honest work: thoughts on ChatGPT & other bougie conveniences

It may be the drunken-like boldness that comes after several days of sickness, but I have emerged with sudden lucidity about ChatGPT.

I’ve been wrestling because I recognize one side of it as convenience and progress. But to be totally honest, I’ve also avoided it as a disgruntled snob, sort of like how professional cooks shun pre-made, canned spaghetti sauce.

honest work: thoughts on ChatGPT & other bougie conveniences | Shannon Guerra at Copperlight Wood

Convenience and progress are important. We have a tankless water heater and our family takes full advantage of the fact that not only do we not have to pump, haul, and heat every drop of water we need, we also enjoy unlimited hot water straight from the tap. It’s so magical.

And yet, there are many who have struggled to just have enough water to survive. In comparison to their fight to have just enough to live on, if they could see our ease they might think we didn’t earn or deserve what they’ve had to work so hard for.

It’s understandable. Times and places and cultures are different, though.

And also, while there may be some skill needed in gathering and hauling water, it’s not an ability that a person works for decades to achieve. It’s something they do because they have to, to survive.

So on one hand, we’re talking about convenience and progress, and I am all for convenience, and mostly even for progress, depending on how you define it. I’m grateful to have a clean, modern mattress rather than a straw-filled pallet. I love flushing toilets and electricity. And don’t get me started on the marvelous bliss known as espresso.

But on the other hand, there’s another kind of convenience that robs us, sort of like taking cold medicine when you really just need to let a fever and other symptoms do their work to heal your body. When you don’t do that, you become dependent on artificial medicine that just hides those symptoms, and your body forgets how to heal the way it was designed to. Eventually all sorts of bad things eventually result…like people dependent on a medical system that profits from illness rather than educates on healing, and eventually encourages people to do things like wear masks while swimming because their IQ has dropped to the level of a toaster.

This is not progress.

In that vein, we could also broach the issue of calculators, which were rarely allowed in class when I was in school but now are pretty much used by all of us for everything from budgeting to figuring out how much change we should be getting back from the barista.

Have we collectively been dumbed down, made lazier? Yes, for sure.

So that’s a thing. And it progressed with the advent of computers and smartphones and pretty much every advance in technology, really.

I use a laptop with the conveniences of Copy, Cut, Paste, Undo, Delete, and even CAPSLOCK for when I’m feeling particularly punchy. Dickens, Austen, and the Brontes didn’t have those. (Well, they had literal scissors and paste, and I’ve heard some of them used it, but that’s much more complicated than hitting a few keys.) Tolstoy, Mitchell, Dostoevsky, Scott, and all those guys inserted and crossed out and rearranged and rewrote by hand.

By! hand!

In junior high and high school, all of my papers (including the dreaded 5-paragraph essays) were written by hand. Even my earliest college papers were pre-computer. Draft after draft after draft, I’d finally put it all together as a final copy in the neatest version of my messy scrawl.

I cannot imagine putting together Pride and Prejudice, Little Dorrit, or (gasp, hand me the smelling salts) the 1100 pages of Gone With the Wind that way. Not only did these writers create such incredible stories, but they had the discipline, tenacity, and mental clarity to pull such projects together without the help of highlight, click, and drag.

Meanwhile, I get distracted if the cats start meowing for food while I’m trying to put a complex sentence together. I will never be the writers these guys were; my world and ability and culture is different. I use tools they didn’t have, and benefit from them…but I have also traded ability for the convenience of using them.

But here’s what seems to be the crux of the difference: I will never pretend to be those writers, either. I do not present my work as someone who has put the effort into organizing and writing everything by hand.

Did tailors and seamstresses feel this way when the sewing machine was invented? There were mixed reactions. It shifted (and in some ways destroyed) the careers and artisanship of those who had mastered the craft by hand, and yet many of them were grateful for the ease the machine brought in making production that much simpler.

What about photography? Even though people like my husband went to school to learn the nuances of it, I can now easily take a beautiful photo with my phone because the technology does all the work. But I’m not fooling anyone about poring over images in a dark room – everyone knows that all I did was aim and click.

We enjoy these conveniences and we do not lie to the public about how we achieved the works derived from them. So in that sense, ChatGPT and its cronies are perfectly legit as tools to help lay people. For example, if you need help creating a legal document, or checking grammar for an email, or you need a few lines of code for your website, no shame, I get it.

So that’s one side.

On the other side, though, there’s so much more.

With many conveniences, tasks are simplified. For example, in using calculators, we relinquish our ability to solve a simple problem. But with AI doing our creating for us, we relinquish our abilities to express, communicate, and innovate.

We were made in the image of the Creator, so we were made to create. He spoke and things happened; and life and death are in the power of our words, too. We have no business abdicating our expression to AI, casting off our reflection of God and the partnership we have with Him in creating.

It’s not just writing, but art, film, and all sorts of media are being replaced by this cheap coin-slot alternative. Do we really want our humanity replaced, made obsolete?

Dear Kingdom-minded professional content creators: The breath of God within you is worth something.

It cost Him something for us to be able to express what He put within us. Are we so indifferent to the price He paid that we’re willing to trade our expression and reflection of Him – our honest work – to present an inflated offering?

There’s a story about this in the Bible, and it’s a formidable warning to those who would offer up a dishonest sacrifice.

It’s the time of the early Church, and the cool kids (well, Barnabas, at least) have started a trend of selling large assets so the proceeds could be used toward expansion of the Kingdom. So far, so good.

But a man named Ananias, with the consent of his wife Sapphira, sold a piece of property; with his wife’s knowledge, he kept back some of the proceeds and brought only a part and laid it at the apostles’ feet.

– Acts 5:1-2

He wanted credit for giving the whole thing when he knew he hadn’t given it all.

“Ananias,” Peter asked, “why has Satan filled your heart to lie to the Holy Spirit and to keep back part of the proceeds of the land? While it remained unsold, did it not remain your own? And after it was sold, were not the proceeds at your disposal? How is it that you have contrived this deed in your heart? You did not lie to us but to God!

Now when Ananias heard these words, he fell down and died. And great fear seized all who heard of it. The young men came and wrapped up his body, then carried him out and buried him.

– Acts 5:3-6

Contrast this with King David, who said, “I will not offer burnt offerings to the Lord my God that cost me nothing.”

When used by professionals on the sly, ChatGPT and other AI tools are bougie conveniences: Big hat, no cattle, declaring to the world that something was created when it was merely…faked.

In a precious few places I’ve seen Christian content creators preface their work with, “I used ChatGPT to help me with this,” and I appreciate their honesty. But if the writer/artist doesn’t do that and they use these tools to do the work for them, they are saying, Look, I did this, even though they didn’t.

Maybe they wrote part of it, or started with the initial ideas, or even plugged in a draft for the program to polish. But none of that is equal to putting in hours upon hours of work – not to mention years of study and practice – to put forth a piece that is cohesive, creative, and well done. In that sense, it is much like athletes cheating by taking performance-enhancing drugs to get an advantage over their competitors who are doing honest work.

So ChatGPT is not just a new convenience, like a word processor. ChatGPT is also a hired hand, a ghostwriter who does the work while the name on the cover takes the credit. Additionally, it makes even genuine writers suspect, because if ChatGPT and other forms of AI creation become the assumed latest modern conveniences that everyone uses (even when we don’t), gone are the days when any of us gets credit for truly creating our own work.

As someone who has spent decades on this craft – and it is a craft, a skill that is developed with much practice and earned to some degree – the sudden rush of anyone and everyone cranking out books, posts, or even slews of social media promotions just by plugging in a prompt into a program feels like theft to me.

Oh, you told ChatGPT what to do, and it just…did it? That’s how you wrote your posts, and finished your book? That’s cute. Here are my shelves of books on writing that I’ve studied, and here’s my fourth laptop – I’ve slogged away on it until the characters are blurred on seven keys, and the left Shift button is cracked.

I know it sounds like a measure of superiority and bitterness, for sure. But I don’t think I’m a better person than someone who uses AI to write their posts. I just know I’m a better writer, because I’ve done the work.

Many of us have paid a price to achieve this. And some are taking credit for paying that price when they have not in fact done so.

After an interval of about three hours [Ananias’] wife came in, not knowing what had happened. Peter said to her, “Tell me whether you and your husband sold the land for such and such a price.” And she said, “Yes, that was the price.

Then Peter said to her, “How is it that you have agreed together to put the Spirit of the Lord to the test? Look, the feet of those who have buried your husband are at the door, and they will carry you out.”

– Acts 5:8-9

The sacrifice itself was good on its own. It became cheap and sinful when it was passed off as being more than what it really cost the giver.

If the intent is to use it as a tool, we can be honest about that. If someone needs the help, there’s no shame in taking advantage of it. We use electric drills, laptops, crock pots. I use a thesaurus, concordance, various Bible tools, and about 32 other tabs on two browsers. Tools are meant to be used.

The problem comes when the end result is faked, and offered as something it is not. If I sew something on a machine, I’m not going to represent it as something I stitched by hand. If I buy pastries from a bakery and bring them to potluck, I don’t take credit for making anything more than a purchase.

So it’s the misrepresentation that is meant to deceive and take credit that is the issue here. When we take credit for something we did not do, we cheapen the work of those who actually do create authentically.

So then, putting away falsehood, let each of you speak the truth with your neighbor, for we are members of one another….And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with which you were marked with a seal for the day of redemption.

– Ephesians 4:25, 30

We still have amazing photographers and seamstresses and tailors, even though technology has changed. But will we still have amazing writers and artists if anyone can fake it, everyone is suspect, and eventually people won’t even notice the difference?

I hope so. We work solo Deo gloria, not solo AI gloria. We’ve been given so much to say, and we will not trade the breath of God in our work to gain applause for a cheapened sacrifice.


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best books of 2024

We take a school break every Christmas: no assignments, no schedule, no charts.

So this year, in lieu of all that, we completed six or seven puzzles, painted, and listened to The Story of the World in audio during car rides. The kids played hours of old-school GeoSafari, thinking it was the coolest thing ever. (It kind of is.) One kid fell in love with the audio version of Our Island Story, and another made new calendars for 2025. I roped another into helping me redo our planner for this year, making it her first foray into graphic design. We played Ticket to Ride, Monopoly, and several other games, and even learned a little about the Himeji Castle in Japan, thanks to a ginormous Lego project.

But no, we didn’t do school at all. Feel free to snicker with us.

best books of 2024 | Shannon Guerra at Copperlight Wood

So learning is more than reading books…but also, it is definitely reading books. And here are my favorites from 2024. (Here are my previous lists from 20232022, and 2021.)

This year they’re all novels on the classic side. So, sorry if you prefer non-fiction – I did read non-fiction last year, but apparently none of them stood out enough to be added to this list – but hopefully you’ll find something here worth trying. I think they all are; I’ve read most of them more than once.

Lilith by George MacDonald

Have I talked your ear off about this one yet? This was our first book of the year in Gaining Ground and I quoted it heavily in one of my favorite posts here, but also in this one here, and wrote posts about it for Gaining Ground here and here, AND used the above quote as the epigraph in Risk the Ocean because it basically summarizes that part of our life. So suffice it to say that Lilith is profound, thought provoking, and disturbing in the best of ways. Not disturbing-and-repulsive-but-important like 1984, but disturbing in the sense that it stirs stagnant waters and brings things to the surface that need to be looked at and considered. It’s fantasy, strange and beautiful.

The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas

Long. You need to either read this one steadily, or take notes, or lean heavily on internet resources to map out characters and relationships like I did because there are intertwinings and disguises and previous liasons and all sorts of drama to keep track of. This is a story of betrayal, selfishness, justice, and revenge…um, there’s a bit of mercy, but no, it’s mostly revenge…and even though it’s so long, it’s worth it. Not everything works out perfectly and that’s sort of what I loved about it, because even amid all the larger-than-life aspects of the story, there’s a realness that reminds us we’re meant to overcome even when life is messy and regrettable things happen.

The Princess and the Goblin and The Princess and Curdie by George MacDonald

I read these to the kids for school this year, and as soon as we were done, Finn loved them so much he wanted Vin to re-read them to him at bedtime. And I was so encouraged by that because these are rich stories with complex language, but they’re so fun and fascinating that it kept them interested. They are fairy tale-ish fantasy, and the second book, The Princess and Curdie, starts a little slower (for kids) with some narrative description but the imagery is so symbolic and eloquent that it speaks volumes to adults; that message might go right over the kids but I’ve read it three or four times and love it every time, and it picks up fast after that. The chapters are really short so that helps the pace, too.

Curdie and his father were of these: their business was to bring to light hidden things; they sought silver in the rock and found it, and carried it out.

– George MacDonald, The Princess and Curdie

The Scarlet Pimpernel by Emma Orczy

A hurting marriage, a messy past, and an unidentified brilliant hero helping people escape during the French revolution. We read this in Gaining Ground and it was a perfect follow up to A Tale of Two Cities – it’s lighter, funnier, and covers the same era from a different perspective. This was the second time I’ve read it and one or two of the plot twists still surprised me.

Emma by Jane Austen

I didn’t really like this book the first time I read it because I don’t like books whose main character is annoying, obnoxious, or presumptuous. And Emma is…well, she’s a gentle version of those things: pampered, wealthy, revered more than she deserves. But this time around I noticed that Emma wasn’t really selfish, she was just immature. And in her immaturity she didn’t realize how arrogant, overbearing, and manipulative she was – but upon maturing (and it’s not an instant process) she grieves and repents. We could use more of this.

Malcolm by George MacDonald

Some years you just plow through a bunch of books by the same author, and this was the year of George MacDonald for me – not on purpose though, it just worked out that way with homeschool and Gaining Ground schedules colliding. But I chose this book myself, and it was hard to get into because of all the Scottish – and by Scottish, I mean dialect and vocabulary. But the spiritual principles in it were so good, the story so pure (not perfect, but pure), that it was worth it. Plus, now I know what words like gien, lugs, een, and lippen mean (if, ears, eyes, and trust, respectively).

Gone Away Lake and Return to Gone Away by Elizabeth Enright

Two kids wander the woods during summer vacation and stumble upon an empty, abandoned town…or is it? We had so much fun reading these last summer that we named one of our new chicks Minnehaha. (That will make more sense when you read the book, I promise.) I first read these to our older kids about 12-15 years ago, so this was the first time our younger crew encountered them, and just like with The Princess and the Goblin books, as soon as we finished, Finn immediately dove back into them as bedtime reading. Return to Gone Away is actually my favorite – if you’ve ever dreamed of finding an old, old house and restoring it, you’ll love it too.

Heavy Weather by P.G. Wodehouse

I raved about Wodehouse in this post and it’s this book’s fault. Sir Galahad is publishing his scandalous memoirs – but then he isn’t – but someone else wants them published – but several others don’t – and mayhem ensues with multiple plots afoot. Wheels within wheels, you know…SO FUNNY. No one does dialogue like Wodehouse.

The Little White Horse by Elizabeth Goudge

Another one I read to the kids. If you’re not familiar with Elizabeth Goudge, her writing is beautiful, cozy, atmospheric – the kind you curl up into, like a virtual blanket and tea. In spite of the title, the book is not about horses – or even a particular horse, really – but about a girl who goes to live in her uncle’s castle, which is her family’s ancestral home. The characters, human and animal, are fun and intriguing and not all what they seem to be.


So there’s the list. But hey, lastly, want to join us at Gaining Ground for more great books? We’re currently in the middle of Gone With the Wind (I really want this tshirt) but we’ll be starting Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott in March and we’d love for you to join us either on Substack or Telegram for it…since it will probably achieve a spot on next year’s Best Books list.

taste and see, or run and hide

While the boys tangled the tree in ribbon and bedecked it with shiny balls that would hopefully not shatter overnight from the cats’ meddling, I tucked my coffee behind the nativity set and rearranged Wodehouse books in the library.

“Do you know how many Wodehouse books we have?” I asked Vince, and he shook his head. Except for the passages I have read aloud to him while laughing so hard I gasped for air, he has never read Wodehouse.

taste and see, or run and hide: it's all about what we know | Shannon Guerra

“This stack here…” I pointed to a wobbly column over two feet high, and he began to laugh but stopped short when I continued, “and this stack here,” pointing to another stack behind the first one, which wasn’t as tall but probably kept the first column from collapsing, like a literary version of a flying buttress.

“How many books did Wodehouse write?” he asked – envy, inspiration, and disbelief, all in one question.

“Seventy or eighty, I think…not counting his plays and stuff. We only have about half of them.”

(Only, she said, and then wasted thirty minutes searching the internet for the exact number – it’s 71, if you’re only counting novels – and then another ten minutes adding his three autobiographies to her wishlist.)

I’ve spent money on bad books before but I’m more careful now; I didn’t start collecting Wodehouse books until I knew they were worth it. Now, though, I have tasted and seen – or, laughed and choked on my coffee – and I know they are good.

“There are moments, Jeeves, when one asks oneself, ‘Do trousers matter?'”

“The mood will pass, sir.”

– P.G. Wodehouse, The Code of the Woosters

A few days later, the other part of our book order arrived. I cut the shipping bag open with kitchen scissors and pulled out the used paperbacks.

“More Wodehouse!” I grinned.

More Wodehouse,” Vin repeated, with far less enthusiasm. “Like, more cowbell.

“Hey. If you read Wodehouse, you’d be excited too,” I told him.

She laughed — a bit louder than I could have wished in my frail state of health, but then she is always a woman who tends to bring plaster falling from the ceiling when amused.

― P.G. Wodehouse, The Code of the Woosters

But he hasn’t tasted and seen yet. He’s only heard and marveled, off and on, as I’ve barely muffled hysterical laughter way too late at night, trying not to wake up the kids.

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!
Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!
Oh, fear the Lord, you his saints,
for those who fear him have no lack!

– Psalm 34:8-9

Vin is, however, grateful he married a thrifty woman who hates shopping, whose main addictions are classic lit and wool yarn, both of which can be found in practically new condition at secondhand stores. And they both give a good return, if stewarded well and not just hoarded.

“For it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted to them his property. To one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away.

– Matthew 25:14-15

So we segue to the parable of the talents, a story of a king who entrusts his servants with varying amounts of wealth to steward for him. And you know what happens: The master returns, and the ones who had five and two doubled their talents and were rewarded, but the one who had only one talent…well, let’s see what it says:

He also who had received the one talent came forward, saying, “Master, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you scattered no seed, so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here, you have what is yours.”

– Matthew 25:24-25

Huh. He knew, so he was afraid, so he hid. Where have we heard that before?

Oh, right. Here, in the very beginning:

The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it. And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.”

– Genesis 2:15-17

In the beginning there was a certain amount of knowing that we weren’t supposed to have, because it would usurp our trust of God and make us focus on the wrong things. We began with a holy fear of God, which is trust and surrender. But in knowing the wrong things, we moved into an unholy fear that chose to walk in anxiety and control, which is just us saying, I know better than You do.

But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

So the woman takes and eats the fruit, and she also gives some to her husband who was with her (side note: We can stop blaming the fall entirely on women, thanks), and he eats it, too.

They realize they’re…you know, nekkid. Fig leaves, loincloths, strategically placed locks of hair.

We pick up in verse 8:

And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.

But the Lord God called to the man and said to him, “Where are you?”

And he said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself.”

– Genesis 3:8-10

Maybe it’s because when they did it their own way, they did it backwards. They didn’t taste and see; they saw and tasted – and then they knew something they were never intended to. They traded intimacy for exposure. They forfeited holy fear and got terror, shame, and separation instead.

We do this when we get things backwards, too. Recently I had a meeting coming up and I realized I was rehearsing information, asking myself possible questions and answers. I wondered if I was being too vulnerable, if I could trust this other person, if they would misunderstand my intentions.

Why am I nervous? I finally asked myself. Because I want this, and I don’t want to blow it.

Also, I felt exposed – like maybe I’d stepped forward where I should’ve held back; should’ve kept that talent under wraps where it would be safe, and do nothing.

Master, you gave me one book and I stuffed it under my mattress and did not read it, did not wrinkle the pages, did not bend the spine or dog-ear the corners, didn’t even take any notes. I did not get anything out of it, but also, look! It’s in pristine condition, so you won’t be mad at me for damaging it. Here you go. Thanks so much for the loan.

It’s the wrong kind of fear. That kind is the fear of man, and it’s all about impressing others, worrying about what someone else will think.

Surrender and honesty disarms it, though. So I asked myself these questions:

Do I want what I want, or do I want what He wants? Can I trust Him to know what I want better than I do, and know how to arrange it better than I could? Can I trust Him with the future, with relationships, with this conversation?

Do I trust Him to direct the situation and the timing? Do I trust Him to go ahead of me, and to give me the right words and wisdom?

Yes, yes, all yes. I have tasted and seen and I know He is good.

So suddenly the pressure is off, and there’s just joy and freedom. Just pleasant conversation and curiosity of what God does through it. The vulnerability doesn’t feel like exposure; it feels like faith that’s spelled risk, and it brings a return.

This is the talent surrendered that grows and multiplies, rather than runs and hides.

I used to know someone who was hurting and fighting and angry most of the time. Now I realize she literally just didn’t know what she was missing. She had not tasted and seen, so she ran and hid. What she knew made her feel exposed, and fear manifested as anger, so she rejected everything associated with God. I knew you to be a hard man…but she missed experiencing Him as the one who laughs and heals and walks in the garden, the one who made mercy triumph over judgment.

We only fight against goodness because we don’t realize how good it is. When we have no concept of real peace or freedom or joy, we think rebellion is better.

It’s changing the way I pray, because she – and everyone – needs to know His goodness. Because if they really knew His goodness, they’d recognize His love for them, and His worthiness of their love.

And their own desire would drive them to Him.

We all need to taste and see. We handle things (and relationships) differently when we know what (and whom) we’re dealing with.

We’re good at following our desires. Where we get it wrong is when our desires are out of alignment, fearful because we know so little, because ignorance breeds fear.

But once we know, there’s freedom and joy and peace, and we bear much fruit, reaping a harvest.

We know what we’re getting into, and we can’t get enough of it.


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‘What ho!’ I said.
‘What ho!’ said Motty.
‘What ho! What ho!’
‘What ho! What ho! What ho!’
After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation.

– P.G. Wodehouse, My Man Jeeves