Avoid The Shortcut

I have a colleague who struggles with communication.

He’s blunt and harsh; his words often read as condescending, arrogant, and dismissive.  This has caused more than a few interpersonal issues and, although he’s aware of the complaints, he has hitherto now found little motivation to actually change his approach.

Recently, though, he forwarded me an email he’d sent to someone that was very un-him: nuanced, eloquent, respectful.  I was pleased he’d sent it but before I could respond he sent an accompanying note: “ChatGPT.  I asked it to make my language seem more empathetic.  Pretty good, right?”

And I suppose it is pretty good, at least for the people who have been on the receiving end of some of his harsher missives.  But I fear this shortcut, this empathy shorthand via technology, will hurt him in the end—and it points to a bigger problem that threatens to cripple both society and the church.

We do this in any number of ways. The “here’s a card to fill out if you’re new” practice is a shortcut for “identifying, seeking out, and befriending new members of your congregation.” Small groups in some cases have become a shorthand for community. Fellowships can serve as a shorthand for friendships while sharing none of the characteristics.  Listening to a sermon on a book is shorthand for reading it.

Everything good takes time.

Everything. Good. Takes. Time.

I’m not sure if we actually believe this.  Culturally we certainly don’t, and haven’t since the microwave if not before. And yet researchers and scholars—and pundits and pop culture observers and spiritual leaders—point out that we lose something critical by leaning into shortcuts.  We miss out on something vital not always in terms of results, but in terms of growth and discovery.

The process is quite often the point.

Certainly, for my colleague, the ChatGPT approach will get results.  Fewer people will call him a jerk; he’ll get more things done.  But he hasn’t become more empathetic, or more engaged with people, or more understanding of life’s rich tapestry.  He’s just become better at hiding his deficiencies, cynical about the deep work of relationship-building, and better at manipulating people to his own ends.

When we do this as a church, we become flash over substance: the appearance of relationship and community over actual depth, superficial knowledge over actual depth of understanding.  We convince ourselves the growth is evidence of our success when in reality it’s a testimony to how superficial we’ve become.

It’s not wrong to want to do things faster or easier or better.  But the work of the kingdom, in particular, cannot—must not—always be fast or easy.  Authentic relationship-building takes a long time—it takes years.  Communities emerge from long-term trust and engagement, from a group of people who know and care for each other deeply.  Empathy emerges when we put in the time and effort to inhabit someone else’s perspective and their point of view.

Maybe it’s better to say it this way: a shortcut is a tacit acknowledgement that a longer process gets in the way.  That it’s a pain.  That it’s not worthwhile.

Sometimes this is true.  When I was young, the shortcut that allowed you to bypass the mountain roads near my house shaved over half an hour and bout of motion sickness off the drive.  Perhaps something scenic or lovely could be gained in the longer drive, but we were all willing to declare that inferior to the prospect of a timely arrival and no heaving stomachs.

But to say that the cultivation of empathy is too much of an annoyance?  That getting to know people, that deep study and learning, paying attention to who enters and exits our congregations, are worth passing over?  They are the entire point of the exercise.

Mostly, shortcuts can be an invitation to voracious consumerism and self-aggrandizement.  For my colleague, empathy-via-GPT has a purpose: he wants to succeed in his career, to push through more initiatives, projects, and plans, to make himself look better.  For churches, shortcuts can be a path to bigger numbers, more campuses, community renown.

But is that really what we want, or should honor?

We just have to be careful, that’s all.  We already live in a culture that prizes expedience, convenience, self-satisfaction and personal desire.  To live by way of the shortcut exacerbates all of these things, and sweeps tidily away the processes that require us to do the work of God, that require patience and investment and consideration and effort and love.

Holy work takes time.  Don’t let yourself believe otherwise.