Lately, I’ve noticed how hard it has become to tell what’s real and what’s not. I’ll be scrolling through social media, looking for inspiration, and come across a photo of a beautiful home interior—only to realize it’s been so heavily altered, or even created from scratch, that I’m not sure anymore whether I’m looking at inspiration I could actually recreate, or just a digital dream. When all you want is authentic inspiration, that blurring of reality can leave you feeling unsettled.
It makes me pause. How do we live, think, and even trust when everything around us feels uncertain?
There was a time not long ago when you could take most things at face value. A photo was a photo. A song was sung by a person. A handwritten letter carried a certain weight because you knew the hand behind the pen. Now, almost everything can be enhanced, edited, or outright fabricated. Sometimes it’s convenient, even beautiful. Other times it leaves me longing for what’s true.
I find myself wondering: What is real anymore?
The Weight of a Filtered World
Filters aren’t new. For decades, advertisements have airbrushed models, movies have edited scenes, and words have been polished before reaching the public. But what we’re experiencing now is different. It’s not just enhancement—it’s replacement.
Entire people can be “created” who never existed. Voices can be cloned. Landscapes and rooms can be generated in seconds. Even our personal memories are caught up in this. The photo we post might not show the wrinkles, the dark circles, or the messy background of real life. We curate and edit so much that the raw edges of our humanity get smoothed away.
But those raw edges are where the truth often lives.
What concerns me is if we erase every flaw, every imperfection, and every sign of reality, we’ll end up with something that looks polished—but hollow, like biting into an apple that looks perfect on the outside only to find it has no flavor.
However, this is the world we’re asked to navigate daily.
A Deep Human Longing
What this all reveals to me is a deep human longing. We all want beauty, perfection, something beyond the limits of our small existence. Perhaps that’s the reason AI captivates us so much. It offers images of “better” beauty, “better” landscapes, “better” words.
But here’s the truth—our souls aren’t satisfied with something that only looks real. We hunger for something that is real. Something lasting. Something true.
And that’s where my heart always circles back to God.
In a world where everything can be faked, He can’t.
God, the Steady Reality
The times I feel overwhelmed by this digital world, I remind myself of this: God is the same yesterday, today, and forever. No computer can change Him. No filter can enhance or diminish His presence or voice.
God is not artificial. God is not generated. God is not enhanced. He simply is.
That is the most comforting reality I know.
Think about it—He was real before the internet existed, before cameras, before printing presses, before the first word was written down on parchment. He was real before humanity had any tools to manipulate reality at all. And He will still be real long after today’s technologies have come and gone.
When I pray, I’m not talking to an empty program designed to soothe me. I’m speaking with the Creator of the universe, who knows me, loves me, and has walked with me through every trial. There’s nothing artificial about that.
A World of Illusions, a God of Truth
The Bible often speaks about truth and deception, about light and darkness. In some ways, what we’re experiencing now is just a new version of an old problem. Humanity has always been tempted by illusions, by promises of something easier, prettier, or more appealing than the raw truth.
But illusions eventually crumble. They cannot sustain a soul.
That’s why the Psalms speak of God as a rock, a fortress, a refuge. Those words carry such weight in times like this. A rock does not shift with trends. A fortress cannot be fabricated. A refuge is real, solid, safe.
When everything feels fake and uncertain, I cling to that.
Learning to See Again
How do we live in this world of blurred realities and keep our hearts grounded and in tune with what is real?
I think it starts with slowing down and looking for God in the ordinary, unfiltered places. For instance, in a sunrise that no computer can duplicate, or hearing the laugh of someone you love that carries warmth no machine can possibly reproduce, or the quiet assurance in prayer that reminds you God is near.
It also means being intentional about honesty in my own life. Maybe I don’t need to smooth out every flaw in a picture. Maybe I don’t need to craft the perfect words all the time. Maybe what people need more than polish is presence—my real, imperfect, human presence.
And I’ll be honest: I know AI can be a helpful tool when used responsibly—I even use it sometimes to help shape my words. But what troubles me is when technology replaces reality altogether, when the home interior design you admire online doesn’t even exist, or the voice in a video was never spoken by a real person. There’s a difference between assistance and deception, and it’s that line that worries me.
Holding On to What Cannot Be Faked
There is one thing I know at the end of the day: that no matter how advanced technology becomes, it will never duplicate love or replicate faith, and it definitely cannot generate the peace that comes when God meets you in your weakest moment.
The world we are living in will offer endless illusions, but the Spirit of God brings truth that cannot be counterfeited.
So, when I feel unsettled by all the artificial images, voices, and words swirling around me, I take a deep breath and remind myself:
That God is real.
His love is real.
His presence is real.
Everything else may blur, but He never will.
So What Do We Do Now
We are living in an age where we often don’t know what’s authentic anymore. Pictures, voices, even entire stories can be fabricated with frightening ease. But amid all this, there is One we can trust completely.
I don’t have to second-guess whether God’s love is genuine. His promises don’t need fine print or editing—they are true as they are. I don’t have to wonder if He is only an image projected to comfort me.
He is the original. The real. The eternal.
And that is enough.
