Beneath the Surface: On Spiritual Dryness and Remaining Alive
As I continued reflecting on technology, artificial intelligence, humanity, and discernment, I realized the deeper issue is not truly the technology itself.
Technology changes.
Human tools evolve.
Civilizations rise and fall.
But the condition of the human heart remains the great question of every age.
Throughout history, humanity has continually advanced:
- language,
- agriculture,
- science,
- medicine,
- industry,
- communication,
- art,
- and now artificial intelligence.
Each generation encounters new forms of knowledge and power capable of producing tremendous good or tremendous harm.
And perhaps that has always been the tension of human existence since the Fall.
God never asked humanity to sit passively and merely watch the world unfold. From the very beginning, Adam was called to cultivate the garden, tend the land, and participate in creation responsibly. Human creativity, discovery, innovation, and even technology can all be understood as part of that ongoing fruitfulness.
The question is not whether humanity will continue advancing.
It will.
The deeper question is:
What are we cultivating while doing so?
Because every gift humanity receives carries responsibility alongside possibility.
A camera may preserve beauty or distort reality.
A microphone may proclaim truth or spread hatred.
Artificial intelligence may assist education, creativity, medicine, and communication — or deepen manipulation, confusion, exploitation, and disconnection.
The tools themselves do not absolve humanity of moral responsibility. If anything, they intensify it.
And perhaps this is where modern society struggles most deeply.
We live in a world overflowing with information yet often lacking wisdom. We are increasingly connected yet emotionally fragmented. We move quickly, react instantly, consume endlessly, and rarely pause long enough to examine the condition of our own hearts.
Without discernment, we risk becoming spiritually dry while remaining technologically advanced.
Recently, I found myself reflecting on a dream I once had years ago. In it, the surface of the world appeared barren and lifeless. A woman pushed an empty baby carriage across dry and devastated land. Yet beneath the surface was another world entirely. Deep underground, perfectly round openings in the earth contained living plants quietly growing. I was below tending and watering each one carefully.
The contrast stayed with me.
Perhaps this is the danger of every age: outward advancement without inward cultivation.
If we neglect the soul, neglect conscience, neglect truth, neglect compassion, neglect our responsibility toward one another, we slowly risk becoming inwardly empty while outwardly functional — moving through life without truly being alive.
Yet beneath the surface, life can still be nurtured.
This, I believe, is where responsibility returns to each of us personally.
Not merely governments.
Not corporations.
Not institutions.
But humanity itself — one heart at a time.
How we use the gifts entrusted to us matters.
Do we bury our talents in fear?
Do we exploit them selfishly?
Or do we cultivate them responsibly and place them into service for truth, beauty, wisdom, and the good of others?
In many ways, technology simply magnifies what already exists within the human heart.
And perhaps that is why discernment matters now more than ever.
Not panic.
Not blind enthusiasm.
But discernment.
Because in the end, each generation will be remembered not merely for the tools it created, but for what it chose to cultivate while holding them in its hands.
And perhaps remaining truly alive requires that we continue tending what is still living beneath the surface — within ourselves, within our families, and within the fragile humanity we all share.
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