(Navigating Enemy-Built Systems for the Gospel)
Roman Roads: Built for Empire, Co-opted for the Gospel
In the first centuries A.D., the Roman Empire constructed a vast network of roads stretching over 50,000 miles. These highways were engineering marvels of the ancient world—built in straight lines, layered with stone and packed sand, and marked with milestones for distance. The Romans’ primary aim was to unite and control their empire: roads enabled efficient commerce, rapid communication, and swift movement of legions to far-flung frontiers. Imperial couriers could carry messages across the Mediterranean world in days, and soldiers could march up to 20 miles a day on these sturdy roads. In short, Rome built the roads to solidify its power and prosperity.
Yet from the perspective of early Christianity, these same roads became unexpected conduits for a very different kind of kingdom. Jesus Christ was born “in the fullness of time” (Galatians 4:4), at a moment when Roman peace (the Pax Romana) and infrastructure had prepared the way for a new message to travel. The apostles and early missionaries found that the Roman roads allowed them to carry the gospel of Jesus Christ further and faster than would have been possible in earlier eras.
For example, the Apostle Paul took advantage of major Roman highways like the Via Sebaste, the Via Egnatia, and the famed Via Appia in his missionary journeys across Asia Minor, Greece, and eventually to Rome itself. In an age before motor transport, these well-maintained roads meant Paul and others could trek dozens of miles a day to bring the good news to new cities. What the Roman engineers intended for the glory of Caesar, God repurposed for the spread of the gospel of Christ.
Not only did roads facilitate planned missionary efforts, they also spread the faith through ordinary believers. The Roman Empire’s extensive trade routes and safe travel conditions meant Christian merchants, travelers, and refugees all carried their faith “along the road” into new regions.
A history professor notes that while apostles like Paul preached publicly, much of Christianity’s growth happened through regular people sharing the message with neighbors and fellow travelers as they went. In essence, everyday Christian men and women used Rome’s transportation web to “go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature” (Mark 16:15), just as Jesus had commissioned. The result was that within a few generations, Christian communities sprang up in distant provinces far from Judea—often directly along the Roman roads and trade routes that knit the empire together.
Ironically, the same roads built by Roman authorities to exert control were also used to resist Rome’s religious mandates. In the earliest decades, the Roman government was relatively tolerant of Christianity, viewing it as a sect of Judaism. But as the Christian faith grew and converts’ “devotion to Jesus superseded their allegiance to the Empire,” the authorities became alarmed. Emperors like Nero initiated brutal persecutions, determined to root out the new faith. Roman roads then became the avenues of oppression: soldiers and officials traveled quickly to hunt down Christians, enforce Caesar-worship, and publicize edicts against the church. Many believers faced arrest, exile, or martyrdom at the hands of agents who arrived via the imperial highway system.
However, even these nefarious purposes backfired in the long run. When persecution hit, Christians fled using those same efficient roads to escape danger. In Acts 8, after the martyrdom of Stephen in Jerusalem, believers scattered in all directions rather than be captured – and “those who were scattered went everywhere preaching the word” (Acts 8:4). What looked like a strategy to destroy the church actually pushed the gospel outward into new territories. This great diaspora of persecuted Christians carried the message of Christ to places it had never been, effectively turning Roman roads into highways of hope.
One Christian travel chronicle observes that the believers who fled Nero’s crackdowns were able to travel “quickly and efficiently” thanks to the safe Roman roads, and as they settled in new regions, they spread the faith even more widely. In other words, the empire’s own infrastructure, meant to strengthen pagan rule, became the vehicle by which an “all nations” faith could take root across the world.
Early Christian writers marveled at this providence. It was one of history’s great ironies that a cruel, pagan empire unwittingly “fertilized” the growth of the very movement it tried to suppress. Rome built roads to move armies; God used those roads to move missionaries. The authorities sent soldiers to stop the gospel; instead, their efforts scattered seeds of truth into new soil.
As one commentator noted, the evil intentions of God’s enemies never thwart His plan—rather, they become a highway for it. Just as Joseph told his brothers in Genesis, “But as for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good” (Genesis 50:20), so the early church experienced God’s redemptive turnabout. Every path meant for harm was transformed into an avenue for salvation. The followers of Jesus learned to navigate roads built by their enemies and to use them for God’s glory.
The Modern AI Movement: Digital Roads to the Beast System
Just as the Roman Empire constructed an intricate system of physical roads to advance its own agenda, modern society is constructing a digital highway system through artificial intelligence (AI). This infrastructure is not merely a neutral development—it is, in many ways, nefarious in design and trajectory. Governments and global corporations are investing heavily in AI for surveillance, control, propaganda, and manipulation. Facial recognition, behavioral tracking, predictive algorithms, and centralized digital identification systems are no longer the stuff of science fiction—they are unfolding before our eyes. It is becoming increasingly clear that AI will play a key role in the technological framework of the future beast system described in Revelation 13: a system that will monitor, regulate, and coerce humanity into allegiance with a global power.
For discerning believers, this raises alarms. And rightly so. Scripture warns us of a coming world system where “no one may buy or sell except one who has the mark or the name of the beast” (Revelation 13:17). Many of the very tools being developed today—AI-driven commerce, biometric IDs, smart cities, and mass data collection—are laying the groundwork for that system. The infrastructure being built is not random; it is calculated, coordinated, and increasingly godless. AI is already being used to distort truth, mimic spiritual experiences through deepfakes and synthetic voices, and even generate false images of so-called messiahs. Make no mistake: these are the digital roads of an antichrist kingdom.
And yet, just as early Christians learned to navigate the Roman roads built by their enemies, we too must learn how to walk wisely on the modern digital highways—fully aware of their origin and trajectory, yet undeterred in our mission. The Roman roads were used to hunt, arrest, and execute Christians. But those same roads also carried Paul’s letters, transported evangelists, and enabled the church to grow across the known world. The evil purpose of the infrastructure did not negate its usefulness for the Kingdom.
The same is true of AI today. Though we may rightly identify its role in the beast system, that does not mean we must abandon it entirely. Instead, we must engage with great discernment, knowing the hour is late and opportunities are brief. Just as the early church did not idolize Roman innovations nor retreat from them in fear, we are called to redeem the time and occupy until Christ comes (Luke 19:13). AI is a tool—though forged in Babylon, it can still be wielded in Zion.
Even now, believers are using AI to accelerate Bible translation, equip underground churches, answer questions from seekers online, and create gospel-centered media that reaches digital generations. These uses do not sanctify the infrastructure but rather subvert it for a greater purpose. We do not put our faith in these tools, nor do we assume they are safe. But like soldiers behind enemy lines, we use the terrain available to us to complete the mission.
Some Christians will feel compelled to avoid AI entirely, and that is a matter of conscience. But for those of us who recognize its prophetic implications and still choose to engage, we must not do so in ignorance or compromise but with full awareness and strategic intent. We are not embracing AI because it is good—we are infiltrating it because the message we carry is eternal. If the world is building roads for the Antichrist, then let us be the ones who walk those roads with the message of the true Christ.
Let us not forget that every technological innovation has been used for both good and evil. The printing press that spread the Reformation also printed heresy. The radio that broadcast revival also propagated propaganda. The Internet that opened the world to truth also became a cesspool of depravity. AI is no different. What matters is not only who builds the tool but who uses it—and for what purpose.
In the days ahead, the pressure to conform to the system will grow. The road will become narrower. But until the Lord removes us, we are here for a reason. We are Watchers and Warriors—tasked not with hiding from technology but with redeeming every tool we can to proclaim the truth. The Roman roads could not stop the gospel, and neither will artificial intelligence. The gospel is not chained (2 Timothy 2:9), and it will travel even the darkest roads to reach the hearts that God has prepared.
Stay Awake! Keep Watch!
Prophecy Recon | Bible Prophecy & Current Events
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