A Lot of Christian Tech Criticism is Missing Three Important Things

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I joined the ranks of Christian tech critics several years ago. It started with blogging and essay writing that, over time, began to take a consistent interest in the formative effects of online technology. Eventually, that turned into my first book, and soon, it will turn into my second. I’ve been in this space now for more than half a decade. And I’m not exaggerating when I say that the growth of interest in media ecology, and the number of intelligent, convictional people participating in it, are two of the most encouraging trends in all of Christian culture.

As anybody would given enough time and attention devoted to a particular niche, I’ve noticed a few trends. The same cluster of authors tend to appear and reappear in works—Marshall McLuhan, Neil Postman, Jacques Ellul, etc.—and the same cluster of thinky, somewhat opaque vocabulary (“formation,” “attention economy,” etc.). These trends are neither good nor bad. They’re inevitable. Christian media ecology is pulling from a pretty small pool of resources, then filtering those resources through a fairly narrow theological framework. While I would encourage all of us in this space to try to illustrate our language as much as possible, rather than just repeat the correct propositions, relying on these things is exactly what you’d expect from an idea that is still maturing among most evangelicals.

But there are other trends that are a little less necessary, and a little more straightforward to fix.

Here are three things I’ve noticed that tend to be missing from a lot of Christian tech criticism.

1. A Biblical/Theological Structure

This may sound strange, so let me explain what I mean.

I don’t mean that most Christian tech criticism is lacking the mention of imago dei or Genesis 1-2. Christian tech critics have overall done a very thorough job linking fundamental theological anthropology with tech consumption.

What most Christian tech critics are not doing, however, is offering readers an interpretive approach to technology’s role in the biblical narrative. Partly this is due to an overly reductive sense of “technology.” When a lot of writers say “technology,” what they mean is modern automated technology—especially Industrial Revolution creations that can run more or less autonomously in factories. But this is not a definition of technology that works if you’re wanting to build a viable theology of technology.

For example, I’ve not seen much attention giving to the technological role that language plays in Adam’s naming of the animals. Language’s potential to help human beings cultivate and take dominion over the physical creation seems like a very relevant topic for Christian media ecology. This kind of theological work could unlock deeper senses within Scripture that would help Christians today navigate difficult questions.

Similarly, the eschatological direction of technology in the Bible’s story is significant. For example, in Isaiah, the coming of God’s kingdom and the pilgrimage of the nations to Zion to learn the ways of the Lord is marked by the repurposing of weapons into farm tools. This would seem to suggest that there is a moral shape to human technology: Some tech is fit for life in God’s presence, and some is not. How might the Bible flesh this out more completely, and what might its implications be for how we approach technology in our churches and lives?

Most Christian tech criticism I’ve seen does a good job of establishing who we are as created persons, and how our personal use of technology relates to our identity. What I’d like to see more of, though, is establishing what technology really is, and how the human race’s use of technology relates to what God is doing in history.

2. Theological Triage

Nuance is a little bit like ketchup. It’s fine in its own right, but it gets a bad rap because people tend to use it to cover up the flaws in the dish. Some writers are naturally very dry and acerbic, and could use a healthy dose of ketchup to help readers get their work down. But many writers are naturally very tomato-y; their work ends up tasting like nothing in particular.

So when I say “theological triage” here, I am not necessarily saying that most tech criticism needs to hedge more, be less assertive, or say words like “probably” or “maybe” a lot. What I mean is that more Christian tech criticism needs to show a consciousness of what Christian theology and ethics prioritize, and what they don’t.

In particular, there is a tendency to treat all questions of tech use as being integral to one another. Thus, some Christian tech critics can end up sounding as if having an AI girlfriend is basically the same as using an LLM to build your spreadsheets. I don’t think anyone actually believes this is the case. But opaque vocabulary and thin teleology tend to muddy waters.

Christian spirituality does not say that every single activity we may find ourselves doing has the exact same consequences for our souls. It’s true that menial labor can be as glorifying to God as public ministry. But it does not follow from that using a robotic technology to speed up the menial labor presents the same spiritual dilemmas as, say, having AI write your sermons, or giving robotic companions to shut-ins.

Christian tech criticism should do more theological triage, not only to accurately represent biblical teaching, but also to be more realistic about tech itself. A lot of people’s first and most frequent experiences of AI, for example, are not relational or plagiaristic, but work-related. Effectively representing Christian teaching means taking distinctions seriously. You don’t have to surrender your convictions in order to acknowledge that they may not all weigh the same.

3. Neighbor Love and Unity of the Church

Readers may recall that last year, I wrote a disappointed review of one particular book on parenting and tech that made a big splash in Christian circles. It wasn’t that I disagreed with the book’s core arguments. In fact, I found quite a bit of it very illuminating and helpful. But the author was very friendly toward the idea of families and Christians drawing very sharp, intra-community distinctions between people who are onboard with the book’s arguments, and those who aren’t.

What was missing in this treatment, and what is missing from a lot of Christian tech criticism I read, was love of neighbor. The book was not unloving. And the author would likely argue that the most loving thing we can do for each other is tell the truth and exhort each other to live accordingly. Agreed! But not every issue for Christians and technology is a clear cut matter of truth vs. lie or good vs. bad. Scripture doesn’t burden us only with the task of making the right choices for our families. It also burdens us with the task of loving our fellow Christians and doing what we can to preserve fellowship and unity.

If we’re being honest, the way evangelicals talk about parenting often fails this burden. So it’s not surprising that our tech criticism might, too. But consider this: Flunking this point undermines the whole logic of tech-realism. Tech-realism argues that embodied life with other people is more blessed, more fruitful, and more supportive of a Christian existence than a digital life. If our striving for tech-realism is marked by superiority, unnecessary ultimatums, or worst of all, a total indifference toward people not like us, we will be making the opposite point. We will be communicating that digital life and embodied life are actually very similar after all.

I’m Optimistic

Articles like this can seem like a downer. But I don’t feel that way. I’m incredibly encouraged by the state of Christian tech criticism. There is a massive difference between the way my parents’ generation was thinking about these issues (or not thinking!), and the way my generation is. This is not due to intrinsic goodness on our part. It’s due to very hard lessons learned, the skillfulness of many evangelical theologians and institutions, and of course, the foresight and thoughtfulness of writers who saw the dilemmas of our time from afar.

I hope and expect to see more of these three things in Christian media ecology. There are already examples of leadership here, from people like Alastair Roberts and O. Alan Noble. Even as digital life serves as a plausibility structure against Christianity, the mental, emotional, and relational catastrophes of digital life have made the Christian story feel more like the humane reality it is. The field is white for harvest; pray to the Lord of the harvest to send more workers.