World, say hello to Siri. She’s the hottest little number on the block, and if you haven’t met her yet, you will. She’s the perky little lass who chats with you on your Apple iPhone 4S. The engineers designed this nonliving, nonbreathing “person” to be quirky and clever. In addition, the gal even has a weird sense of humor. She fascinates folks so much that they will choose to stand in a long line for hours on a Sunday afternoon just to purchase the phone and hear her voice.
I’m told Siri can carry on a reasonably intelligent conversation with a bored owner of an iPhone 4S. When asked, she can give directions to the nearest drug store. She can advise you when it’s going to rain and when to carry an umbrella. She can warn you of gridlock on the highways on which you are driving. Should you lock yourself out of your home, she will direct you to the three nearest neighborhood locksmith shops. And if you tell her to, she will remind you to feed the dog when you get home from work.
As knowledgeable and sassy as she may be, Siri doesn’t hold the honor of being a partner in the first wireless conversation in human history. And if you were to guess the names Thomas Edison or Alexander Graham Bell, you’d be wrong. In the 1880s both men did invent the first-known human-designed wireless conversation tools. One created a photophone and the other devised signals transmitted along the Lehigh Valley Railroad.
To uncover the earliest wireless communication, one must go back 6,000 years to the moment the first woman and the first man lost their face-to-face connection with their Creator. Loving them too much to brush them into an oversized dustpan and then move on to His next creative project, the Father established the first mode of wireless communication—one that is so high-tech, it constantly blows my mind. It’s called prayer, and the results are instantaneous.
“Before they call I will answer; while they are still speaking I will hear” (Isa. 65:24). That scriptural gem has proven to be the ultimate wireless communication program, one that responds to mere thoughts and words not yet spoken. Sorry, Siri—not even you can do that.
And the system is still fully functional today. It doesn’t need new apps or fancy upgrades. Better yet, the Creator promises automatic tech support 24/7. I can tell Him anything, and He hears me. There have been so many times I’ve called Him and He’s rescued me from imminent danger. When I’ve been lost, He’s helped me find my way home. When I feel cold or lonely, He’s warmed me, quieted me, and rejoiced over me with singing (Zeph. 3:17). His response isn’t canned, either—it’s live, late-breaking, and up-to-the-minute.
Don’t feel bad, Siri; you truly are an incredible invention, and I kind of like you. But you do have your limitations.
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Kay Rizzo has authored more than 50 books along with more than 1,000 articles. She lives with Richard, her husband and business partner, in California’s Central Valley. Her greatest treasures include her hubby of more than 45 years, two daughters, two sons-in law, two grandsons, and a cat named Pepsi. This article was published March 15, 2012.
