Curious Christian

I work in IT. I’m not anti-technology. I love what it can do—when it serves people.

But I am increasingly unsettled with what I see coming. It’s not just the pace of change. It’s what we’re changing into. Something is shifting, quietly, steadily, in the structure of our society. And I don’t think we’ve been paying enough attention to what’s at stake.

We’re entering a world where fewer and fewer people own anything, not their homes, not their tools, not even their time. Everything is becoming a subscription, a lease, a license, a gig.

We’re told this is efficiency. But I’ve been wondering for a while now if it’s actually a new form of serfdom.

It’s More Than Just Tech

It would be easy to say this is all about software. But it’s not just our digital lives being reshaped. It’s our cities. Our economies. Our jobs. Our sense of security.

And especially: our homes.

I don’t think we can talk about the future of tech without talking about the future of housing. Because the more I look at what’s unfolding, the more it feels like everything, from our labor to our shelter, is being pulled into a system where ownership is reserved for the few, and access is metered out to the many. That’s not progress. That’s techno-feudalism.

The Service Economy Is Being Hollowed Out

For a long time, people said: “Sure, we’ve lost manufacturing, like we lost farming, but the future is in services.” Teaching, media, admin, design, consulting, creative work, those were the safe paths. That was the story we told ourselves.

But now?

AI can write content, draw pictures, grade papers, analyze contracts, book appointments, manage inventory, monitor emotions, and even write sermons. What we’re starting to see is the gradual erosion of the tertiary sector, the very sector that once held up the middle class. And it’s not a distant future. It’s already here.

Why Housing Matters More Than Ever

In this context, affordable housing is not a side issue. It’s a spiritual one. If people can’t live securely, if they’re constantly being displaced, priced out, or forced into debt just to stay housed, then how can they build community? How can they worship? How can they raise families or plan futures?

We are not disembodied users. We are human beings. We need place. Stability. Roots. Without that, discipleship becomes difficult. Justice becomes abstract. The gospel gets squeezed out by economic anxiety.

We’re Becoming Tenants of the Machine

I don’t say this lightly, but I think we’re entering a kind of digital feudalism. In the old world, peasants worked land they didn’t own, under lords they couldn’t challenge. Today, many of us work jobs we don’t control, using tools we don’t own, to pay for homes we can’t afford, under platforms we can’t question.

We rent our movies. We lease our cars. We subscribe to our tools. We owe our time to gig apps. And the “land” of the internet belongs to a handful of companies who harvest our data in return for access to the digital world.

It’s all incredibly efficient. But the efficiency isn’t for us. It’s for the owners.

What Might Christians Do?

I don’t think the church can ignore this. Not if we’re serious about justice. Not if we believe in incarnation. Not if we care about place and people and peace.

Here are a few places I think we might start.

1. Take Housing Seriously as a Kingdom Issue

Jesus cared about where people lived. The early church shared their homes, not just their beliefs. Today, that could mean supporting housing co-ops, challenging predatory rent models, or even turning church property into community land trusts. Shelter isn’t charity, it’s a right rooted in dignity.

2. Own the Tools, Together

What if the church supported worker-owned businesses or open-source platforms? What if our institutions stopped relying on exploitative tech ecosystems and built ethical alternatives, even when they’re less convenient?

3. Speak Honestly About AI and Work

This isn’t just about job loss. It’s about identity, meaning, and control. What does it mean to be human in a world where machines do what we once found purposeful? What kind of work should Christians champion, not just for profit, but for formation?

4. Recover Jubilee Imagination

Jubilee was a radical reset: debts forgiven, land returned, people freed. What would a modern version look like? Could churches advocate for debt relief, housing justice, or tech regulation rooted not in partisanship but in compassion and liberation?

5. Be the Commons in an Age of Contracts

If everything else in society becomes transactional, the church must become radically relational. A place where people share not just beliefs but meals, tools, time, and trust. A place where you don’t have to pay to belong.

A Different Kind of Kingdom

I don’t think we’re powerless. But I do think we need to wake up.

Techno-feudalism is seductive because it hides itself behind convenience. But convenience is not the same as goodness. And ease is not the same as justice.

As Christians, we follow someone who had no place to lay his head, and yet offered people a home. Someone who taught in parables, not press releases. Someone who called his followers to share what they had, not maximize what they owned.

We don’t need to accept this future.

We can imagine something better.

We can start building it now.