AI Will Revolutionize How We Learn
Searching for Truth in the Age of AI
TL;DR
A seismic change is underway in how we find information. Industry forecasts predict that by 2028, large language model (LLM) search (think ChatGPT-style, conversational answers) will drive nearly three-quarters of all search-related revenue, possibly overtaking Google. This shift matters far beyond tech or marketing. Whoever shapes how we search inevitably shapes how we think.
Traditional search engines like Google functioned like massive libraries: you searched, browsed, compared, and formed your own judgment. LLM search is different. It doesn’t just point you to sources; it interprets and synthesizes them into a single, smooth answer. It feels authoritative—but it’s built on probability models, not infallibility.
For Catholics, truth is not simply correct information but a reality grounded in God’s revelation and safeguarded by the Church. In biblical thought, truth is covenantal; it rests on trust in God and the authority He established. This means that when we search for answers in the age of AI, our trust must remain in the Logos, not the algorithm.
We need a new spiritual discipline: digital discernment. Test AI-generated answers against Scripture, Tradition, and credible sources. Recognize that even the most polished response can carry bias or error. The Church’s mission is to preserve universal truth in an age of personalized answers, and that means proclaiming Christ with clarity, teaching the faithful how to recognize truth, and using these tools ethically without letting them replace embodied, sacramental community.
AI is not to be feared but stewarded. It can serve evangelization if governed by faith. But in the end, the search for truth finds its fulfillment not in a clever answer but in communion with the living God. The Good Shepherd still speaks, and our task is to recognize His voice amid the noise.
The way humanity seeks knowledge is shifting before our eyes. This week, industry analysts released projections that within three years, large language model (LLM) search engines, systems like ChatGPT’s search, Perplexity, and similar platforms, will account for nearly three-quarters of all search-related revenue, potentially surpassing Google’s long-standing dominance. This is not a trivial change in internet trends; it is a civilizational inflection point. In the digital age, the architecture of search is the architecture of thought, and whoever shapes the former inevitably shapes the latter.
For the past quarter-century, search engines have functioned like vast card catalogs in a universal library. They indexed, ranked, and retrieved pages according to algorithms built on link structures, keyword density, and page authority. This system required a certain kind of intellectual labor: the user sifted, compared, and interpreted, often traveling from one source to another, piecing together truth through a process that, while imperfect, demanded active engagement. In many ways, it mirrored the old discipline of study: you asked a question, consulted many voices, and judged their credibility.
The new wave of LLM-driven search changes this dynamic profoundly. These models do not simply retrieve information, they interpret, synthesize, and deliver it conversationally. They fuse countless sources into a single, fluid answer, one that feels authoritative because it is complete. The result is less like visiting a library and more like sitting with a very knowledgeable interlocutor who answers in full sentences, already digested and smoothed for consumption. The act of searching becomes intimate, even relational. And therein lies both the promise and the peril.
For Catholics, whose epistemology is rooted in the marriage of faith and reason, this transition poses a question not just of technology, but of theology: How will we remain covenantally faithful to Truth Himself when “truth” is increasingly mediated through probabilistic machines that reflect the biases, omissions, and fractures of human knowledge? Our tradition has always insisted that truth is not merely the accurate arrangement of facts, but the unveiling of reality as God sees it. In biblical thought, truth is covenantal, it is bound to a relationship of trust between God and His people, and it is safeguarded by divinely instituted authority. At Sinai, God revealed His law to Israel not as a set of data points, but as a living charter for life with Him. In Christ, the New Covenant fulfills this revelation, and the Church is entrusted to “guard the good deposit” (2 Timothy 1:14).
When Christians engage with new tools for finding information, this covenantal framework must guide us. The act of searching cannot be reduced to mere efficiency. It is a moral act, because it involves trust: trust in the sources, trust in the synthesis, trust in the interpreter. In the age of LLMs, we must be clear that our ultimate trust belongs not to an algorithm but to the Logos, the eternal Word made flesh.
This means cultivating a discipline that, in another context, we might call digital discernment. Just as we test spirits to see if they are from God (1 John 4:1), so too must we test the claims generated by AI. This testing is not suspicion for suspicion’s sake, it is the vigilance of a people who know that truth can be mixed with error, that even the most elegant prose can conceal a hollow core. It requires that we check AI-generated answers against primary sources, weigh them against the teaching of the Church, and remember that the world’s most persuasive “facts” are useless if they are divorced from the moral order God has established.
The challenge is compounded by the generational shift in information habits. Recent surveys show that a vast majority of Gen Z now turns to AI tools to interpret the news rather than reading or watching traditional media. On one level, this reflects a hunger for agency, they want answers tailored to their exact query, not pre-packaged narratives. On another, it signals a fragmentation of shared epistemic foundations. When every person’s question yields a unique, AI-generated synthesis, the common ground on which civil discourse rests grows smaller. If truth becomes atomized into a million personalized streams, the public square risks becoming a marketplace of mutually unintelligible monologues.
Here the Church’s task is urgent. In an age where answers come personalized, the Church must preserve the universality of the Truth. She must continue to proclaim doctrines not as one opinion among many, but as reality itself, grounded in divine revelation, accessible to reason, and entrusted to her by Christ. This will require us to speak with clarity and without apology. It will require catechesis that not only communicates doctrine but also forms the faithful in how to recognize truth amid a flood of plausible half-truths. It will require homilies and apologetics that address the questions people actually bring to AI, but with the fullness of the Gospel rather than the shallowness of consensus.
This also means that the Church cannot shun these tools. To retreat into a romanticized pre-digital posture is to cede the future. The printing press, for all its dangers, was embraced by the reformers and counter-reformers alike because it could multiply the reach of the word. The same principle applies here. AI, used prudently and under the rule of faith, can help prepare sermons, teach catechism, answer evangelistic questions, and even aid in pastoral research. But it must always be the servant, never the master.
At the same time, the embodied community of the Church will become all the more vital. The more our informational diet becomes personalized through AI, the more we need the Eucharistic assembly, where truth is not mediated through an algorithm but through sacrament, proclamation, and fellowship. The Mass reminds us that truth is not merely something we know but Someone we encounter, that the search for truth finds its fulfillment not in a well-phrased answer, but in communion with the living God.
The deeper invitation here is to renew our covenant with truth. This is not a pledge to always be right, but to always be faithful, to love truth enough to seek it, submit to it, and defend it even when inconvenient. The people of Israel were called to live by every word that came from the mouth of God, not merely to know it. The Church inherits that same calling in Christ. In the age of LLMs, that calling means refusing to outsource discernment, resisting the temptation to accept plausibility in place of certainty, and remembering that the light of truth shines brightest when it is grounded in the Word who became flesh.
We do not need to fear the post-Google era. We need to enter it as we enter any new epoch: with courage rooted in Christ, humility before the mystery of truth, and vigilance against error. The tools will change; the call will not. The Good Shepherd still leads His sheep, and His voice still cuts through the noise. The question is whether we will recognize it amid the chorus of algorithmic answers. And that is a question no AI can answer for us.