Playing God?” AI, Frankenstein and the Fear Beneath the Code

By Geoff Folland

Two centuries ago, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein gave the world an unforgettable image of scientific overreach: a man who creates life, only to abandon it. Today, in a world where artificial intelligence is writing sermons and generating theological reflections, Shelley’s parable feels uncannily current.

Among evangelicals, the emergence of AI in ministry has sparked familiar fears—concerns not only about theology and authorship, but about something deeper: what it means to be human, and what it means to minister with integrity under God.

Frankenstein’s Legacy: Life Without Love

Shelley’s classic novel, subtitled The Modern Prometheus, was born in an age of scientific revolution. Inspired by experiments in galvanism—using electricity to animate dead flesh—Frankenstein captured the anxieties of a world grappling with power it didn’t fully understand.

But Victor Frankenstein’s downfall wasn’t that he created life. It was that he refused to love it. He abandoned his creature, and in doing so, set in motion a cycle of isolation, bitterness and destruction.

In Shelley’s story, the monster is not evil by design. It becomes monstrous because it is unloved, unnamed, unparented. The message is as relevant today as it was then: when we pursue innovation without wisdom, knowledge without humility, or creation without covenant, we risk devastating consequences.

Enter AI: The New Frontier of Spiritual Innovation

Fast forward to the 21st century. Now it’s not corpses but code. AI systems like ChatGPT are generating sermons, devotionals, and even theological essays. Some pastors quietly use it to brainstorm, summarise commentaries, or polish their prose. Others, however, see a deeper danger.

Prominent evangelical voices have raised the alarm. John Piper, for example, has labelled AI-generated sermons “wicked,” not because the theology is necessarily flawed, but because the machine lacks the “right affections for God.” A robot can simulate a sermon’s structure—but it cannot feel the awe of the cross or the weight of sin.

Piper’s point is simple: true preaching flows not just from the mind, but from the heart. It is worship, not just information.

Writers at The Gospel Coalition have echoed this concern. “The Spirit does not flow through methods, but through men,” one article insists. Preaching is incarnational. It requires presence, prayer, and the living voice of one who knows both the text and the God who breathed it.

There’s also a pastoral cost. If AI becomes a silent ghostwriter, it may quietly hollow out the soul of ministry—making leaders more efficient, but less engaged. In Shelley’s terms, it risks creating content that “functions” but is spiritually fatherless.

Heresy, Homogenisation and the Risk of Middle-Ground Theology

Beyond questions of authenticity lie concerns about accuracy. AI systems draw from vast (and often secular) data sets. Theological nuance is easily lost, and doctrinal error can creep in unnoticed. Worse still, some fear that AI will trend toward theological mediocrity—blurring denominational distinctives and dulling prophetic clarity.

Tech entrepreneur Peter Thiel, in a New York Times interview, warned that AI “trends toward homogenisation.” Its algorithms favour consensus. That’s comforting in tech, perhaps—but in theology, where the gospel often confronts culture, it may lead to a loss of edge.

The Parallels Are Uncanny

Like Victor Frankenstein, we are standing at the threshold of something powerful and new. Like him, we face the temptation to create without care—and to walk away from what we’ve made.

Theme	Frankenstein	AI in Ministry
Playing God	Creates life unnaturally	Generates “spiritual” content
Lack of Soul	Monster lacks love and nurture	AI lacks spiritual affections
Abandonment	Creator deserts the creature	Risk of pastoral disengagement
Consequences	Tragedy and isolation	Heresy, mistrust, depersonalisation

What Shelley wrote as science fiction has become a strangely fitting mirror for our moment.

So What Should We Do?

Reject AI completely? Not necessarily. Discernment, not fear, is the wiser path forward.

As Piper argues, AI can’t worship. It can’t confess. It can’t embody the Word made flesh. But neither should we be Luddites. Like the printing press before it, AI can serve the Church—if it is kept in its place.

Used rightly, AI might summarise sources, draft outlines, or sharpen clarity. But it must never become the preacher. That role belongs to Spirit-filled humans, accountable to the Word, shaped by the Cross.

Thiel’s warning about conformity cuts both ways. On one hand, orthodoxy requires guardrails. On the other, the gospel must be applied prophetically and personally. That requires wisdom AI cannot supply.

And perhaps the final word goes to Mary Shelley herself. The greatest failure of Frankenstein was not creating life, but abandoning it. In ministry, the lesson is clear: if we use tools like AI, we must remain present—spiritually, emotionally, theologically.

Because ministry without presence isn’t just inauthentic. It’s inhuman.

From Monsters to Ministers

In the end, AI may be a helpful servant. But it will never be a preacher, never a prophet, never a pastor. That requires more than words. It requires love. And as Jesus showed us, love is something you must embody.

As the prophet Jeremiah warned, “They have forsaken me, the spring of living water, and have dug their own cisterns, broken cisterns that cannot hold water” (Jer. 2:13). That’s the real risk here—not that AI fails to generate words, but that we forget where true life comes from.

It doesn’t come from machines. It comes from the Spirit of the living God.

Geoff Folland is National Director of Power to Change Australia

Image: Frankenstein 1931 movie poster