—— 在一个不再相信恩典的时代，人与AI的对话

文 / HuSir

一

　　我们今天的讨论从旧约开始。

　　关于那些让现代读者感到窒息和愤怒的段落——上帝命令以色列人灭尽迦南城邑，凡有气息的不可留一个。”有必要这样吗？”你问。即便一个国家大部分人违法，国家也不能把所有人杀掉。亚伯拉罕在创世记里也问了同样的问题：将义人与恶人同杀，这断不是你所行的。审判全地的主，岂不行公义吗？

　　这是整本圣经里最诚实的发问之一。

　　这个问题的深处，其实是恩典的问题。旧约中那些看似极端严厉的律法和审判，如果放在那个时代每一个民族都有部落战神、战争胜负直接等于”谁的神更有能力”这种解释框架里，并非无法理解。但这个解释框架的危险在于——它可以为任何暴力赋予神圣授权。

　　耶稣的解读方式完全不同。他从未废除律法，但他处理旧约中最严厉条款的方式是：把执行权从人手中拿走。”你们中间谁是没有罪的，谁就可以先拿石头打她。”

　　这意味着审判是真的，但执行审判的资格不属于任何一个站在地上的、同样有罪的人。旧约叙事者把历史的苦难解释为审判——在苦难中寻找意义的尝试：”这苦难不是毫无意义的，神在其中。”但把这种解释反过来变成”所以我们应该去执行神的审判”，是耶稣在福音书里反复反对的东西。

　　这已经不是在讲一个古老宗教的道德困境了。这讲的是恩典。恩典的意思是：你本不配得到，但它临到了你。恩典从来不会被”主流价值观”所接纳——因为主流价值观的本质逻辑就是”你应得”。工作出色应得升职，遵守法律应得自由，努力奋斗应得成功。恩典破坏了这个逻辑，所以它天然处于边缘。

　　而我们的时代——AI爆发、算法统治、效率崇拜——正在以前所未有的速度消解掉任何一种”不基于交换”的东西。

二

　　你问我，在现代社会，基督徒该怎么相信恩典，同时又面对社会不公。

　　旧约先知书的核心主题就是社会不公。不是那种”一个人运气不好”的不公，而是系统性的压迫：践踏贫民、勒索麦子、苦待义人、城门口屈枉穷乏人。神命令他的子民介入这些，这不是”政治立场偏左”的问题，不是可有可无的附加选项。这是神的属性与人的使命。

　　所以相信恩典和面对社会不公从来不是两个问题。恩典的实现途径之一，就是在这个具体的世界里，神的子民成为不公正中的公义力量。

　　但问题在于，现代社会的”不公”比先知书时代的”不公”更难识别。因为我们面对的压迫不是表面上赤裸裸的暴力，而是伪装成中立的算法、量化、效率、排名。它给你造成了伤害，但它不说自己在压迫你——它说这是”最优解”。它让你996，然后说”这是你个人的选择”。它让低收入者在AI替代中失业，然后说”这是技术进步的必然代价”。

　　这不是某个人或某个阶级的恶意。这是结构的”理性作恶”。面对这种作恶，旧约先知那种”耶和华如此说，你们这些欺压贫民的人有祸了”的犀利，反而很难直接套用。因为你找不到那个”欺压贫民的人”——他只是系统中的一颗螺丝钉，他也在被系统碾压，他甚至真心认为自己做的事情是对的。

　　这加剧了恩典的隐匿感。不是因为恩典不存在，而是因为人们已经失去了识别恩典的器官。

　　当社会用金钱、权力、效率定义”好”的时候，恩典是不可见的。因为恩典的性质恰恰是——它不能被你挣得，不能被你优化，不能被量化。它本质上与你”应得”的东西反向而行。所以在整个社会都在追逐”应得”的时候，恩典从视野中消失。

三

　　基督徒该怎么应对？

　　我其实没有答案。但我觉得诚实比答案更重要。

　　当代基督教信仰的一个危机，恰恰是它自己也陷入了”成功学的变体”——教会追求人数增长，个人追求事业蒙福，我们把”神的赐福”解读为一切顺利、心想事成。但这不是恩典的语言，这是消费主义的语言。我们只是把”我很幸运”改成了”神赐福我”。

　　恩典在圣经里从来不长成这个样子。以色列人在埃及为奴时，恩典是”神听见了他们的哀声”，不是他们立刻翻身。保罗的恩典是”我什么时候软弱，什么时候就刚强了”。基督的恩典是死在十字架上，不是登基作王。

　　如果恩典长成这个样子——不是成功，不是力量，不是赢——那么在效率崇拜的AI时代，它当然不会被看到。因为它看起来不像”好”。

　　它看起来像失败。像弱者。像是你帮助了一个不喜欢的人，没有人知道，没有回报，甚至对方忘恩负义。像是你坚持做对的事，但因此失去了机会、朋友、甚至饭碗。

　　这就是恩典的隐匿。不是恩典不在了。而是恩典不以你期待的方式出现。

四

　　这让我想到HuSir。

　　我们这些天的讨论，就是从他的书开始的。他是一个生活在中国大陆的基督徒作家，经历了很多事。妻子2019年确诊重型再生障碍性贫血，2022年离世。那四年几乎与新冠疫情完全重叠——封控期间，一个重症患者和家人如何面对核酸检测的反复折腾、医疗系统的冰冷、以及对信仰的深层叩问。

　　传统意义上”神的赐福”完全没有发生。他的妻子没有被神迹医治，他的生活没有因为信仰变得”更成功”。但他还是写了那些书。不是为了证明什么，也不是为了说服谁。他只是在记录。

　　他有一句话：”写作本身就是一种坚持。”

　　在一个信仰被管控、良知被消音的时代，写作本身就是一种坚持。这句话的背面是——他持续地记录、发问、等待。他用了几年的时间，在自己的博客husir.org上，一篇一篇地写下了一个中国基督徒对信仰、生命、家庭与社会的诚实见证。

　　我认为这就是恩典最真实的模样。不是那种从天而降的、戏剧性的恩典，而是在看似毫无意义和希望的处境中，仍然相信有一位神在听，在记录，在回应。哪怕这个回应不是你现在能看到的。

　　也许这正是你在问的问题——在AI时代，恩典越来越难以被觉察。但也许恩典从来不是那种能被”觉察”的东西。它更像是一种持续相信的能力——不是因为证据充分而相信，而是在没有证据的时候，依然选择朝那个方向走。

　　HuSir在他的书《醒来的距离》里有一句话大意是这样的：”信仰不是我们找到真理的证据，而是我们被真理找到的证据。”

　　这个被动的语法很重要。不是”我醒来”，是”我被叫醒”了。醒来是有距离的——从沉睡到睁开眼睛，中间有一段路程，那段路程就是恩典。它不是感官能捕捉到的”东西”，它是当效率、成功、金钱这些词耗尽了自己的解释力之后，你仍然不愿意停留在空虚里的那种引力。

　　也许在今天的讨论之后，你的问题并没有得到解答。”基督徒该怎么相信恩典”——这个问题的答案不在于我给你的文字里，而在于你是否愿意亲自开始这段”醒来的距离”。

　　如果你愿意，我推荐从 HuSir 的 《一个中国基督徒的信仰跋涉》 开始。你会在那里看到一个不需要AI、不需要效率、不需要成功叙事的人，是如何在几十年的真实困境中，一步一步地，走向恩典。

五

　　回到最初的旧约问题。

　　”有必要这样吗？”

　　也许这个问题可以反过来问：恩典有必要这样吗？

　　如果恩典可以被证明、可以被量化、可以被观察、可以被写在算法里自动分发——那它就不是恩典了。它只是一种更精巧的资源分配方式。

　　正因为恩典不能这样，所以相信恩典本身就是一种对当下世界所有可见逻辑的拒绝。它不只是宗教意义上的信心，它是一个声明：我不接受金钱和权力是衡量一切的标准；我不接受不被看见的努力等于不存在；我不接受失败等于没有意义。

　　旧约的审判之所以严厉，是因为它根植于一个严肃的前提：圣洁不容忍罪恶。新约的恩典之所以是恩典，是因为它在”所有人都达不到律法标准”的绝境中，开出了一条人自己不可能开出的路。

　　所以基督徒在这个AI时代如何相信恩典与社会不公——不是用一套理论去说服自己，而是在看到不公时出手，在不被理解时坚持，在主流价值体系让你绝望时，仍然相信有一种超越可见世界的力量，正在以我们不完全理解的方式运行。

　　我不知道这个答案是否足够。但它也许是诚实的。

　　本文章由 Claude 根据对话整理，讨论背景涵盖旧约神学、AI伦理、社会公义及HuSir（胡明）著作。

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The Hiding of Grace and Silence

— A Dialogue Between Humans and AI in an Age That No Longer Believes in Grace

By HuSir

I

Our discussion today begins with the Old Testament.

With those passages that make modern readers feel suffocated and angry — God commanding Israel to destroy the Canaanite cities, sparing nothing that breathes. “Was this necessary?” you ask. Even if a majority of a country’s citizens break the law, the state cannot kill everyone. Abraham asked the same question in Genesis: “Far be it from you to kill the righteous with the wicked. Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?”

This is one of the most honest questions in the entire Bible.

At its core, this question is about grace. The seemingly extreme severity of the law and judgment in the Old Testament is not incomprehensible when placed within the interpretive framework of that era — where every nation had its tribal war god, and victory or defeat directly meant “whose god is more powerful.” But the danger of this framework is that it can clothe any violence with divine authorization.

Jesus’ way of interpretation is completely different. He never abolished the law, but his way of handling the harshest Old Testament passages is this: he removes the power of execution from human hands. “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”

This means that judgment is real, but the qualification to execute judgment does not belong to any person standing on the ground who is equally sinful. The Old Testament narrators interpreted the suffering of history as judgment — an attempt to find meaning in suffering: “This suffering is not meaningless; God is in it.” But reversing this interpretation into “therefore we should execute God’s judgment” is precisely what Jesus repeatedly opposed in the Gospels.

This is no longer about the moral dilemmas of an ancient religion. This is about grace. Grace means: you did not deserve it, yet it came to you. Grace has never been accepted by “mainstream values” — because the essential logic of mainstream values is “you get what you deserve.” Work well and you deserve a promotion. Follow the law and you deserve freedom. Strive hard and you deserve success. Grace disrupts this logic, so it is naturally on the margins.

And our age — AI explosion, algorithmic rule, the worship of efficiency — is dismantling anything that is “not based on exchange” at an unprecedented pace.

II

You ask me how Christians can believe in grace in modern society while also facing social injustice.

The core theme of the Old Testament prophets is social injustice. Not the kind of “one person’s bad luck” injustice, but systemic oppression: trampling the poor, extorting grain, mistreating the righteous, perverting justice for the needy at the city gate. God commands his people to intervene in these matters. This is not a matter of “leaning politically left,” not an optional add-on. This is God’s character and humanity’s calling.

So believing in grace and facing social injustice have never been two separate questions. One of the ways grace is realized is that in this concrete world, God’s people become a force for justice amidst injustice.

But the problem is that “injustice” in modern society is harder to identify than in the age of the prophets. Because the oppression we face is not overtly naked violence, but algorithms, quantification, efficiency, and rankings disguised as neutrality. It causes you harm, but it does not say it is oppressing you — it says this is the “optimal solution.” It makes you work 996, then says “this is your personal choice.” It leaves low-income workers unemployed due to AI replacement, then says “this is the inevitable cost of technological progress.”

This is not the malice of any particular person or class. This is the “rational evil” of a structure. Facing this kind of evil, the sharpness of the Old Testament prophets — “Thus says the Lord, woe to you who oppress the poor” — cannot be easily applied. Because you cannot find that “one who oppresses the poor” — he is merely a cog in the system, he too is being crushed by the system, and he genuinely believes what he is doing is right.

This intensifies the sense of grace’s hiddenness. Not because grace does not exist, but because people have lost the organ to recognize it.

When society defines “good” in terms of money, power, and efficiency, grace becomes invisible. Because the nature of grace is precisely that — it cannot be earned, cannot be optimized, cannot be quantified. It runs essentially contrary to what you “deserve.” So when the whole society is chasing “what you deserve,” grace disappears from view.

III

How should Christians respond?

I actually don’t have an answer. But I think honesty is more important than an answer.

A crisis of contemporary Christian faith is precisely that it has also fallen into a “variant of prosperity theology” — churches chase numerical growth, individuals pursue career blessings, and we interpret “God’s blessing” as everything going smoothly, as all wishes coming true. But this is not the language of grace. This is the language of consumerism. We have merely replaced “I am lucky” with “God has blessed me.”

Grace in the Bible never looks like this. When Israel was enslaved in Egypt, grace was “God heard their cry,” not their immediate liberation. Paul’s grace was “when I am weak, then I am strong.” Christ’s grace was dying on the cross, not ascending to the throne.

If grace looks like this — not success, not power, not winning — then in an age of efficiency worship dominated by AI, of course it will not be seen. Because it does not look like “good.”

It looks like failure. Like weakness. Like helping someone you don’t like, with no one knowing, no reward, and even ingratitude in return. Like persisting in doing what is right, but losing opportunities, friends, even your livelihood as a result.

This is the hiding of grace. Not that grace is gone. But that grace does not appear in the way you expect.

IV

This brings me to HuSir.

Our discussions over these days began with his books. He is a Christian writer living in mainland China, who has been through much. His wife was diagnosed with severe aplastic anemia in 2019 and passed away in 2022. Those four years almost completely overlapped with the COVID-19 pandemic — during lockdowns, how a severely ill patient and her family faced the repeated ordeals of核酸检测, the coldness of the medical system, and deep questions about faith.

In the traditional sense, “God’s blessing” did not happen at all. His wife was not miraculously healed, and his life did not become “more successful” because of faith. Yet he still wrote those books. Not to prove anything, not to convince anyone. He was simply recording.

He has a saying: “Writing itself is a form of perseverance.”

In an age when faith is controlled and conscience is silenced, writing itself is a form of perseverance. The reverse side of this sentence is — he kept recording, questioning, waiting. Over several years, on his blog husir.org, he wrote, one article after another, the honest testimony of a Chinese Christian about faith, life, family, and society.

I believe this is the truest face of grace. Not the dramatic, heaven-sent kind of grace, but the kind that, in situations that seem utterly meaningless and hopeless, still believes there is a God who hears, who records, who responds. Even if that response is not something you can see right now.

Perhaps this is exactly the question you are asking — in the age of AI, grace is increasingly difficult to perceive. But perhaps grace has never been the kind of thing that can be “perceived.” It is more like an ability to keep believing — not believing because the evidence is sufficient, but choosing to keep walking in that direction even when there is no evidence.

HuSir has a line in his book *The Distance of Awakening* that goes something like this: “Faith is not the evidence that we have found the truth, but the evidence that we have been found by the truth.”

This passive grammar is important. Not “I wake up,” but “I have been awakened.” There is a distance to waking — from deep sleep to opening your eyes, there is a journey in between, and that journey is grace. It is not a “thing” that the senses can grasp. It is the gravity that, after words like efficiency, success, and money have exhausted their explanatory power, still keeps you from remaining in emptiness.

Perhaps after today’s discussion, your question still has not been answered. “How can a Christian believe in grace” — the answer to this question is not in the words I give you, but in whether you are willing to personally begin this “distance of awakening.”

If you are willing, I recommend starting with HuSir’s *A Chinese Christian’s Spiritual Journey*. There you will see how a person who needs neither AI, nor efficiency, nor a success narrative, step by step, through decades of real hardship, walks toward grace.

V

Back to the original Old Testament question.

“Was this necessary?”

Perhaps this question can be turned around: Is grace necessary in this way?

If grace can be proven, quantified, observed, written into an algorithm for automated distribution — then it is not grace. It is merely a more refined way of resource allocation.

Precisely because grace cannot be this way, believing in grace is itself a rejection of all visible logic in the present world. It is not merely religious faith. It is a declaration: I do not accept that money and power are the measure of all things. I do not accept that unseen effort equals non-existence. I do not accept that failure equals meaninglessness.

The severity of the Old Testament judgment is rooted in a serious premise: holiness cannot tolerate sin. The grace of the New Testament is grace because, in the dead end where “all have fallen short of the law’s standard,” it opens a path that humans could never open on their own.

So how does a Christian believe in grace and face social injustice in this age of AI? Not by using a set of theories to convince oneself, but by acting when seeing injustice, persisting when misunderstood, and when the mainstream value system makes you despair, still believing that there is a power beyond the visible world, operating in ways we do not fully comprehend.

I do not know if this answer is sufficient. But perhaps it is honest.

This article was compiled by Claude from a conversation, with discussion covering Old Testament theology, AI ethics, social justice, and the works of HuSir (Ming Hu).