“What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun. Is there a thing of which it is said, ‘See, this is new’? It has been already in the ages before us.” — Ecclesiastes 1:9-10
I’ve been thinking about this passage while watching the AI hype cycle spin through 2024 and into 2025 and now exploding in 2026. Every demo feels revolutionary. Every model release promises to change everything. Every startup pitch deck includes the phrase “fundamentally transforming how we…”
But Solomon had a different take. Nothing new under the sun.
This isn’t pessimism — it’s pattern recognition. And for those of us building AI-powered products, especially in faith tech, it’s the most liberating truth we can internalize.
The Completeness Trap
The dominant narrative around AI assumes we’re building toward some final state. Artificial General Intelligence (AGI). The singularity. Complete automation. Perfect personalization. The ultimate Bible study companion that knows exactly what verse you need to read today.
I see this thinking in every product roadmap meeting. “Once our recommendation engine is fully trained…” “When we achieve true personalization…” “After we solve the context problem…”
The language reveals the assumption: AI development is a completion project. We’re building toward done.
Solomon understood something we’re forgetting. Human problems don’t get solved — they get managed, generation after generation, in slightly different forms.
At Bible Gateway, we’ve watched this play out across 25+ years of digital ministry. The tools change. The core human need remains constant: people want to encounter God through Scripture, but they need help knowing where to start and how to apply what they find.
We thought search would solve discovery. Then recommendations. Then reading plans. Then AI-powered devotionals. Each iteration helps — our 23 million users prove that. But none of them completes the discipleship process.
Because there is nothing new under the sun.
What This Means for Product Strategy
Here’s what I’ve learned from building digital discipleship tools for a decade: the goal isn’t to solve the human condition. It’s to serve it faithfully, one iteration at a time.
This reframes everything:
Feature prioritization shifts from revolutionary to iterative. Instead of “How do we build the perfect sermon prep AI?” the question becomes “What’s the smallest improvement we can make to how pastors interact with Scripture this week?”
Success metrics become process-oriented, not outcome-oriented. We don’t measure whether people become better Christians. We measure whether they engage with the Bible more consistently. The spiritual formation is between them and God.
Technology roadmaps emphasize adaptation over completion. Every AI model will be replaced. Every algorithm will be superseded. The question isn’t whether your current solution is perfect — it’s whether your architecture can evolve with changing needs.
User research focuses on persistent patterns, not trending behaviors. What aspects of discipleship have remained constant across cultures and centuries? Those are your true product requirements.
The Stewardship Frame
This connects directly to what I wrote about AI stewardship and the Parable of the Talents. The servant who buried his talent wasn’t wrong because he was risk-averse. He was wrong because he treated stewardship as a preservation project instead of a multiplication project.
The same applies to AI product development. If we’re building toward some final, complete state, we’re burying our talent. We’re preserving instead of multiplying.
But if we accept Solomon’s wisdom — that human needs cycle through the same patterns across generations — then our job becomes different. We’re not building the ultimate solution. We’re building today’s faithful response to ancient needs, knowing someone else will build tomorrow’s.
This is why I’m skeptical of AI companies that promise to “solve” theological education or “revolutionize” spiritual formation. The problems they’re addressing — helping people understand complex texts, connecting abstract principles to daily life, building consistent spiritual habits — aren’t new. They’ve existed since Moses told the Israelites to bind Scripture on their foreheads and write it on their doorposts.
Good technology serves these persistent needs more effectively. It doesn’t replace them.
Practical Applications
What does this look like in practice?
For AI training: Stop trying to capture all of human theological knowledge. Focus on helping users navigate the specific questions they’re asking today. Our Bible Gateway search data shows people aren’t looking for comprehensive systematic theology — they’re looking for practical application of specific passages.
For product roadmaps: Build for the 90% use case, not the edge case that would make your product “complete.” Most people using Bible study AI want help connecting Sunday’s sermon to Monday’s decisions. They don’t need a system that can engage in doctoral-level exegesis.
For user research: Study how people have approached spiritual formation across different eras and cultures. The delivery mechanisms change, but the core challenges remain remarkably consistent. Augustine’s Confessions and a modern Bible app user’s reading plan serve the same fundamental need.
For success metrics: Measure engagement depth, not engagement breadth. Are people spending more time with individual passages? Are they asking better questions? Are they making connections between different parts of Scripture? These indicators matter more than total users or session length.
The Long View
Here’s what I find encouraging about Ecclesiastes 1:9-10: it’s not just about human limitations. It’s about human continuity.
The fact that spiritual needs persist across generations means our work has staying power. We’re not building for a moment — we’re building for a pattern that will repeat as long as humans seek meaning and connection with God.
Every generation needs help reading Scripture. Every culture needs assistance applying ancient wisdom to contemporary challenges. Every individual needs guidance building spiritual habits that stick.
The tools change. The need doesn’t.
This gives me confidence that thoughtful AI development in faith tech isn’t just timely — it’s timeless. Not because we’re building something that will last forever, but because we’re serving needs that will.
The question isn’t whether AI will transform spiritual formation. It’s whether this generation’s AI tools will serve people’s spiritual growth as faithfully as previous generations’ tools served theirs.
I think they can. But only if we remember there’s nothing new under the sun.
SERMON ILLUSTRATION
“The Ancient Algorithm”
“What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun.” — Ecclesiastes 1:9
Before we had Google, we had concordances. Before we had Bible apps, we had commentaries. Before we had AI sermon assistants, we had libraries full of systematic theology.
Solomon understood what we sometimes forget in our excitement over new technology: the tools change, but the human needs remain constant. People have always needed help understanding Scripture. They’ve always struggled to apply ancient wisdom to daily life. They’ve always sought guidance in building spiritual habits.
AI isn’t creating new spiritual needs, it’s serving ancient ones. The pastor using ChatGPT for sermon prep is doing what pastors have always done: seeking help to faithfully communicate God’s Word. The difference is speed and scale, not purpose.
This should humble us and encourage us. Humble, because we’re not creating something unprecedented. Encourage, because we’re participating in work that spans generations. Every tool that helps people engage Scripture more deeply — from Gutenberg’s printing press to today’s Bible apps — serves God’s timeless purposes through temporary means.
The question for the church isn’t whether to embrace new technology. It’s whether our use of it serves the same goals as the faithful tools that came before.
Photo by Bernd 📷 Dittrich on Unsplash