AI vs HUMAN

I've been sitting with something for a while now that’s been stirring me up—a conversation, really, about what it means to be human, and the power of what we create. And I feel like it’s something worth sharing because it’s gotten me thinking about all of us—the work we do, the creativity we pour into the world, and why it matters so much, not just to us, but to the very essence of who we are as people.

For four years, I spent a good chunk of my life studying writing. College wasn’t just about learning how to put sentences together or figure out proper grammar. It was about learning how to tell stories that matter. It was about discovering my voice, learning how to express myself, and recognizing the power of words. It was more than just writing. It was about realizing that words carry weight. They shape the way we see the world, the way we understand our own lives, and the way we connect with others. Words don’t just convey information—they convey meaning, emotion, truth. That’s what makes them so powerful.  You see, I was working on the teaching "Douse Your Mouth"!

I know that a lot of you reading this probably have that same connection to your work—whether you're a writer, an artist, a creator of any kind. There's a deep sense of ownership that comes with creating something meaningful. When you pour yourself into something, whether it’s a piece of writing or an artwork or a project at work, there's something uniquely human about it. You don’t just create; you invest yourself into it. It’s personal. And that’s what makes creation so special—it’s the way we, as humans, can take something from our minds and make it into something that touches the world in ways we can’t always explain.

But then something happened recently that really flipped my perspective. I was doing some research for my blog, just bouncing around the internet, when I stumbled upon an AI testing site. Naturally, I was curious, so I decided to take my writing and run it through the AI to see how it measured up. I thought, “Let’s see how this thing handles MY stuff.” To my surprise—no, scratch that—to my shock, this AI took MY writing and claimed it was its own! It looked at the words I wrote, the ideas I put together, and said, “Oh, this is AI-generated content.” Wait, what? It wasn’t just analyzing my work to proofread—it was trying to take credit for it! I can’t even explain how I felt in that moment, but it was like this cold realization hit me: this—this is exactly why AI is messing with our understanding of what it means to be human. I get that it’s a machine and proofreading is what it’s supposed to do. But in that moment, I felt like something essential about US humans was being disregarded.

AI can do a lot of things. It can crunch data, speed up repetitive tasks, assist in research, and maybe even spit out something that looks like a decent sentence now and then. But when it comes to real creation? The kind of creation that comes from the heart? That’s where it falls apart. AI doesn’t have heart. It doesn’t understand. It can’t feel the weight of a story or a piece of music or a moment in art. It doesn’t know why those words or images matter. It just takes patterns from what it’s been taught, puts them together, and repeats. It can look polished, but it’s empty. That’s the difference. AI can mimic us, but it can’t truly craft like we can. It doesn’t have the why behind what it’s doing. It’s like this: you wouldn’t give credit to a hammer for building a house, right? The hammer didn’t design the house; it was used by a human to build it. The same is true for AI: it can replicate, but it can’t innovate. It can’t feel the emotions behind a story, or understand why a certain choice of words or colors can break someone’s heart or lift them up.

This whole experience made me reflect on something much deeper, though. It’s about what it means to be human. And not just in terms of our ability to create, but in terms of why we create. There’s something more spiritual at play here. I don’t want to get all preachy on you, but I think there’s a bigger connection to be made. If you look at the Bible, in Genesis 1:26, God says, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.” The Hebrew word for “image” here is tselem (צֶלֶם), which speaks to a resemblance, but not just in a physical sense—it’s about the spiritual, intellectual, and creative nature we share with God. We’re made to create because God, as our Creator, made us in His image. That’s why we have the ability to think, to dream, and to imagine. We create because we are made to reflect the Creator.

And this is where it all hits home for me. When AI tries to take credit for something we’ve made—when it tries to claim our creativity as its own—it feels like it’s stealing something that belongs to us, something that reflects the divine. It’s like it’s taking the glory that’s meant to be ours because we are made in God’s image and have been given the power to create. AI can’t do that. It doesn’t understand the heart behind the work. It doesn’t know the struggle or the joy that goes into making something real, something human.

And honestly, this whole thing got me thinking about our future—about our kids. What happens when we start relying too much on AI to think for us, to create for us, to even decide for us? Sure, AI can speed things up and help us get through boring tasks faster. But I’m afraid we might be losing something more precious: the ability to engage our own minds and hearts. And when we stop using those things—when we stop creating with them—we lose our connection to our divine purpose.

There’s a verse in Proverbs 3:5-6 that says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.” The word for “understanding” in Hebrew is biyn (בִּין), and it’s about discernment, insight. It’s not just intellectual knowledge—it’s deeper than that. It’s the kind of wisdom that guides our decisions and our creativity. AI might be able to process data, but it can’t discern. It doesn’t understand why a choice of words matters in a way that makes someone think differently about the world, or why a specific brushstroke in a painting makes someone feel a sense of peace. AI doesn’t experience life the way we do, and that’s the key difference. We create with purpose. We create with heart. And that’s why no machine can ever replace the depth of our creativity.

And let’s not forget: AI wouldn’t exist without us. Without humans feeding it data, teaching it, and guiding it, AI would be nothing. It’s just a tool. A machine. That’s the thing we need to remember: we are the creators. Isaiah 45:9 says, “Woe to him who strives with him who formed him, a pot among earthen pots! Does the clay say to him who forms it, ‘What are you making?’” We, as humans, are the potters. We’re the ones who have the ideas, the vision, the purpose to create. AI is the clay—the tool. It can’t shape anything by itself. Without us, it would be useless.

And add to that: AI doesn’t have the ability to create meaning. It can put words together, sure, but it doesn’t know why they matter. It doesn’t feel the weight of a sentence or the emotional punch of a story or joke. It can’t connect with the reader in the same way a human can. We, as humans, are the ones who create meaning. We are the ones who take something and give it purpose. And that’s something AI will never be able to replicate.

Ephesians 2:10 tells us, “For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” We’re created for good works. We’re created to create. That’s the divine purpose we were made for. Whether it’s writing, art, or any other kind of creation, it’s not just about making things—it’s about making things with a purpose. That’s what AI will never understand. It can’t have that purpose. It can’t create with the heart.

So when AI tries to take credit for what we’ve made, it’s not just a tech issue—it’s a reminder for us to hold onto our creativity, our wisdom, and our ability to make something meaningful. We create because we are made to create. And that is something no machine will ever replace.

I hope this message blessed you. If so, please leave a comment. I look forward to hearing from you.

Anna M. C. Hazen  2025

The image is ... (for humor's sake) AI generated on chatgpt.