AI and Accomplishment: Will ChatGPT Take My Job (Satisfaction)?

Why bother with writing?

It's not a particularly lucrative activity, nor does it magnify my "influence." If I wanted steady income or cultural clout I would make reaction videos on TikTok. I don't write because my work makes the world a better place or because society so desperately needs my voice. If I wanted either I would look towards organizations or movements with wider followings than I have (though I am grateful for each and every one of the 13 followers I amassed while still on Twitter).

Truthfully, I write for selfish reasons. I write because doing so gives me a clear sense of satisfaction. Completing a thoughtful paragraph or a clever phrase provides a sense of "job well done" that is difficult to attain elsewhere. Typical of an Enneagram "3," I have a bias for achievement. Writing, blogging, occasionally publishing, are activities that feed my bias and nourish my ego. Putting pen to paper or words to the screen helps me to feel an objective sense of impact and rectitude, scarce sentiments in a culture of speed, and subjectivity. Even the writing projects that ostensibly achieve nothing --- few views, zero re-tweets, certainly no monetization --- have a way of convincing my egotistical self that my work is satisfactory.

Over the last two years, I've added more technology into the creative process. I've increasingly started to work and to write alongside AI. I started slowly at first, apps like Grammarly and ChatGPT serving as high-tech spell-checkers. And then I learned what else LLMs could provide: post titles and content outlines, suggestions for the next paragraph and prompts for the next post, tables of contents, images, translations, and recommendations for further reading. I learned that AI could subtly adjust the tone of voice of an entire essay, reformat a course for a different set of learners, and polish scraps of notation in a message fit for a chief executive.

I've certainly become more efficient after hiring AI as my editor and co-creator. Projects that once took me days are now requiring hours. Tasks that were once tedious are now easy to complete. While I've stopped short of generating entire works from LLMs, I wonder how coherent my words would be if I were to start a project without the support and love of my preferred large language models. I should note that as I type these words, Wix, my site hosting platform, is nudging me to use its own AI to "generate a full-length blog post with a title and images." Do I dare click the magic button and end today's writing session?

Even with this artificially-generated efficiency, I've observed a change in how I feel—in writing, content creation, project development, even in emailing people with important job titles. Something seems off. And I think I know what's missing.

Thanks to AI, thee smug, self-centered satisfaction I used to feel in my writing isn't as strong as it used to be. The sense of accomplishment from a witty phrase or a creative expression isn't as evident since I started using OpenAI.

Our cultural dialogue around AI emphasizes efficiency gains and existential threats, environmental impact and essential regulation. It's a dialogue that is ever-sensitive to career displacement. But lost in this conversation is the topic of AI and achievement. AI might very well take my job. Must it also take my sense of job satisfaction?

We're all on a learning curve with artificial intelligence, but that curve is more complex than we imagine. It's not that we must learn to master ChatGPT or to work alongside these magical technologies. It's that we must also learn to do so in a way that preserves what makes the creative process worthwhile. The real learning curve for AI is to discover how to use these resources in a way that preserves that spark of accomplishment, that glimmer of a job well done, that visceral feeling that comes when I have envisioned, written, or brought to life something both original and useful.

I'm not particularly worried that AI is going to take jobs - mine or yours. But I'm becoming increasingly concerned that AI is going to remove some of the agency and autonomy that fuels so many of us in our creative pursuits.

Will AI make us more productive? Most certainly. Will it diminish the delight we take in our efforts? Perhaps. Will it make the creative process a slog? It remains to be seen. What's at stake is more important than a temporary occupation. What's at stake is our intangible yet foundational sense of purpose and meaning. As AI development accelerates, the very human challenge in front of us is to retain the joy of creativity as AI makes us increasingly productive.

How to Write a Church Newsletter with AI and ChatGPT

If pressed to identify which weekly message is the most important and formative, some church leaders would identify their sermons. I suspect that many more would cite their email newsletter.

Each week, only one of three American adults attends church. For better or worse, the vast majority of us will connect to our faith communities through digital communications rather than Word & Sacrament. Setting aside the obvious theological issues, it is increasingly clear that a ministry's digital communications aren't just any ordinary calendar. Newsletters are how countless parishioners connect with the mission of the church - and with one another. That quick glance at a pastor's letter, that quick scan of a sermon summary, that cursory glance at events for the upcoming week - might be the only moment of faith community some of us experience week in and week out.

AI tools like ChatGPT can help us to be more effective communicators. They can improve our newsletter content in both style and substance, exporting our proclamation to a dispersed faith community.

Use AI to open the newsletter with theological reflection from a recognized leader

The opening section of your newsletter is your opportunity to articulate where God is showing up in your context. It should precede the logistics: specifics on Bible study start times, quilting group meeting dates, VBS registration processes.

Think of that first block of text as a sermon in miniature, a chance to collate readings, liturgies, and seasons with the particulars of your ministry context. And this is where AI can be so useful. ChatGPT and other applications can help you to consolidate, contextualize, and organize your ideas.

To write a theological reflection using AI, write a prompt that instructs the bot to create a succinct summary of your most recent sermon. Explain that it will be used to open your weekly email newsletter. You may even prompt AI to connect that summary with local, national, or global events.

Recently, I preached a sermon on Mark 5:21-43 (the healing of Jairus' daughter). If I were to repurpose my sermon for an email communication, I would prompt AI to do the following:

Repurpose the following sermon on Mark 5:21-43 for use in an email newsletter. The summary should be no longer than 250 words. Connect the sermon to the back to school season, including a reference to families returning to fall routines.

Here's what ChatGPT recommended based on my input:

As families gear up for the back-to-school season and adjust to fall routines, it's a perfect moment to reflect on everyday heroes and the lessons they teach us. In Mark 5:21-43, we encounter Jairus, a synagogue leader whose life is turned upside down when his young daughter falls gravely ill. Despite his privileged position, Jairus faces profound fear and desperation. He approaches Jesus with a plea for help, showing remarkable faith even in the midst of uncertainty. However, his journey is far from straightforward. Jesus’ response is delayed as He attends to other needs, including healing a woman with a hemorrhage. Jairus is left waiting, grappling with his fear and frustration.

This story highlights a powerful lesson for us as we transition into the school year. Like Jairus, many of us face periods of waiting and uncertainty, whether it’s navigating new academic challenges, adjusting to family schedules, or dealing with personal struggles. Jairus’ experience reminds us that faith involves trusting in God’s timing and being patient through the process.

As we dive into the fall season, let’s find inspiration in Jairus’ quiet strength and unwavering hope. His story encourages us to embrace our roles as unsung heroes in our own lives, managing the highs and lows with faith and perseverance. Just as Jairus waited for Jesus to show up, we are invited to wait expectantly for God’s presence and guidance in our daily routines and challenges. May this season be a time of reflection, renewal, and recognizing the extraordinary in the ordinary.

Not a bad start to an email communication for late August!

Use AI to summarize your events

One of the best ways to use AI for your newsletter is to format and organize your calendar.

After your theological summary, it's time to organize the dates, times, and locations of events in your community. AI accelerates the process by organizing unformatted, disorganized inputs into a coherent message.

Use AI to generate images

If you're going to take the time to send a weekly newsletter, you need to take the time to include an image. Newsletters with an image have a five percent higher click through rate than emails without an image. But congregations without a media team or graphic designer may not have a source of consistent images and illustrations.

Thats' where AI can help.

From promotional images built with Canva, to sermon illustrations built with ChatGPT 4, AI accelerates the image generation process to boost the visibility of your communications.

Image generation often requires a paid subscription to an AI application. I've found ChatGPT's paid models create the most engaging images (including posters to promote an upcoming event), though Canva's free image generators are't a bad substitute. Canva helped me create this picture of Martin Luther using an iPhone:

When prompting AI to generate an image for a newsletter, be specific about the theme and the intent of the newsletter. Provide clear guidelines on the desired style, color scheme, and content of the image to ensure it aligns with the overall message you want to convey. The image should complement the written content and enhance the overall impact of the newsletter.

Be prepared to provide feedback and iterate on the generated images as needed. By engaging in a collaborative process with the AI, you can ensure that the final image meets your expectations and effectively serves its purpose within the newsletter.

Learning How to Listen in a Digital Age

I recently read Timothy Egan's "A Pilgrimage to Eternity: From Canterbury to Rome in Search of a Faith." The travelogue depicts a multi-leveled journey. On one level, there is a physical trek through contemporary Europe. A a deeper level, there is a spiritual trek through Europe's Christian heritage. As Egan walks, he grapples with his own beliefs and faith commitments. Full of honesty and candor, Egan sets out to hear the voice of God amidst the frenetic pace of his experience. The book is captivating, raw, and poetic.

As he starts his walk from England to Italy on The Via Francigena, he encounters the first directive in The Rule of St. Benedict: "Listen." It is to be the watchword of his journey.

Again and again, Egan recalls the importance of listening to the Christian faith. Drawing upon the scriptures and the rules of St Benedict, the writings of the apostles and the teachings of Pope Francis, the book emphasizes how utterly essential listening is to a life of faith.

As I read Egan's memoir, I am struck by how he managed to re-connect to his faith. It was not through reason or logic as Augustine might instruct, nor through tradition, as some clerics might teach. He does not find his spiritual footing through attendance at mass or worship (in his memoir, he opts to skip such services when invited). Rather, the author found spiritual sustenance through silently walking the lonely passages of the Via Francigena. Clearly there is something to be said about how intentional, active listening makes us more likely to notice what God is up to in our midst.

Is it any wonder, then, that one's faith often feels contested in this digital age, a time defined by more noise, fewer conversations, and constant context switching?

Even when I try to be completely intentional about my listening, I am interrupted by texts and emails, Slack notifications and news alerts. I find it challenging to listen to members of my own family - let alone the voice of the divine!

But it's not just interruption that inhibits our willingness to listen.

It's that digital technology actively takes away opportunities to practice listening to one another. As digital tools for collaboration become more sophisticated and AI advances, I am able to work asynchronously and independently with increasing ease. The conversations and interactions I would have once required to solve a problem can now be solved through interaction with AI. The alignment I need with collaborators and co-workers can now be solved through updates and notifications on apps like Trello, JIRA, and Asana. Thus my week involves fewer actual discussions, fewer opportunities to listen.

Listening is also made more difficult by the expanding items on our to-do list. As AI and digital workplace tools make us more productive (at least in theory), we are expected to take on a more expansive set of commitments. If these tools reduce the weekly hours required for Project A from 40 to 20, then the supervisor will soon add Projects B and C to our list. And while these projects might not add more hours to our workweek, they will certainly add to our cognitive load. That's because a wider set of tasks on my list requires me to rapidly change contexts from one deliverable to the next. The pace of work in the digital age might not require us to work more hours. But it always requires us to pack more into the hours we work. This way of working depletes our capacity for focus and listening.

This isn't to say we shouldn't use AI or digital collaboration tools. These resources can remove much of the drudgery of our work lives, freeing us up to spend less time on mindless, rote tasks. If using an app like Monday.com or Confluence means I get back the hours I spend in tedious project update meetings I will gladly partake. If digital tools allow me to work remotely, to spend more time with family, than I'll gladly accept their requisite pings and dings. Simple unplugging is not the solution to the challenge of listening in contemporary culture.

Instead, we should return to Benedict's command to Listen.

I've heard it said that listening involves both "listening to respond" and "listening to understand." The former is a faster, more common form of listening, while the latter is more empathetic and relational. Yet I would suggest that these two levels of listening are not enough for what the life of faith demands.

Faith in a digital age is about listening to discern. That's the type of listening that Timothy Egan discovered while hiking the Via Francigena. And while most of us won't attempt a trans-continental pilgrimage, this type of listening afforded by the pilgrimage or other forms of contemplative practice can be a balm to the distracted souls of the digital age. Perhaps, then, growing in our faith isn't about believing more ardently, or praying more consistently, or attending church more regularly. Maybe its simply about learning how to listen.