It’s been a fun week for artificial intelligence, with the appearance of the Twitter page “Weird Dall-E Generations” showing off art created by an AI in response to surreal prompts:
AI text generation has recently gotten quite good, with the GPT-3 model creating text that at times seems almost human. So I spent part of this afternoon exploring what GPT-3 might say if it wrote for my blog: I “prompted” the engine with my own content, and let it fill in the rest as it pleased.
Much like the Dall-E pictures, GPT-3’s writing is a surreal combination of compelling-sounding content and strange inconsistencies (occasionally the rhyme scheme or rhythm scheme of poems disappears for a stanza or two, its prose regularly contradicts itself, sometimes it repeats the same sentence a zillion times in a row.) Some of its individual stanzas and sentences are way better than my own writing, and I’m a little offended by that.
I picked my favorites from the model’s outputs, so this isn’t a representative sample or anything like that. But I’m definitely more concerned than I was before that this kind of technology will be implemented soon (or already has been) to add to the problem of internet disinformation and trolling.
Anything in italics is my prompt to GPT-3 — the rest is its own writing, attempting to “complete” what I’ve given it in a reasonable way. I also gave it the chance to add anything it wanted to this introduction, and it wrote:
“I am a bot, please don’t hurt me.”
Anyway, here’s how a robot would write my blog:
I. Poetry
Prehistoric, from Some Poems, Take 1
my therapist says it’s a fight or flight response
hardwired by evolution
to keep us safe
but I don’t think that’s it
I think it’s just me
being me
and not knowing how to be any other way
Prehistoric, from Some Poems, Take 2
my therapist says it’s a fight or flight response
hardwired by evolution
to keep us safe
but i’m not sure
if that’s entirely accurate
because i don’t feel like i’m running away from anything
i feel like i’m running towards something
something that i can’t quite see yet
but it’s out there somewhere
waiting for me to find it
Prehistoric, from Some Poems, Take 3
my therapist says it’s a fight or flight response
hardwired by evolution
i guess that means my ancestors
fought mammoths and sabre-toothed tigers
with uncontrollable shaking
painful anxious nothings
breaths too quick to feel
in a fetal, shuddering mess
i am the product
of their fear and trembling
but i am also the product
of their courage and strength
i am the product of a long line
of survivors
and i will survive this too
Crown of Thorns, from A Hymn and a Poem
They gave my Lord a crown of thorns
A mockery of praise
And as they spat they called him king
In cold, contemptuous gaze
Could they not see this broken man
They scorned was heaven sent?
“Messiah!” chants the taunting crowd
More truly than they meant
And as my Lord was led away
To die a cruel death
I could not help but wonder why
This world is so bereft
But then I see my Savior’s face
And in his eyes I find
The love that breaks through all our hate
And makes us all divine
Crown of Thorns take 2: (w/ longer prompt)
They gave my Lord a crown of thorns
A mockery of praise
And as they spat they called him king
In cold, contemptuous gaze
Could they not see this broken man
They scorned was heaven sent?
“Messiah!” chants the taunting crowd
More truly than they meant
From far away in time and space
I think “Such fools were wrong.
I’ll make my Lord a crown of gold
In worship, works, and song.”
Yet barbs intrude upon the good
For I am frail and small
And though I ought to know His worth
I give Him not my all
Prayers I said but never meant
And love with motives hid
Words I didn’t know would sting
(And some perhaps I did)
In what was nice I sought my gain
My pride oblation marred.
By flesh defiled, cries ignored
This offered gift is charred.
He knows the thorns that pierce my crown
Though often they are self-made
And though I am not what I should
I know He still won’t trade
The crown of thorns for one of gold
For love is what He came
And love is what He asks of me
The love that knows no shame
The love that’s not afraid to bleed
The love that dares to die
This is the love my Lord requires
If I am to be His bride
In which GPT-3 takes my depression poetry very seriously
“Am I really even depressed?”
I ask the pillow I’ve been staring at for three-and-a-half hours.
The answer, of course, is that I don't know. Only a professional can give you a definitive answer to whether or not you are depressed. However, there are some signs and symptoms of depression that you can look out for. These include feeling persistently sad or down, loss of interest in activities you used to enjoy, sleeping too much or too little, feeling tired all the time, having difficulty concentrating, feeling restless or irritable, and experiencing changes in your appetite. If you are experiencing any of these symptoms, it is worth seeking professional help to see if you are indeed depressed.
My favorite poem that my Grandmother wrote before she passed away. (We talked a lot about weird art-technology mashups, so I’m pretty sure she approves of this)
I am falling in love again
so soon so long
in love with this world
with its beauty
its sun
its healing rain
its novelty
its surprises
its shallow depths
its deep firm sand
(that place where a boy
with his bare feet
once trampled
I love you)
This morning I thought of
rain and its place
the need of thirsting plants
the depth of their roots
the depth of my roots;
my children, earth’s trees
All of it again, dear one,
in love again.
maybe this time
it will last forever.
maybe this time
I will never leave.
But I know that’s not true.
I know that I will go.
I know that you will too.
But for now, my love,
for now,
we are here
together
in this moment
in this rain.
II. Prose
On the church and mental illness: I prompted GPT-3 with the first few paragraphs of Why is the Church So Bad At Talking About Mental Health?
There are the people who say that depression is a choice, or that it’s a sign of spiritual weakness, or that it’s just a matter of “pushing through.” There are the people who think that if you just have enough faith, you’ll be cured. There are the people who think that therapy is a waste of time and money and that we should just read our bibles more.
All of these ideas hurt me and my friends who suffer from mental illness. But I am not writing this post to criticize these people — I am writing this post to ask for your help in changing the conversation.
I want to talk about how much I love Jesus and how much he loves me, even when I am depressed. I want to talk about how God can use my depression to help me grow closer to him and how he uses my depression to help me serve others. I want to talk about how God has given me the strength to get out of bed in the morning, even on days when I feel like the darkness will never end.
I want to talk about how God can use my depression to help me grow closer to him and how he uses my depression to help me serve others.
I want to talk about how much Jesus loves people with mental illness, even when they don’t have enough faith in him and even when they don’t love him back. I want to talk about how much Jesus loves me even on days when I don’t love him back, and how he never gives up on me no matter what happens.
I want you to know that God isn’t mad at you for being depressed, and that he isn’t disappointed with you for not being able to fix it on your own. He isn’t going to take away your depression if you just pray hard enough or read your bible more or go on more mission trips or give more money away or do anything else that makes you feel guilty for not being able to do right now. He loves you exactly as you are right now, even if you feel like you can’t love him back right now.
I want you to know that God isn’t mad at you for being depressed, and that he isn’t disappointed with you for not being able to fix it on your own.
I want us all — myself included — to learn how we can support our friends with mental illness without making things worse instead of better. I want us all — myself included — to learn how we can have honest conversations about mental illness without making our friends feel guilty or ashamed or like they need to hide what they’re going through from us for fear of judgement or rejection. And I especially want us all — myself included — not only learn these things but put them into practice in our everyday lives so we can create a church culture where people with mental illness feel welcomed and loved instead of ignored or rejected or made fun of because we don’t know what else to do with them.
I don’t have all the answers to these questions, but I am willing to learn. I am willing to change the way I think and talk about mental illness. And if you are too, then let’s do this together.
I prompted GPT-3 with an excerpt from a play I’m writing, and it wrote an entirely new backstory for Charissa:
CHARISSA
You told me you were a therapist.
EMILY
Yes.
CHARISSA
And I took that to mean, like, a real-life therapist. Cognitive behavioral therapy and a nice couch and all that.
EMILY
(Suddenly alert.)
Did you, like, stalk me?
CHARISSA
I’m a historian. I know how to use the internet.
EMILY
You don’t know my last name.
CHARISSA
I saw it on your credit card.
EMILY
I am not having fun anymore.
CHARISSA
I really want you to be. And I want to be. But I googled you because I have trust issues I guess and I don’t know what therapy sites normally look like but Freedom in Christ Counseling? The offshoot of Eleventh Baptist?
EMILY
I know. It’s not ideal. I needed a job.
CHARISSA
Yesterday Pastor Brad tweeted, and I quote, “Medication is for pussies. Recover biblical manhood for true healing.”
EMILY
Obviously I don’t agree with that. I’m Episcopalian. I trained in secular schools. But I think it’s possible to do good in all sorts of institutions ---
CHARISSA
(Suddenly)
I grew up in Eleventh Baptist.
EMILY
Oh.
CHARISSA
I was homeschooled by my mom until I was thirteen and then I went to the Christian Academy for a year and then I was sent away to a Christian boarding school for my junior and senior year.
EMILY
Oh, wow.
CHARISSA
I mean, it wasn’t that bad. I made some friends. But it was very strict. No TV, no movies, no music except Christian music, no dating, no dancing, no drinking, no drugs. And the worst part was the therapy.
EMILY
What do you mean?
CHARISSA
The school had this program where if you were having any kind of “struggle” --- which could be anything from being gay to just being sad --- they would send you to this therapist who would try to “cure” you.
EMILY
That sounds awful.
CHARISSA
Yeah. It was. I mean, I was never actually sent to her. But some of my friends were, and they would come back and tell me what happened. And it was always the same thing. They would go in and talk about whatever was going on with them, and she would just tell them that they were sinning and that they needed to repent and ask Jesus into their heart.
EMILY
That’s not therapy. That’s just religious indoctrination.
CHARISSA
Yeah. That’s what I thought too. But my mom and the school thought it was therapy. They thought it was helping us.
EMILY
Did it? Help, I mean?
CHARISSA
No, not really. I mean, some people found Jesus and that helped them, I guess. But for most of us, it just made things worse. We were already struggling with all these things --- our sexuality, our mental health, our identity --- and then we had this therapist telling us that we were sinners and that we needed to be fixed. It made us feel even more broken than we already felt.
EMILY
That’s terrible. I’m so sorry that happened to you.
CHARISSA
Yeah. Me too. But anyway, that’s why I googled you. Because I saw Freedom in Christ Counseling and I just assumed that you were going to be like that therapist. That you were going to try to fix me.
EMILY
I would never do that. I’m not here to fix you. I’m here to help you find your own way.
CHARISSA
I know. I’m sorry. I trust you. I do. It’s just, this is all new to me.
EMILY
It’s new to me too. I’ve never had a patient who was also a historian before.
GPT-3 Leaves its Church (prompted with the beginning of this post)
Last week I finally admitted to myself that I can’t keep doing this. I’m done.
It feels like a relief and a weight all at once. On the one hand, I feel like I can finally breathe after holding my breath for far too long. On the other hand, I know that this decision is going to cause pain for people I care about, and that knowledge is almost too much to bear.
I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know that I need to take a break from this church. I need to find a way to love and serve my community in a way that doesn’t leave me feeling like I’m being pulled apart. I need to find a way to be present with my friends in a way that doesn’t make me want to scream.
I don’t have any answers, but I do have hope. Hope that God will lead me to a community where I can dwell in His presence more fully. Hope that my friends will understand why I’m leaving and will still want to be part of my life. Hope that we can all find a way to love each other well, even when we don’t see eye to eye.
And that means hope for the future of my church, too. Hope that those who remain will find a way to love and serve each other in the midst of their differences. Hope that they will be able to see each other through rose-colored glasses, even when the red flags are waving right in front of their faces.
GPT-3 Leaves its Church, take two
But here’s the thing: I’ve been attending this church for six years now, and in that time I have not seen any significant change. The leadership has made some cosmetic changes in response to specific issues that have come up, but the overall trajectory has not changed. This church is still a place where people who disagree are not valued, where difficult conversations are not welcome, where women are not treated as full members of the body. It’s a place where the gospel is preached but not lived out, where people are welcomed but not really seen.
I’ve been attending this church for six years now, and I am tired.
I am tired of being told that my concerns are not valid, that I am being too negative, that I am not seeing the good that is happening. I am tired of being told that I am not submitting to authority, that I am not being loving, that I am not giving the benefit of the doubt. I am tired of being told that my experiences are not real, that my pain is not valid, that my voice does not matter.
I am tired of being gaslit.
For those who are not familiar with the term, gaslighting is a form of emotional abuse in which the abuser manipulates their victim into doubting their own perceptions and memories. It is a way of controlling someone by making them question their own reality, and it is incredibly damaging.
I did not use to believe that gaslighting was something that happened in churches. But over the past few years I have seen it again and again in my own church community — in the way people are treated when they speak up, in the way concerns are dismissed, in the way people are made to feel like they are crazy or overreacting or just plain wrong.
And I am tired of it.
I am tired of being told that my pain is not real, that my experiences are not valid, that my voice does not matter.
This is why I have been struggling so much with what to do about my church. Because on the one hand, I know that it is a place where many people have found community and support and love. On the other hand, I also know that it is a place where many people have been hurt — by the words that have been spoken, by the actions that have been taken, by the ways they have been made to feel invisible and unimportant and unwelcome.
And I am tired of being asked to choose between these two things. I am tired of being asked to choose between my own pain and the pain of others. I am tired of being asked to choose between my own needs and the needs of others. I am tired of being asked to choose between what is right and what is easy.
So last week I finally admitted to myself that I can no longer attend this church. It is a decision that comes with a great deal of sadness and uncertainty, but it is also a decision that feels like a relief. It feels like coming up for air after holding my breath for far too long.
It feels like hope.
GPT-3 Leaves its church, take 3 (in which it decides I’m a queer woman of color?)
But there is one thing I am certain of:
I am tired.
I am tired of being the only queer person in a room full of straight people. I am tired of being the only woman in a room full of men. I am tired of being the only person of color in a room full of white people. I am tired of being the only progressive in a room full of conservatives. I am tired of being the only person who cares about social justice in a room full of people who would rather not think about it.
I am tired of feeling like I have to be twice as good to be half as respected. I am tired of feeling like my voice doesn’t matter. I am tired of feeling like my experiences are invalid. I am tired of feeling like my pain is invisible.
I am tired of being told that my concerns are “divisive” and that I should just “get over it” and move on. I am tired of being told that my experiences are not real, or that they are not as important as other people’s. I am tired of being told that my pain is not valid, or that it is not as important as other people’s.
I am tired of being told that I need to have more patience, that change takes time, that good things come to those who wait. I am tired of being told that I need to be more understanding, more flexible, more accommodating. I am tired of being told that my standards are too high, that my expectations are unrealistic, that I should just be grateful for what I have.
I am tired of being told that my faith is not strong enough, that my love is not pure enough, that my hope is not big enough.
I am tired of being told that I am not doing enough, that I could be doing more, that I should be doing more.
I am tired of being told that I need to do better, be better, try harder.
I am just so incredibly tired.
And so last week, after months and months and months of wrestling with this issue, I finally admitted to myself what I had been avoiding all along:
I need to take a break from church.
GPT-3 on David Tuesday Adamo’s view of the bible (prompted with the first few paragraphs of this post)
The Bible as Power
In the book of Psalms, David often cries out to God for help. He asks for protection from enemies, for healing from sickness, and for success in his work. This is not unusual: many people throughout history have asked God for these things, and I myself have prayed these prayers before. What is unusual is the way David talks about God’s response to his prayers.
David writes:
“You answer me when I call; you strengthen me with your Spirit. You teach me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy, at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” - Psalm 16:8-9
David isn’t just asking God to do something. He’s claiming that God has already done it. He’s not just asking for strength, he says God has already given him strength. He’s not just asking for guidance, he says God has already taught him the path of life. This is not a passive prayer; it’s an active declaration of what David believes about who God is and what God has done.
In many Christian traditions, we don’t talk about the bible this way. We see it as a book of stories and teachings, a source of wisdom and comfort, but not as a source of power. We see prayer as a way to ask God to do something, but not as a way to declare what we believe about who God is and what God has done.
But in many non-Western contexts, the bible is seen as a source of power. It’s not just a book of stories; it’s a book of spells. It’s not just a source of wisdom; it’s a weapon to be wielded against evil spirits and enemies. This is how David Tuesday Adamo, a Nigerian theologian, understands the bible:
“The Bible is not merely a book; it is an instrument that has power…When we pray the Psalms, we are using the Bible as an instrument to engage the spiritual realm…When we pray the Psalms, we are using the Bible as an instrument to engage the spiritual realm…When we pray the Psalms, we are using the Bible as an instrument to engage the spiritual realm…When we pray the Psalms, we are using the Bible as an instrument to engage the spiritual realm…When we pray the Psalms, we are using the Bible as an instrument to engage the spiritual realm…When we pray the Psalms, we are using the Bible as an instrument to engage the spiritual realm…When we pray the Psalms, we are using the Bible as an instrument to engage the spiritual realm…When we pray the Psalms, we are using the Bible as an instrument to engage the spiritual realm…When we pray the Psalms, we are using the Bible as an instrument to engage the spiritual realm…When we pray the Psalms, we are using When we pray the Psalms, we are using When we pray When When When When When When When When When When When When When When When When When
The idea that the bible is a source of power may be foreign to us, but it’s not foreign to David. In fact, it’s central to his understanding of who God is and how God works in the world.
(I have no idea what happened there…)
GPT-3 on What’s important in Christianity, prompted with the beginning of this post
“The way to love your neighbor is to tell them about Jesus.”
“The way to take care of the poor is to give them a hot meal and tell them about Jesus.”
“The way to fight oppression is to tell people about Jesus.”
I am not trying to be glib here — I think the gospel is incredibly important, and that sharing it with others is an incredibly good thing to do. But I think that the way we’ve talked about sharing the gospel has often been used as a way of deflecting criticism or avoiding difficult conversations. It’s a way of saying “I’m not being selfish, I’m doing what’s really important!”
But what if we took the idea of “majoring on the majors” and applied it in a different way? What if we took it as an opportunity to interrogate our own assumptions, and ask ourselves whether the things we consider most important are actually the things that are most important? What if we took it as an opportunity to listen to people who have different experiences than us, and learn from them?
1. https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/majoring-on-the-majors/