Posted October 01, 2026
The co-pilot of a flight from Dubai to Tel Aviv on Wednesday tried to crash the plane after stabbing the pilot, according to Israeli officials. He sent the jet plunging nearly fourteen thousand feet in less than thirty seconds, but the pilot fought off the attack and opened the cockpit door; his bravery “managed to prevent a 9/11 disaster,” according to Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.
A passenger identified as Yaniv Hayun said he then “grabbed the terrorist, put him in a hold, and first of all pulled him outside.” He called for other passengers to restrain the co-pilot, then “grabbed the controls” before another pilot onboard took over and landed the plane. The airplane had more than 170 Israelis on board.
Israel’s defense minister described the incident as a “jihadist terror attack,” though Mr. Netanyahu told Fox News Wednesday night that it was “too early to say” whether there was any indication of Iranian involvement. But if this was a terrorist attack against Israelis and Israel, it would join a long list of such attacks over the years. Each was motivated by a belief that attacking Jews is a defense of Islam required by the Qur’an.
Such attacks illustrate John Stonestreet’s observation that ideas have consequences and bad ideas have victims. Let’s explore this fact in light of what has been called “the single most consequential invention in human history.”
In an important recent article for the New York Times, national religion correspondent Elizabeth Dias reports that AI developer Anthropic has been hosting a variety of meetings with religious leaders to seek their help with Claude, their cutting-edge AI model. Christopher Oleh, who leads the company’s team responsible for understanding why AI systems like Claude act the way they do, wants to persuade the models to abide by a moral code that will protect humanity.
Consequently, he has met with a wide range of religious scholars and leaders, from Pope Leo XIV and other Catholics to Jewish, Sikh, Mormon, and evangelical thinkers. Halfway through her extensive article, Dias asks the key question: “Even if AI models can be taught to behave morally, whose morals should they reflect?”
In response, she quotes Olah: “We do think that there’s some shared notion of goodness that cuts across society in some very broad way, and it seems like these models understand a lot of virtues. So I think there’s something there that is a shared thing that we can all engage with.”
Without such a “shared thing,” Pope Leo warned in his encyclical on the subject, “Those who control AI will impose their own moral vision, which will become the invisible infrastructure of these systems.” And this “vision” will be as subjective as the people who frame it.
Here we find the central problem of our secularized society: by abandoning biblical morality, we are left with the “morality” of our own choosing. With no true north on our compass, we will go wherever our personal “will to power” takes us.
Every day, crimes and tragedies in the headlines show us how that’s going for us.
I played tennis for many years, won some intramural matches in college, and thought I was pretty good. Then a friend in the church I was pastoring invited me to play with him. He had competed professionally years earlier, but he had not played in a long time and was just starting to get back into the game.
As we warmed up, it seemed to me that he was in fact rusty, so I resolved to go easy on him lest I discourage him. Then he asked if we wanted to play a few games. I agreed and graciously suggested that he serve first. When he hit his first serve, I watched him toss the ball in the air, heard his racket hit it, and saw a blur streak past me. There was no way I could respond quickly enough to get my racket on it.
In that moment, I learned the difference between an amateur and a professional—at least in regard to tennis.
I say that to say this: we don’t really know how good we are at something until we compare ourselves to someone better than us. Of all the people with whom we can make such a comparison, God is obviously at the top of the list.
Isaiah was a priest in Israel and a good friend and counselor to King Uzziah. By any human measure, he was a success at what he did. But when he met God on his throne, he cried out, “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the Lᴏʀᴅ of hosts!” (Isaiah 6:5).
Peter had a similar experience in Luke 5. He had been a successful fisherman and businessman and a faithful follower of Jesus. But when he encountered the full divinity and omnipotence of Christ on the Sea of Galilee, “he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, ‘Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord’” (v. 8).
John was Jesus’ “beloved” disciple and best friend. But when he met the risen Christ on the prison island of Patmos, he wrote that “I fell at his feet as though dead” (Revelation 1:17).
Louie Giglio is right: God is the great I Am, and I am the little I Am Not.
The English novelist Dorothy L. Sayers remarked, “Hell is the enjoyment of one’s way forever.” The French theologian François Fénelon (1651–1715) was therefore right: “To realize God’s presence is the one sovereign remedy against temptation.”
How do we “realize” his presence today?
Dwight Moody said of the Bible, “This book will keep you from sin, or sin will keep you from this book.” This is because the Bible is intended to lead us into a personal encounter with its Author (John 20:31). And, as John Calvin noted, “All God’s promises depend upon Christ alone.”
So I’ll ask: When last did you meet the living Lord Jesus in a transforming way?
Asked differently: When last were you awed by God?
“Jesus, the very thought of Thee, with sweetness fills my breast; but sweeter far Thy face to see, and in Thy presence rest.” —Bernard of Clairvaux (1090–1153)
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