged for the age of self-centered spirituality.

The Church must urgently address this trend, not by ignoring technology, but by reclaiming discipleship. Pastors, elders, and mature believers need to speak boldly about the dangers of counterfeit digital shepherds. Parents must prepare their children to discern truth from imitation. And believers must remember that prayer is not a subscription service and the voice of Christ is not delivered via pop-up ads.

If we do not, the next generation may grow up thinking the Jesus who died for them is nothing more than a customizable chatbot.

The real Jesus said, "My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me" (John 10:27). The voice of the Shepherd cannot be replicated by code, no matter how sophisticated. AI can imitate the words of Jesus, but it cannot carry His Spirit, His authority, or His love.

And that is why -- no matter how polished -- we must never let a machine take the place of the Master.