Who is America's God now? | Science

We estimate that human understanding can account for about 5% of the universe, and that is our own estimation, it’s probably even less. Within that five percent is something labeled “Dark Matter.” Which I learned is a fancy way to say “we have no clue what this is.”

There is clearly some kind of unknown energy holding the universe together, but we don’t know what it is.

Dark matter outweighs visible matter 6 to 1, which means most of what we “know,” we actually don’t know. So whether we label it energy or God, we agree that there is some unknown force holding our galaxy together and we can’t fully comprehend what/who it is. But many of us want to, desperately.

Most of the world is a cosmic mystery to us, just like it was to the Greeks when they were writing their myths, or the Hebrews when they passed down the story of creation. Each generation does its best to answer the questions:

  • Who am I?
  • Where am I?
  • What should I be doing here?

I believe there is a duality to reality — that material things have spiritual significance.

In realty, if a home was the site of a horrific event — murder, sexual assault, torture, etc. it is considered a “stigmatized property.” There are even some states that require horrific events to be disclosed to a potential buyer. In 2021, Realtor.com found that 80% of Americans wouldn’t live in a home where a murder took place. Why is that? There is no material explanation for that. Just because someone was murdered in a house doesn’t mean that the house itself should be affected once it’s been cleaned and cleared. But most of us know that isn’t the case. That is why we don’t want to buy the “haunted” home — because there is some unexplainable, non-material, energy there.

There are so many mysteries in this world that can’t be explained by only looking at the things we see. We also have to consider the things that we do NOT see, and how these two realities work together.

With science rapidly advancing, discussions of religion, faith and meaning have failed to keep pace. We can calculate lightspeed, but we can’t figure out how to keep our families together. Medicines extend our lives, but we don’t know how to fill the extra time.

Yet, if we can allow them to work together, science and faith are natural allies. At their best, they are both fundamentally based on an honest curiosity about the world–they both inspire endless questions and a general sense of awe about how masterfully this universe is put together.

In a culture that loves to talk about “following the science,” I say don't follow it, chase it.

We made a huge mistake pitting religion and science against each other — as if you had to choose just one of these lenses to view the whole world through. I guess we thought that material truth discounted a spiritual truth or vice versa, but that isn’t the case. The practical study of the material world is an amazing and extremely important endeavor. It has extended our life spans and taught us what our bodies are literally made up of. But science doesn’t comfort us in death. It doesn’t fulfill our need to belong. It doesn’t provide us with the meaning for our lives.

Similarly, religion doesn’t teach us how to transplant a lung, calculate velocity, or even how to get from one place to another.

It’s like science is a knife and religion is a spoon. You don’t eat steak with a spoon and you don’t eat soup with a knife.

It’s like science is a knife and religion is a spoon. You don’t eat steak with a spoon and you don’t eat soup with a knife. If you did, you would assume the utensils are irreparably broken.

Or worse, you would wonder why such a useless utensil even exists.

If America is facing an energy crisis, we should turn to science and the material world for solutions. But if America is facing a crisis of meaning, then we must turn somewhere else. It is a tragedy when a nation belittles the collective function of faith in society, or when they refuse to examine physical realities. It leaves us with only a fork for our soup and a spoon for our steaks. The scientific method can not produce proper values, nor can the Bible teach you how to split an atom. Yet we benefit from both.

There is archeological evidence that we may have started believing in the supernatural as early as the Paleolithic period over two and a half million years ago when we buried our dead in what looks like what may have been preparation for something after death. Of course, we don’t know for sure, but from what we can study, it seems like humans have been talking about God or gods for a VERY long time.

There are evolutionary anthropologists who argue that human beings evolved for belief in God. Evolutionary biologist Bridget Alex wrote in an article in Discover Magazine that there are three distinct human traits that make humans ideal candidates for belief in god — we look for patterns, we infer intentions, and we imitate.

Let me break these down:

Patterns:

We see patterns in the cycles of life — from the sun cycles and seasons to traffic patterns and those times we say to ourselves, “I know where this is going.” We probably DO know where it’s going, because we can recognize the patterns of how it has gone before.

Infer Intentions:

In a murder trial, we rely on the jury's ability to infer what cannot be seen, based on what can. It is a miraculous thing, and we do it all the time.

Imitation:

Humans learn by imitating. We learn to walk, talk, and eat just by watching other people and repeating what they do. If you have ever had the privilege of raising a child, you know babies just imitate everyone around them, and they actually never stop imitating. It just gets more complex.

Imitation was evolutionarily beneficial because it helped us advance. We didn’t have to re-make the wheel or re-discover fire with every new human being, we could just imitate whoever already knew, and pick up where they left off. In the same vein, when we saw that our ancestors' moral code was working, we would just imitate them. We reject inherited wisdom today in exchange for “change” and “new ideas.” But to just blindly reject our ancestor's ideas without thorough examination is not only foolish, it defies the natural human trait that got us this far.

Of course, we don’t just imitate each other. We imitate God, or at least we try to. Jesus was sinless, and great men throughout have done their best to imitate the way he lived — the story of his ministry is the PERFECT imitation. Which humans naturally respond to.

Religious instinct can even be seen in our brains. There is an entire field dedicated to studying this called Neurotheology — where the scientific method is applied to study spirituality through brain scans.

The scientists checked out the brains of everyone from nuns to Sikhs and to atheists, and it turns out our brains actually respond to religious rituals like prayer and meditation. You could understand that from a secular worldview, and propose that our brains have adapted to believing in God over time. Or as a religious person, it would make sense that — if God is real — he designed our brains in a way that we can connect with him.

The neuroscientist Andrew Nerberg wrote,

“If you contemplate God long enough, something surprising happens in the brain. Neural functioning begins to change. Different circuits become activated, while others become deactivated. New dendrites are formed, new synaptic connections are made, and the brain becomes more sensitive to subtle realms of experience. Perceptions alter, beliefs begin to change, and if God has meaning for you, then God becomes neurologically real.”

Listening to Andrew in long-form, it doesn’t seem that he is proposing that faith can be explained away as a trick of the mind, rather, he is observing that the human brain responds to faith as if it's part of its job. Knowing that tells us something about who we are.

That's pretty amazing to think about.

...believing in God has played a huge role in shaping the human race for a very long time.

From our biology to our brains, believing in God has played a huge role in shaping the human race for a very long time.

But now society is becoming less and less interested in religion. Have we evolved to keep up with a lack of faith or will we be left with biological and neurological processes with nowhere to channel them?

Thinking of humans as a broader society over a long period of time, should we be worried about basically quitting God cold turkey?

I think so.

But how much religion do we need? And what is a religion anyway?

The word religion has a multitude of connotations in America today — many are negative. It’s popular among the young, hip and well-connected to shake off the dusty title of “religious” in exchange for the less tainted title of “spiritual.” But the word religious, at least as it meant in the past, may be the key to understanding the seeming chaos of modern culture.

Although some may say that America suffers from a lack of religion, I say the opposite. I say America is hyper-religious and that is becoming our downfall.

We all have VERY different experiences with the word religion — both positive and negative. You have to think of “religion” as a tool. It can be used for good, as it has; or used for evil, as it also has.

Emile Durkheim, a french sociologist who is cited as one of the principal architects of modern social science defined “religion” as:

“A unified system of beliefs and practices relative to sacred things, that is to say, things set apart and forbidden — beliefs and practices which unite in one single moral community called a Church.”

He said “church” but he wasn’t just talking about Christianity. “Church” was a kind of stand-in word for a religious community, which is a crucial part of the definition of religion itself.

There are other definitions of “religion” but I like his, so let’s use that.

For it to be a religion, it must have:

  • Things that are sacred
  • Things that you do
  • And both of those should work in conjunction to bind a community together.

That is how, even though there is no deity in Buddhism, it is considered a religion just the same as Islam or Christianity. Buddhist practices separate out the holy from the profane and create rituals based on that separation that unify a community of followers, thus it is a religion.

So with that definition of religion, I find it hard to believe that most Americans are truly not “religious” — it's just that many have not clearly identified what their religion really is.

When trying to understand America today, instead of thinking of our culture as non-religious–think of it as hyper-religious. As if religious inclinations are seeping into part of our society. In many ways, America suffers from religious inclinations behaving like trains off the track. The culture minimized traditional religion without accounting for the religious instinct. Now, that instinct spills into everything. It has nowhere else to go. Politics is a religion, race is religion, gender is religion, whether you vax and mask is a religion—religion is EVERYWHERE. If you consider every movement and every political belief as a religious struggle, it will help you understand why we seem to be behaving so irrationally.

Jordan Peterson says that ideologies function as crippled religions — they have the same kind of power but not the level of symbolic complexity. The ideas haven’t been tested and refined across time, so they usually aren’t as good. But they are still very powerful. There are ideologies in the United States that have taken a religious place in our culture.

So if we are religious, who is our “god?”

“God” could be money, politics, fame, social justice or anything that consumes your focus. Whatever wakes you up in the morning and keeps you awake at night, that’s likely your “god.”

In that way, it isn’t that modern America is godless, it is that we don’t know, or at least haven’t named, which god we serve.

If you don’t know which god you serve, or which religion you follow, it isn’t because you aren’t participating in that ancient, evolved human practice. It just means you aren’t really in control of it, which makes you vulnerable to a religion, or a “god” that is malevolent.

Emile Durkheim thought that religion was eternal, but the form it took may change over time — that human beings' religious instincts may be channeled in wholly new directions from one generation to the next. The old “gods'' would die, and new “gods” would take their place.

Reminder: this is “god” in air quotes — "god" as the object of your worship. You can make any person, place, thing, or idea, a “god” for you, and Durkheim noted that THAT “god” could change from generation to generation

So if the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob was America’s God during our founding generation, who IS America’s “god” now?

In the Bible, there is a recurring false god in the Hebrew's neighboring lands named Baal, who just may be America’s “god” — at least in a conceptual way…

You may hear the word “Baal” and think of an ancient pagan deity, and in many ways, you're right. But the word Baal itself is not only describing a single god but a pattern of belief. In fact, there are multiple documented “baals''.” It is best to think of baal as a representation of idolatry, with multiple subcategories falling underneath it.

Idolatry means worshiping the wrong God, which is another way to say you’re devoted to the wrong principles, basing your life on a lie, or having your priorities out of whack. It’s going the wrong way, missing the mark, and aiming in the wrong direction.

Baal is a Hebrew word that basically means “owner” or “master.” It implies complete ownership in a very strong sense.

Baal is a Hebrew word that basically means “owner” or “master.”

In Hebrew, not only do the words have meanings, the letters within the words also have meanings — they create a word picture. Also, very important words have the opposite meaning if you read them backward.

It’s as if G-O-O-D meant good and D-O-O-G meant evil, but English isn’t quite as complex in that way.

Since the Hebrew alphabet has no vowels, the letters that comprise the word “ba’al” are the consonants bet and lamed.

We will call them “B” and “L”

So the opposite of Baal — “B L” is “L B”, which is the Hebrew word that essentially means “whole heart.”

The word Baal — “B L” means the exact opposite. It is the opposite of “all heart.” It is valueless and nihilistic. The word ba’al is describing a belief system that says “I am the center of a valueless existence.” That is the picture the word is painting; and that mental framework, or belief system, is being baked into our culture.

Our modern pitfall is believing, or acting as if we believe, that each of us is the god of a world without meaning — a world where there is no truth beyond our personal experience. A world without real value outside of where each of us personally assigns it. Each of us is encouraged to be the god of a meaningless reality.

We are increasingly embracing a subjective understanding of truth, goodness, and beauty. We war with each other like the gods of ancient myths. We determine the value of beliefs by force and coercion. Because we believe there is no objective truth, beauty, or goodness, our values are determined by a court of public opinion, rather than given to us by God, or even inherited from the wisdom of the past.

The court of public opinion is an unbridled and emotionally volatile democracy. It doesn’t matter what the facts of a case are. Truth is not the point. Truth is subjective, thus dead, but “my truth” is worth defending to the death. That is why misgendering someone is described now as violence, because it is an attack on the only real meaning left in the world--which, according to our culture, is what I decide is meaningful. That is how the spirit of idolatry — the spirit of baal is manifesting today.

This new way we look at the world is spiritual, not material. It’s religious, or else it’s insanity.

When someone is driving alone in their car with a mask on, this is no longer a decision based on logic, but on faith.

When a man declares himself a woman, and the culture clamors to affirm him, that isn’t science, that has no material justification, it is faith.

When someone is driving alone in their car with a mask on, this is no longer a decision based on logic, but on faith.

When it is widely accepted and repeated that racism is the connective tissue of modern American society, without requiring the facts to back this claim up, then what we are dealing with is a strongly held system of beliefs — a religion.

When the abortion debate no longer centers on the question “Is the baby alive?” but instead degrades into a discussion of the relative VALUE of that baby's life in comparison to the burden of the mother, then we know our culture has given itself over to value-less (God-less) understanding of the world. Or worse, we see ourselves as god.

The battle of our time is spiritual, not material. It’s a battle of beliefs.

As we devolve into a culture that accepts each of us as a kind of demi-god of our own reality, how could the entire foundation of our nation not fracture at the seams?

Society is fracturing over the most central problem: Who do we serve?

Catch up with the rest of the "Who Is America's God Now?" series here:

This post is part of a series by Glenn and Mikayla G. Hedrick exploring Who is America's God now?

EXPOSED: Why Eisenhower warned us about endless wars

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Donald Trump emphasizes peace through strength, reminding the world that the United States is willing to fight to win. That’s beyond ‘defense.’

President Donald Trump made headlines this week by signaling a rebrand of the Defense Department — restoring its original name, the Department of War.

At first, I was skeptical. “Defense” suggests restraint, a principle I consider vital to U.S. foreign policy. “War” suggests aggression. But for the first 158 years of the republic, that was the honest name: the Department of War.

A Department of War recognizes the truth: The military exists to fight and, if necessary, to win decisively.

The founders never intended a permanent standing army. When conflict came — the Revolution, the War of 1812, the trenches of France, the beaches of Normandy — the nation called men to arms, fought, and then sent them home. Each campaign was temporary, targeted, and necessary.

From ‘war’ to ‘military-industrial complex’

Everything changed in 1947. President Harry Truman — facing the new reality of nuclear weapons, global tension, and two world wars within 20 years — established a full-time military and rebranded the Department of War as the Department of Defense. Americans resisted; we had never wanted a permanent army. But Truman convinced the country it was necessary.

Was the name change an early form of political correctness? A way to soften America’s image as a global aggressor? Or was it simply practical? Regardless, the move created a permanent, professional military. But it also set the stage for something Truman’s successor, President Dwight “Ike” Eisenhower, famously warned about: the military-industrial complex.

Ike, the five-star general who commanded Allied forces in World War II and stormed Normandy, delivered a harrowing warning during his farewell address: The military-industrial complex would grow powerful. Left unchecked, it could influence policy and push the nation toward unnecessary wars.

And that’s exactly what happened. The Department of Defense, with its full-time and permanent army, began spending like there was no tomorrow. Weapons were developed, deployed, and sometimes used simply to justify their existence.

Peace through strength

When Donald Trump said this week, “I don’t want to be defense only. We want defense, but we want offense too,” some people freaked out. They called him a warmonger. He isn’t. Trump is channeling a principle older than him: peace through strength. Ronald Reagan preached it; Trump is taking it a step further.

Just this week, Trump also suggested limiting nuclear missiles — hardly the considerations of a warmonger — echoing Reagan, who wanted to remove missiles from silos while keeping them deployable on planes.

The seemingly contradictory move of Trump calling for a Department of War sends a clear message: He wants Americans to recognize that our military exists not just for defense, but to project power when necessary.

Trump has pointed to something critically important: The best way to prevent war is to have a leader who knows exactly who he is and what he will do. Trump signals strength, deterrence, and resolve. You want to negotiate? Great. You don’t? Then we’ll finish the fight decisively.

That’s why the world listens to us. That’s why nations come to the table — not because Trump is reckless, but because he means what he says and says what he means. Peace under weakness invites aggression. Peace under strength commands respect.

Trump is the most anti-war president we’ve had since Jimmy Carter. But unlike Carter, Trump isn’t weak. Carter’s indecision emboldened enemies and made the world less safe. Trump’s strength makes the country stronger. He believes in peace as much as any president. But he knows peace requires readiness for war.

Names matter

When we think of “defense,” we imagine cybersecurity, spy programs, and missile shields. But when we think of “war,” we recall its harsh reality: death, destruction, and national survival. Trump is reminding us what the Department of Defense is really for: war. Not nation-building, not diplomacy disguised as military action, not endless training missions. War — full stop.

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Names matter. Words matter. They shape identity and character. A Department of Defense implies passivity, a posture of reaction. A Department of War recognizes the truth: The military exists to fight and, if necessary, to win decisively.

So yes, I’ve changed my mind. I’m for the rebranding to the Department of War. It shows strength to the world. It reminds Americans, internally and externally, of the reality we face. The Department of Defense can no longer be a euphemism. Our military exists for war — not without deterrence, but not without strength either. And we need to stop deluding ourselves.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Unveiling the Deep State: From surveillance to censorship

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From surveillance abuse to censorship, the deep state used state power and private institutions to suppress dissent and influence two US elections.

The term “deep state” has long been dismissed as the province of cranks and conspiracists. But the recent declassification of two critical documents — the Durham annex, released by Sen. Chuck Grassley (R-Iowa), and a report publicized by Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard — has rendered further denial untenable.

These documents lay bare the structure and function of a bureaucratic, semi-autonomous network of agencies, contractors, nonprofits, and media entities that together constitute a parallel government operating alongside — and at times in opposition to — the duly elected one.

The ‘deep state’ is a self-reinforcing institutional machine — a decentralized, global bureaucracy whose members share ideological alignment.

The disclosures do not merely recount past abuses; they offer a schematic of how modern influence operations are conceived, coordinated, and deployed across domestic and international domains.

What they reveal is not a rogue element operating in secret, but a systematized apparatus capable of shaping elections, suppressing dissent, and laundering narratives through a transnational network of intelligence, academia, media, and philanthropic institutions.

Narrative engineering from the top

According to Gabbard’s report, a pivotal moment occurred on December 9, 2016, when the Obama White House convened its national security leadership in the Situation Room. Attendees included CIA Director John Brennan, Director of National Intelligence James Clapper, National Security Agency Director Michael Rogers, FBI Deputy Director Andrew McCabe, Attorney General Loretta Lynch, Secretary of State John Kerry, and others.

During this meeting, the consensus view up to that point — that Russia had not manipulated the election outcome — was subordinated to new instructions.

The record states plainly: The intelligence community was directed to prepare an assessment “per the President’s request” that would frame Russia as the aggressor and then-presidential candidate Donald Trump as its preferred candidate. Notably absent was any claim that new intelligence had emerged. The motivation was political, not evidentiary.

This maneuver became the foundation for the now-discredited 2017 intelligence community assessment on Russian election interference. From that point on, U.S. intelligence agencies became not neutral evaluators of fact but active participants in constructing a public narrative designed to delegitimize the incoming administration.

Institutional and media coordination

The ODNI report and the Durham annex jointly describe a feedback loop in which intelligence is laundered through think tanks and nongovernmental organizations, then cited by media outlets as “independent verification.” At the center of this loop are agencies like the CIA, FBI, and ODNI; law firms such as Perkins Coie; and NGOs such as the Open Society Foundations.

According to the Durham annex, think tanks including the Atlantic Council, the Carnegie Endowment, and the Center for a New American Security were allegedly informed of Clinton’s 2016 plan to link Trump to Russia. These institutions, operating under the veneer of academic independence, helped diffuse the narrative into public discourse.

Media coordination was not incidental. On the very day of the aforementioned White House meeting, the Washington Post published a front-page article headlined “Obama Orders Review of Russian Hacking During Presidential Campaign” — a story that mirrored the internal shift in official narrative. The article marked the beginning of a coordinated media campaign that would amplify the Trump-Russia collusion narrative throughout the transition period.

Surveillance and suppression

Surveillance, once limited to foreign intelligence operations, was turned inward through the abuse of FISA warrants. The Steele dossier — funded by the Clinton campaign via Perkins Coie and Fusion GPS — served as the basis for wiretaps on Trump affiliates, despite being unverified and partially discredited. The FBI even altered emails to facilitate the warrants.

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This capacity for internal subversion reappeared in 2020, when 51 former intelligence officials signed a letter labeling the Hunter Biden laptop story as “Russian disinformation.” According to polling, 79% of Americans believed truthful coverage of the laptop could have altered the election. The suppression of that story — now confirmed as authentic — was election interference, pure and simple.

A machine, not a ‘conspiracy theory’

The deep state is a self-reinforcing institutional machine — a decentralized, global bureaucracy whose members share ideological alignment and strategic goals.

Each node — law firms, think tanks, newsrooms, federal agencies — operates with plausible deniability. But taken together, they form a matrix of influence capable of undermining electoral legitimacy and redirecting national policy without democratic input.

The ODNI report and the Durham annex mark the first crack in the firewall shielding this machine. They expose more than a political scandal buried in the past. They lay bare a living system of elite coordination — one that demands exposure, confrontation, and ultimately dismantling.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Trump's proposal explained: Ukraine's path to peace without NATO expansion

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Strategic compromise, not absolute victory, often ensures lasting stability.

When has any country been asked to give up land it won in a war? Even if a nation is at fault, the punishment must be measured.

After World War I, Germany, the main aggressor, faced harsh penalties under the Treaty of Versailles. Germans resented the restrictions, and that resentment fueled the rise of Adolf Hitler, ultimately leading to World War II. History teaches that justice for transgressions must avoid creating conditions for future conflict.

Ukraine and Russia must choose to either continue the cycle of bloodshed or make difficult compromises in pursuit of survival and stability.

Russia and Ukraine now stand at a similar crossroads. They can cling to disputed land and prolong a devastating war, or they can make concessions that might secure a lasting peace. The stakes could not be higher: Tens of thousands die each month, and the choice between endless bloodshed and negotiated stability hinges on each side’s willingness to yield.

History offers a guide. In 1967, Israel faced annihilation. Surrounded by hostile armies, the nation fought back and seized large swaths of territory from Jordan, Egypt, and Syria. Yet Israel did not seek an empire. It held only the buffer zones needed for survival and returned most of the land. Security and peace, not conquest, drove its decisions.

Peace requires concessions

Secretary of State Marco Rubio says both Russia and Ukraine will need to “get something” from a peace deal. He’s right. Israel proved that survival outweighs pride. By giving up land in exchange for recognition and an end to hostilities, it stopped the cycle of war. Egypt and Israel have not fought in more than 50 years.

Russia and Ukraine now press opposing security demands. Moscow wants a buffer to block NATO. Kyiv, scarred by invasion, seeks NATO membership — a pledge that any attack would trigger collective defense by the United States and Europe.

President Donald Trump and his allies have floated a middle path: an Article 5-style guarantee without full NATO membership. Article 5, the core of NATO’s charter, declares that an attack on one is an attack on all. For Ukraine, such a pledge would act as a powerful deterrent. For Russia, it might be more palatable than NATO expansion to its border

Andrew Harnik / Staff | Getty Images

Peace requires concessions. The human cost is staggering: U.S. estimates indicate 20,000 Russian soldiers died in a single month — nearly half the total U.S. casualties in Vietnam — and the toll on Ukrainians is also severe. To stop this bloodshed, both sides need to recognize reality on the ground, make difficult choices, and anchor negotiations in security and peace rather than pride.

Peace or bloodshed?

Both Russia and Ukraine claim deep historical grievances. Ukraine arguably has a stronger claim of injustice. But the question is not whose parchment is older or whose deed is more valid. The question is whether either side is willing to trade some land for the lives of thousands of innocent people. True security, not historical vindication, must guide the path forward.

History shows that punitive measures or rigid insistence on territorial claims can perpetuate cycles of war. Germany’s punishment after World War I contributed directly to World War II. By contrast, Israel’s willingness to cede land for security and recognition created enduring peace. Ukraine and Russia now face the same choice: Continue the cycle of bloodshed or make difficult compromises in pursuit of survival and stability.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

The loneliness epidemic: Are machines replacing human connection?

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Seniors, children, and the isolated increasingly rely on machines for conversation, risking real relationships and the emotional depth that only humans provide.

Jill Smola is 75 years old. She’s a retiree from Orlando, Florida, and she spent her life caring for the elderly. She played games, assembled puzzles, and offered company to those who otherwise would have sat alone.

Now, she sits alone herself. Her husband has died. She has a lung condition. She can’t drive. She can’t leave her home. Weeks can pass without human interaction.

Loneliness is an epidemic. And AI will not fix it. It will only dull the edges and make a diminished life tolerable.

But CBS News reports that she has a new companion. And she likes this companion more than her own daughter.

The companion? Artificial intelligence.

She spends five hours a day talking to her AI friend. They play games, do trivia, and just talk. She says she even prefers it to real people.

My first thought was simple: Stop this. We are losing our humanity.

But as I sat with the story, I realized something uncomfortable. Maybe we’ve already lost some of our humanity — not to AI, but to ourselves.

Outsourcing presence

How often do we know the right thing to do yet fail to act? We know we should visit the lonely. We know we should sit with someone in pain. We know what Jesus would do: Notice the forgotten, touch the untouchable, offer time and attention without outsourcing compassion.

Yet how often do we just … talk about it? On the radio, online, in lectures, in posts. We pontificate, and then we retreat.

I asked myself: What am I actually doing to close the distance between knowing and doing?

Human connection is messy. It’s inconvenient. It takes patience, humility, and endurance. AI doesn’t challenge you. It doesn’t interrupt your day. It doesn’t ask anything of you. Real people do. Real people make us confront our pride, our discomfort, our loneliness.

We’ve built an economy of convenience. We can have groceries delivered, movies streamed, answers instantly. But friendships — real relationships — are slow, inefficient, unpredictable. They happen in the blank spaces of life that we’ve been trained to ignore.

And now we’re replacing that inefficiency with machines.

AI provides comfort without challenge. It eliminates the risk of real intimacy. It’s an elegant coping mechanism for loneliness, but a poor substitute for life. If we’re not careful, the lonely won’t just be alone — they’ll be alone with an anesthetic, a shadow that never asks for anything, never interrupts, never makes them grow.

Reclaiming our humanity

We need to reclaim our humanity. Presence matters. Not theory. Not outrage. Action.

It starts small. Pull up a chair for someone who eats alone. Call a neighbor you haven’t spoken to in months. Visit a nursing home once a month — then once a week. Ask their names, hear their stories. Teach your children how to be present, to sit with someone in grief, without rushing to fix it.

Turn phones off at dinner. Make Sunday afternoons human time. Listen. Ask questions. Don’t post about it afterward. Make the act itself sacred.

Humility is central. We prefer machines because we can control them. Real people are inconvenient. They interrupt our narratives. They demand patience, forgiveness, and endurance. They make us confront ourselves.

A friend will challenge your self-image. A chatbot won’t.

Our homes are quieter. Our streets are emptier. Loneliness is an epidemic. And AI will not fix it. It will only dull the edges and make a diminished life tolerable.

Before we worry about how AI will reshape humanity, we must first practice humanity. It can start with 15 minutes a day of undivided attention, presence, and listening.

Change usually comes when pain finally wins. Let’s not wait for that. Let’s start now. Because real connection restores faster than any machine ever will.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.