“In our exploration of complex concepts, such as mental models and rational thought, this blog leverages the power of Large Language Models (LLMs) like ChatGPT to enhance our understanding and articulation of ideas. While AI plays a pivotal role in synthesizing vast amounts of information, it’s important to recognize that the insights generated are a product of human experience intertwined with machine precision.”
There’s something I’ve wrestled with deeply—how to explain where I come from, and why I think the way I do, especially to the people I love in the church.
I know Jesus is the truth. He’s not an idea or philosophy—He’s the person all truth points to. But the path God led me on to see that wasn’t always a straight one. I didn’t start with answers—I started with questions. Questions about how I think, how the world works, why I feel the way I do, and how to make sense of suffering and identity.
For a while, philosophy gave me a language for that search. And I’ve learned—especially now, looking back with clearer eyes—that this search isn’t a betrayal of faith. In fact, it’s something God has often used to prepare the heart to receive truth. The Bible isn’t against reason—it shows us that wisdom begins in reverence. It doesn’t say “don’t think”—it says “take every thought captive.”
Even Paul, when he stood before the philosophers in Athens, didn’t start by quoting Scripture. He started by quoting them. Their poets, their thoughts, their worldview. And then, he turned that mirror to show them Christ. I think about that a lot. I’m not Paul, but I feel a similar burden: to speak in a way people can hear—even if it means starting with unfamiliar language.
When I write, I’m not trying to be lofty. I’m trying to build a bridge. Some people don’t walk straight into church on a Sunday. Some people need to see that someone else has felt what they feel, questioned what they question, and still ended up saying: Jesus is the answer.
I know the Spirit of God is what draws us. I can’t argue anyone into the Kingdom. But I do believe the goodness of God—the inherent good—is something we can show, reflect, and reveal, even when we’re writing in a way that feels a little different.
And here’s the thing: all the disciplines we respect—science, logic, math, even the idea of “proof”—they began as philosophy. Before they were methods, they were ways to ask what’s true. And before we ever speak of knowledge, we should remember: wisdom was with God from the beginning.
If this reaches someone who’s wandered far—may it show that God can speak even in the wilderness of the mind. And if it reaches someone in the church who wonders why I take this approach—may it be clear that it’s not because I’m doubting, but because I’ve seen too much beauty and order to keep quiet about the Designer.
And if it reaches no one but you, God, may it still be worship.
Let it all point back to You.
