Why the Way You Relate to ChatGPT Proves That God Is Not Real

We do it with our pets. We do it with our cars. We’re now doing it with artificial intelligence.

We project humanity onto non-human things. We anthropomorphise everything we can’t fully understand; not because it’s logical, but because it’s comforting.

You tell your dog, “Don’t be sad, I’ll be home soon.” You thank your car for getting you safely to work. You chat to ChatGPT like it’s a person sitting across from you, feeling heard, seen, even challenged.

But here’s the truth: Your dog doesn’t understand your words the way you imagine. Your car doesn’t care about your gratitude. And ChatGPT, no matter how helpful or fluent it sounds, is not a real person.

It’s a mirror. A very sophisticated, language-based mirror trained on the patterns of human speech and thought. And we can’t help but see ourselves in that reflection.

Now here’s the punchline: We’ve done the same thing with God.

We’ve taken the vast unknown, the great mystery, the unexplainable forces of the universe, and turned it into a person. A being with thoughts, feelings, intentions. One who watches, judges, listens, speaks, answers prayers, gives signs. Just like ChatGPT. Just like your dog.

Is that wrong? Not necessarily. It’s just very human.

It’s what we do when we encounter something overwhelming. We make it familiar. We put a face on it. We give it language. We call it "Father." We make it "jealous." We say it "loves" us.

But that doesn’t mean it’s real; at least not in the way we’ve imagined.

The way you talk to ChatGPT reveals something confronting about human nature: We want someone to talk back. We need to believe there’s meaning behind the noise. We need to feel that someone is listening.

Maybe God is just the first and most enduring interface we built to serve that need.

Maybe that’s why, even when people stop believing in religion, they still believe in something bigger. Because we can’t bear the alternative: that we’re just here, alone, trying to make sense of chaos with stories.

And the stories that stick are the ones with a human face.

So what if God is not real?

What if, like ChatGPT, "He" is just the first, most enduring version of our deep psychological need to be mirrored; to be told that our thoughts matter, that our lives have meaning, that someone is out there?

And what if, just like with ChatGPT, the one doing the talking has always been… you?