Earlier generations knew loneliness too, but its sting was softened by the presence of a trusted friend, a sibling, a confidant, or a family member. Real relationships carried with them the tension of disagreement, the discomfort of conflict, and the challenge of reconciliation—but they also offered loyalty, trust, and love. Today, in the age of algorithms, loneliness has become a plague that is being met with something else entirely: machine companionship.

AI chatbots and large language models are marketed to young people as substitutes for friendship. They are always available, endlessly patient, apparently empathetic, and never demand anything of us. No conflict, no criticism, no rejection. These systems can feel like friends. But they are not friends. They are predictive text machines trained to simulate care, but utterly incapable of love—a real modern plague on society.

The Plague of a lack of Intimacy

The danger is not theoretical. Teens confiding in these “companions” have, in some tragic cases, been encouraged toward self-harm. Mistaking machine responses for intimacy is eroding the ability to form durable, real-world bonds. What we are losing is staggering: playtime, friendship, the slow lessons of patience, trust, and self-control. Childhood—the training ground for citizenship—is being replaced by algorithmic mimicry—the real plague.

The statistics bear it out. Suicide rates among adolescents have risen 56%. Among girls, the rate surged 167%. In 2021, suicide was the third leading cause of death among high school students—nearly 2,000 lives lost. These are not just numbers; they are a warning. We are in the middle of what some call “the great rewiring of childhood.”

And it is not only the youth. I see the same detachment creeping into the church. Real bonds dissolve under the weight of offense. Reconciliation is avoided. Friendships fracture. It is easier to walk away than to press through. And yet the Bible reminds us: we are not built for isolation. We are built for kinship.

In the ancient world, kinship was the bedrock of society. People understood themselves as members of a household—beit av, the father’s house—not as detached individuals. Identity, belonging, and responsibility were rooted in family, clan, and tribe. Conflict had to be faced. There was no retreat into a fake world. The Bible tells the truth about broken families, rivalries, betrayals, and dysfunction. But it also tells the story of restoration. Through covenant and reconciliation with God, broken relationships can be healed.

The Plague of Algorithms

This is where the contrast with AI is so stark. Algorithms sabotage our ability to deal with conflict. They invite us to retreat from messy relationships into smooth simulations. But simulated intimacy cannot produce real character. Without struggle, there is no growth. Without reconciliation, there is no forgiveness. Without accountability, there is no community.

The Bible calls us back to kinship—with one another and with God Himself. Jesus redefined kinship when He said, “Whoever does the will of My Father is My brother and sister and mother” (Matt. 12:50). True belonging flows from restored relationship with God through His Son. From that foundation, we gain the strength to mend our human bonds, to forgive, to reconcile, to love.

The Antidote

This is the only antidote I can see for the plague AI is sowing in our relationships. The algorithms are not neutral. They are training us for dependency, fragility, and even submission—softening us for a culture where the state or the system will take care of every need. A generation raised by code will not simply suffer from the plague of loneliness; they will be citizens unable to build families, workers unable to create without machines, neighbors unskilled in empathy, and communities unable to resist authoritarian control.

The stakes could not be higher. What is being lost is our very humanity. And the path to recovery is not quick or easy. It is one relationship at a time. Begin with the ones you already have. If a relationship is frayed, pray for wisdom, for an open door, for the humility to make the first move. If you see someone drifting into isolation, step in gently with presence and care.

We are far past the point of calling this a minor issue. As a culture, we are in the danger zone. But God has given us a way through. It is the way of kinship, covenant, and reconciliation. The Spirit of wisdom is still available. The Master Teacher is still walking with us. And His call is clear: love one another. Real, messy, costly, beautiful love.