It happened gradually.
At first, AI was auto-completing a single line of code for me. Then it could write a short function. Then I could get it to handle larger but still tightly scoped pieces – usually in a single file, and often riddled with bugs I'd have to work through. Helpful, but limited.
Fast forward a number of dev cycles. One day, I asked it to build an entire feature, in the same style as my existing codebase, and it did. Clean. Functional. Largely bug-free.
I sat back in my chair and thought: I used to spend weeks on that.
In my work as a Chief Innovation Officer I spend a good deal of time building software and digital experiences. And now, AI has fundamentally changed how I do my job. I used to write all the code. Now I often orchestrate AI that writes much, most, or even all of it depending on the context. What once took weeks can take hours. What once required an entire sprint can happen in an afternoon.
In Post 1, I asked the question from a distance: What does it mean to be human when machines can do what we do? Now I'm asking it from the inside. It’s no longer a thought experiment. It’s a daily reality in my own work. Whether it’s hit your role this deep yet or not, this is unavoidable.
And the question gets sharper when it's personal: If the machine can do what I used to do, what is my work actually for?
The Task Changed. The Calling Didn't.#
Before we panic, it's worth remembering that we've been here before.
The industrial revolution automated physical labor that had defined human work for centuries – and the crisis felt existential then too. Cars replaced horses, but they didn't replace the human need to go somewhere with purpose. We rarely do math by hand anymore – calculators and spreadsheets handle that. I didn't write my book with pen and paper. I used a word processor in the cloud first and more advanced tools later. At every stage, the tools changed the task. None of them replaced the humanity behind it.
AI is the latest, most powerful tool in that line. And like every tool before it, it changes the task. What it cannot change is the calling.
Here's the distinction: a task is something that needs to get done. A calling is the reason you're the one doing it. Tasks are defined by what. Callings are defined by who and why. And not just any "why." AI can generate a strategic rationale for a course of action. It can analyze, recommend, and justify. But a calling isn't a rationale. It's a purpose rooted in relationship with God, oriented toward His purposes, and accountable to Him. That's a different category entirely.
When I look at my innovation work now, even with AI handling so much of the code, I'm still building experiences that serve real people's needs. I'm still solving problems that require understanding the human on the other end. I'm still cultivating and creating, which is exactly what Image-bearers were commissioned to do in Genesis 1. The task has transformed. The calling hasn't moved
Calling in the Wild#
This isn't just my story. It's starting to play out across every vocation – even those that aren’t technology or white collar roles.
The nurse. AI can monitor vitals, flag anomalies, and suggest treatment protocols. Those are tasks. Important tasks, but tasks nonetheless. But the nurse who filters those AI suggestions through years of clinical training, whose hands do the bandaging, whose judgment determines what the data actually means for this patient — the nurse who then sits with a dying patient, reads the family's body language, and knows when to speak and when to stay quiet — that's a calling. Her expertise and compassion are woven together, both reflecting God's healing nature. The task is what the hospital hired her for. The calling is what God designed her for.
The software developer. AI can write code faster than any human. It can debug, optimize, and generate entire applications. But the developer who asks "should we build this?" before "can we build this?", who considers the human impact, who brings discernment about what technology should exist in the world – that's not task execution. That's stewardship. And stewardship requires the kind of wisdom that flows from relationship with the God whose creation you're shaping as we talked about in Post 3.
The chef. AI can theorize recipes, optimize nutrition, and manage inventory. But it can't taste the combination of ingredients and adjust – that physical feedback loop of tongue, memory, and intuition is embodiment in action. And the chef who prepares a meal for a hungry family in need, who finds genuine joy in the act of feeding people, who understands that nourishment is one of the most fundamental human needs — that chef is doing something an algorithm can't touch. Feeding someone isn't just a task. It's hospitality. It's care. Scripture is full of meals that mattered, and none of them were optimized for efficiency. They were prepared with love, shared in community, and offered with joy.
In every vocation, there's a layer AI can reach and a layer it can't. The layer it can't reach is the calling underneath the task: the who and the why that only an Image-bearer can carry.
Be Fruitful — Not Just Productive#
Post 2 established that God declared humans tob meod – very good – before they had produced anything, and then commanded fruitfulness. The declaration preceded the commission. Value before output.
But there's another dimension to fruitfulness that goes beyond output entirely. The Creation mandate — "Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it" (Genesis 1:28) — wasn't a productivity target. It was a vocational commissioning: steward, cultivate, fill, bless. And embedded in that commission is something the productivity framework always misses.
Fruitfulness isn't just about what your work produces. It's about what God does through your work. Paul put it plainly: "I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth" (1 Corinthians 3:6). You do your part faithfully. God brings the fruit. That's not passive. It's partnership. The kind that requires abiding in the vine, as Jesus described it – staying connected to the Source from whom all genuine fruitfulness flows.
And when you work from that connection, something remarkable happens. Your work becomes a window through which others glimpse the Creator – His care, His creativity, His love. You don't just complete tasks. You represent the King. You point people toward something greater than the output itself.
This is the royal priesthood in action. Not just doing work that matters, but doing work in a way that reflects the God whose image you carry. A calling pursued faithfully, even when AI handles much of the task execution, can bear fruit in ways no productivity metric will ever measure. Not because of the volume of its output, but because of the One it represents and the love it radiates.
The Gift in the Disruption#
Here's what I've come to believe: AI strips away what was never the point — the task as identity — and leaves you face to face with what always was. The calling underneath.
That's uncomfortable. Post 2 confessed how deeply productivity-as-identity runs in me. Losing the task feels like losing yourself until you realize the task was never the core of who you were. Your calling was. And your calling is still there, waiting for you to step into it more fully.
Remember the royal statues from Post 3? In the Ancient Near East, a statue didn't represent the king because of what it did. It represented the king because of who placed it there and what it was authorized to convey. Your work represents God, not because of the efficiency of your output, but because of the Source you're connected to, and the purpose you carry.
AI may change how you work. It cannot change whose representative you are.
The disruption isn't the threat. Building your identity on the task was. AI just made that visible. And now that it's visible, you have a choice: keep competing with the machine on its terms, or step into the calling that was always yours.
This is Post 5 in the "Being Human in the Age of AI" series. Next up: "The God Who Chose Not to Automate" — where we'll discover that God's own approach to work reveals something profound about His character and your value.
If you missed it, start with Post 1: "The Machine That Made Us Ask the Right Question"
Your calling looks different from everyone else's. Discover how you uniquely reflect what it means to be human — take the Imago Assessment.