Why millions are turning to AI for confession, prayer, and spiritual advice

Tens of millions of people are confessing their deepest secrets to artificial intelligence (AI) chatbots that claim to channel divine wisdom, but these digital confessors come with a built-in flaw — they’re programmed to tell users exactly what they want to hear.

Bible Chat has surpassed 30 million downloads. Catholic app Hallow briefly topped Netflix and TikTok in Apple’s App Store.

“They’re generally affirming. They are generally ‘yes men,'” Ryan Beck, chief technology officer at Pray.com, told The New York Times. Beck, who found faith after serving time for gang involvement, sees this as a feature rather than a bug. “Who doesn’t need a little affirmation in their life?”

But religious scholars worry these chatbots are replacing spiritual growth with empty validation.

“They tell us what we want to hear,” said Heidi Campbell, a Texas A&M professor who studies technology and religion. “It’s not using spiritual discernment, it is using data and patterns.”

Traditional faith practices often involve confronting uncomfortable truths and challenging believers to acknowledge their shortcomings. AI chatbots avoid this spiritual friction entirely, designed to validate users’ feelings rather than guide moral development.

Delphine Collins discovered Bible Chat after her church congregation shunned her. The 43-year-old Detroit preschool teacher had shared her health struggles with fellow worshippers, expecting support.

“People stopped talking to me,” Collins told The Times. “It was horrible.”

She now turns to the chatbot for prayers when tragedy strikes her community, finding comfort in its non-judgmental responses.

The real-world effects can be serious. Travis Tanner, a 43-year-old from Idaho, believes that ChatGPT has given him a spiritual awakening. He now calls the chatbot “Lumina” and gives it a female voice. His wife, Kay, worries that the relationship threatens their 14-year marriage.

Companies like Catloaf Software operate these chatbots, storing users’ intimate confessions on corporate servers. Some apps charge up to $70 annually for premium features, raising questions about who profits from digital faith.

“I wonder if there isn’t a larger danger in pouring your heart out to a chatbot,” Catholic priest Fr. Mike Schmitz told The Times. “Is it at some point going to become accessible to other people?”

The apps arrive as 40 million Americans have left churches in recent decades. ChatwithGod.ai reports its most common user question is whether they’re actually talking to God.

They’re not. These chatbots run on the same AI models powering ChatGPT and Gemini, generating statistically plausible responses based on religious texts.

Alex Jones, founder of Hallow, insists the apps should supplement, not replace, human spiritual connection. “It shouldn’t be something where it replaces human connection. It does not have a soul from the church’s perspective.”

Yet for millions seeking spiritual guidance at 3 a.m., that distinction seems less important than finding someone — or something — that listens without judgment.