PIVOT!

“Pivot! Pivot! Pivot!”

Even if you’ve never watched every episode of Friends, there’s a good chance you know the scene.

Ross has bought a new couch and is determined to manoeuvre it up the narrow staircase to his apartment. Rachel and Chandler are doing the heavy lifting while Ross, standing in perhaps the least helpful position imaginable, keeps shouting the same instruction.

“Pivot!” They pivot.

“Pivot!” They pivot again.

“PIVOT!”

Eventually frustration wins, the couch becomes hopelessly wedged in the stairwell and everyone loses their patience. The scene has become one of television’s most enduring moments because it’s funny precisely because it’s so familiar. We’ve all experienced situations where simply shouting the same instruction louder doesn’t solve the problem.

Sometimes the obstacle isn’t our effort. It’s our approach.

Everywhere you look, organisations are talking about “pivoting”. Entire industries are trying to work out what artificial intelligence means for the future. The word has become one of the defining verbs of our age. But I think there’s an important distinction between changing direction and simply panicking.

For many people, AI has arrived like an oversized couch in a very narrow stairwell. We know something has changed and we know we can’t keep doing everything exactly as we have before. And yet we’re not entirely sure what the next move should be.

The temptation is to grip the couch even tighter, double down on old ways of working and become more protective of familiar routines. We assume the answer is simply to work harder, but you can’t do more with more – see The Joey Tribbianni Productivity Plan – it’s not humanly possible.

I think sometimes the way forward requires a different angle altogether.

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History suggests this isn’t a new problem. The industrial revolution transformed physical labour and the internet transformed information. But the biggest disruptor has been smart phones because they fundamentally transformed the way we communicate. Each of these innovations created understandable anxiety before becoming woven into everyday life.

AI may prove to be another of those moments with jobs disappearing and others changing dramatically. Many roles we haven’t even imagined yet will emerge. The challenge has never simply been to learning a new piece of software. It’s a fundamental change in learning new ways of thinking.

One of the most valuable skills in the coming decade may not be technical expertise alone but adaptability. The willingness to learn, be curious and to experiment and to admit that yesterday’s assumptions may not be enough for tomorrow’s challenges.

Ironically, that’s something the Christian story has always understood. The Bible is full of people who had to pivot: The disciples literally left secure livelihoods to follow a teacher who rarely explained the itinerary.

Even the early church had to rethink deeply held assumptions as the gospel spread beyond the Jewish community. Faith has never been about standing still, it has always involved faithful movement.

We should all be asking thoughtful questions about AI, including its impact on creativity, employment, education, truth and human dignity, because technology reflects the values of the people who design and use it.

In a world increasingly measuring efficiency, optimisation and automation, the gospel quietly insists that people aren’t valuable because they’re productive. They’re valuable because they’re loved. That’s a radically different starting point. It also changes how we think about work.

For generations we’ve often tied our identity closely to our occupation. We don’t simply ask, “What do you do?” We often mean, “Who are you?”

Yet AI is forcing many people to separate those questions.

So we need to be curious and ask questions. If some tasks become automated, what remains uniquely human?

I can list many uniquely human qualities: Compassion, wisdom, discernment, creativity, presence, listening, encouragement, moral judgement and community.

These aren’t incidental skills. They’re increasingly becoming our greatest contribution. AI won’t diminish our humanity if it pushes us to rediscover it.

The same may be true for churches. Congregations don’t need to compete with artificial intelligence for information. AI can summarise theology, generate Bible studies and explain historical background in seconds but it can’t do is baptise someone or sit beside a grieving family. It can’t share communion, forgive or embody grace.

The church’s calling has never primarily been information transfer. It has always been incarnation – people encountering God’s love through other people.

That’s something no algorithm can automate.

Maybe Ross’s famous staircase offers an unexpected lesson after all. The goal wasn’t to shout “pivot” more loudly. The goal was to recognise that the situation required a different perspective.

That’s true for organisations and workplaces wrestling with technological change. It’s true for churches discerning how to serve faithfully in a rapidly changing culture.

And it’s true for each of us.

There are times when life places an awkward, oversized couch squarely in front of us. We can exhaust ourselves trying to force it through the old doorway, or we can pause long enough to ask whether God might be inviting us to see the staircase differently.

The future won’t belong to those who simply resist change, nor will it belong to those who embrace every innovation uncritically.

It will belong to those who can pivot with wisdom, remain curious while holding tightly to what matters most and remain open to what may be coming next.