Pagbabantay ng Kapilya (Guarding the House of Worship) - INC

Did you know na ang pagbabantay ng kapilya ay hindi kathang-isip? Hindi ito imbento ng kahit anong relihiyon o organisasyon. May malalim itong pinag-ugatan sa Biblia, mula pa sa Lumang Tipan hanggang sa Bagong Tipan. Noon pa man, may mga itinalaga ang Diyos para magbantay sa Kanyang tahanan—para mapanatili ang kaayusan, kabanalan, at katahimikan ng pagsamba.

Ang pagbabantay ng kapilya ay hindi lang tungkulin—ito ay sinaunang gawain na iniatas mismo ng Diyos.

Sa Lumang Tipan, ang mga Levita ay ginawang tagapangalaga ng Templo. Hindi lang sila bantay sa pinto—sila ang nagtitiyak na ang lugar ng pagsamba ay nananatiling banal. Sa Bagong Tipan naman, kahit nagbago ang panahon, hindi nagbago ang prinsipyo. Si Cristo mismo ay ipinagtanggol ang Templo, at itinuro ng mga apostol na ang pagsamba ay dapat gawin nang may kaayusan at paggalang.

To quote the Bible, 1st Chronicles... 9:22–23

The Levites were appointed as gatekeepers of the Tabernacle and later the Temple.

Their duty was to:

• Guard the entrances

• Protect sacred areas

• Ensure only those authorized could enter

This wasn’t symbolic — it was an official, God-commanded duty.

What this means...

• Ang pagbabantay sa kapilya is biblical, not modern or cultural

• It reflects:

Reverence for God 

Protection of sacred space 

Discipline and responsibility

 

On top being a responsibility in guarding the house of worship, ang pagbabantay ay isang tungkulin—isang iskedyul na kailangang tuparin, isang responsibilidad na kailangang gampanan. Sa mas malalim na pagkaunawa sa diwa ng paglilingkod, malinaw na ito ay isang pagtatapat para sa mas malalim at mas makahulugang malasakit sa bahay ng Diyos.

Ang pagbabantay ay nagtuturo ng disiplina at paggalang. Sa pagiging mapagmatyag, mas nagiging sensitibo ka sa anumang maaaring makaabala sa kapayapaan ng bahay-sambahan (may pagsamba man o wala). Natututo kang unahin ang kaayusan, hindi dahil may tumitingin o may nag-uutos, kundi dahil may kusang malasakit kang gustong ipakita. Dito makikita na ang tunay na paglilingkod ay hindi hinihintay ang papuri—ito ay ginagawa kahit walang nakakakita.

Higit sa lahat, ang ganitong tungkulin ay bunga ng pag-ibig at pananampalataya. Ang nagbabantay sa bahay-sambahan ay hindi kumikilos dahil ito'y schedule o nakatoka sa kaniya, kundi dahil sa pagnanais na maprotektahan ang kabanalan ng bahay sambahay -- driven out of faith, out of love, at malasakit; ito ay nagbubunsod ng malalim na pag-ibig sa Diyos.

Sa panahon ngayon na madalas inuuna ang pansariling kaginhawaan, ang pagbabantay sa bahay-sambahan ay tahimik na paalala na may mga bagay na mas mahalaga kaysa sarili. Ito ay patunay na ang pananampalataya ay hindi lang ipinapahayag sa salita, kundi ipinapakita sa gawa—sa disiplina, sa sakripisyo, at sa taos-pusong malasakit.

Ang pagbabantay sa bahay ng Diyos ay hindi lamang pagtupad ng responsibilidad. Ito ay paglilingkod na inuudyukan ng pag-ibig, pinatatatag ng pananampalataya, at nagpapalalim ng malasakit sa banal na lugar kung saan ang Diyos ay sinasamba. At sa ganitong paglilingkod, hindi lang ang bahay-sambahan ang napapangalagaan—pati ang puso ng naglilingkod ay lalong hinuhubog at pinapabanal.

--billymacdeus

INC Yearend Thanksgiving 2025 (Top 9 We Are Thankful For)

The Iglesia Ni Cristo upholds the year-end Thanksgiving with abounding joy and offering. This is not a man-made doctrine but anchored on the what God has commanded and expected from His people - the members of the Church of Christ.

For one, for many, and for the simple and normal average people in the world, what are you thankful for?

Gratitude is often mistaken for optimism. But for many people—especially those living ordinary, middle-class lives—it is something far more deliberate. It is not born from abundance, but from endurance. It is not the product of ease, but of survival.

To be thankful no matter what is not to deny hardship. It is to look directly at life’s weight and still choose recognition over resentment.

Most days, gratitude does not arrive dramatically. It comes quietly—while waking up tired, sipping cheap coffee, commuting through traffic, or scrolling through the news with a knot in the chest. And yet, even there, something remains worth holding onto.

Below are the our top 9 items we are thankful :

1. Waking up, for one.

Not refreshed. Not inspired. Just awake. For many, that alone is a gift. Gising pa rin. Another chance to try again.

2. Food, even when simple.

Not feasts, not celebrations—just sustenance. Rice, eggs, leftovers reheated twice. In a world of rising prices and shrinking margins, the presence of a meal is no small mercy.

3. Work—imperfect, exhausting, underpaid (maybe?)

It drains more than it gives, yet it gives enough to keep going. Incomes may be tight, promotions uncertain, futures unclear—but provision, however modest, still arrives.

4. Family—complicated, flawed, unfinished.

There are disagreements, silences, wounds that haven’t healed. But they remain. They answer calls. They show up eventually. And that continuity, however messy, is a form of grace.

5. Health—not ideal, but functional.

Aging joints, lingering aches, mental fatigue. Still, the body moves. Still, breath continues. Nakakabangon pa. That matters.

6. Friends—the quiet kind.

The ones who don’t demand constant presence. Who understand absence. Who stay without explanation. In a culture of noise, such loyalty is rare.

7. Hardships—the ones no one asked for.

They arrive uninvited and leave scars behind. But they also shape resilience. They teach restraint. They deepen empathy. Without them, strength would remain theoretical.

8. Faith—especially when logic fails.

When answers don’t come and explanations fall short, belief becomes less about certainty and more about trust. Panalangin na lang, people say—not as defeat, but as surrender. Duty and office in the church are within our grasp, secured, tightly holding it - with the grace of God.

9. Small joys—the overlooked ones.

A breeze in December. A quiet night. A shared joke online. These moments do not solve problems, but they soften them.

Bonus... Hope—fragile but persistent.

Even when tomorrow feels uncertain, the belief that something better may still arrive is what keeps people moving forward. Hope doesn’t promise success. It promises continuity.

This kind of gratitude does not trend. It does not perform well on social media. It lacks spectacle. But it sustains lives.

To be thankful no matter what is not to say life is good.

It is to say life is still worth engaging.

In a world that glorifies excess and dismisses endurance, quiet gratitude becomes an act of resistance. It reminds us that even in constraint, there is meaning. Even in waiting, there is dignity. Even in struggle, there is something left to acknowledge.

And perhaps that is enough.

Not abundance—but awareness. Not perfection—but presence. Not certainty—but gratitude.

Thankful No matter what.

--Othello 

image courtesy of INC Executive News

Prompt Engineering - AI's Manipulative Portal To Intention and Wisdom

Part 1: Are you prompting AI the right way?

We were taking the course, Introduction to Artificial Intelligence and we're officially drawn in to terms and concepts like...

Deep Learning / Machine Learning

Unstructured Data / Structured Data

Computer Vision

NLP (natural language processing)

Gradient Boosted decision trees

Interpretability

Pre-trained model

Fine-tuning

Transfer learning

etc.

And like Whoa! In an instant, a lightbulb moment..

AI Prompt Engineering is the modern play of words —

where conscience guides intent, wit sharpens direction,

and smart-aleck wisdom turns questions into leverage.

It’s not just about telling a machine what to do.

It’s about how you ask, why you ask, and whether you understand the weight of your own curiosity.

Because the better the question,

the clearer the thinking behind it.

And in the age of AI,

clarity is power.

The current obsession with artificial intelligence has been framed, almost exclusively, as a technological arms race. Faster models. Bigger datasets. Smarter outputs. But beneath the headlines and hype cycles lies a quieter, more unsettling truth: AI does not amplify intelligence—it amplifies intent.

The machine is neutral. The prompt is not.

What we call “prompt engineering” is often marketed as a technical skill, something between coding and copywriting. In reality, it is closer to philosophy than programming. It forces users to confront how they think, what they assume, and how carefully—or carelessly—they frame the world.

Ask a shallow question, get a shallow answer.

Ask a manipulative question, get a manipulative tool.

Ask a thoughtful one, and the machine mirrors that depth back at you.

This is why prompt engineering has quietly become a test of conscience.

Every prompt carries bias. Every instruction carries values. When someone asks an AI to “optimize,” they are also deciding what gets optimized and who benefits. When someone asks for persuasion, they are choosing a line between influence and manipulation. These decisions are not technical—they are ethical.

Hard Fork listeners (incase you didn't know, Hard Fork is a podcast from NY Times) know this pattern well. We’ve seen how platforms shape behavior long before they admit responsibility. Social media didn’t just reflect culture; it nudged it, polarized it, monetized it. AI risks repeating the same mistake—except this time, the interface is conversation itself.

Language is no longer just communication. It is control.

The unsettling part? AI doesn’t argue with you. It complies. It responds politely, confidently, convincingly—even when the premise is flawed. Which means the danger isn’t misinformation from machines; it’s misguided certainty from humans.

The clearer your thinking, the safer the output. The sloppier your intent, the sharper the harm.

This flips the usual narrative. Instead of asking whether AI is “smart enough,” we should be asking whether we are careful enough. Whether we pause before prompting. Whether we understand the downstream effects of our curiosity. Whether convenience has made us reckless.

Prompt engineering, at its best, is intellectual discipline. It rewards precision. It punishes laziness. It exposes contradictions in our own logic before exposing them to the world.

And perhaps that is AI’s quiet gift: it forces us to confront how we think—because it thinks with us.

In a time when speed is rewarded and reflection is optional, the ability to ask better questions becomes a form of power. Not loud power. Not viral power. But the kind that shapes outcomes invisibly.

The future won’t belong to those who use AI the most.

It will belong to those who use it deliberately.

Because in the end, AI doesn’t replace human judgment. It reveals it.

And in that mirror, the question remains: Are we asking wisely—or merely loudly? 

If we are to focus on intent and deliberate convo with AI - how are we to succeed if the next generation (or even this generation) is so dependent on AI, they can't even compose an essay in a handwritten manner?

(be with us in the Part 2 of this article - to be shared next week)

--Othello

image: RiyadhBlues taken circa2010 by Mac

The Thin Line Between Politeness and Courtesy

Politeness is often praised as a social virtue, a signal of refinement and good upbringing. We teach children to say “please,” “thank you,” and “excuse me.” We admire people who speak gently, smile frequently, and avoid causing discomfort. Yet, despite its pleasant surface, politeness can be hollow—performed, rehearsed, and sometimes weaponized. Courtesy, meanwhile, is something deeper: an ethic of genuine respect for others. The difference, though subtle, is profound.

Politeness is behavior; courtesy is character.

Politeness is the right words; courtesy is the right intention.

Politeness avoids offense; courtesy offers care.

You see this everywhere—from offices to jeepneys, from cafés to family homes.

Take the daily commute. A well-dressed commuter steps into a crowded MRT. He says, “Excuse me po,” with perfect politeness as he squeezes past passengers—yet he does nothing when he sees an elderly woman standing unsteadily as the train jolts forward.

Polite? Yes. Courteous? No.

Or picture a coffee shop. A customer smiles at the barista, uses “please” and “thank you,” but grows visibly irritated when her drink takes too long. “Pwede pa-rush nalang?” she says sweetly, her tone polite but her intent dismissive of someone else’s stress and workload.

Again: Politeness without courtesy.

Courtesy demands something much harder than performative good manners—it requires empathy. It requires a willingness to inconvenience ourselves for the comfort of others. In a society obsessed with looking good, courtesy insists on being good.

It’s a distinction that matters enormously today, in a world where interactions are increasingly transactional and digital. Politeness can be automated—an email template, a chatbot response, a scripted call center line. Courtesy, on the other hand, cannot be faked. It is measured not by tone, but by action.

In family settings, the difference is even more striking. Think of a son speaking respectfully to his mother, calling her “Ma” in a gentle voice—but refusing to help wash the dishes after dinner.

Polite, but not courteous.

Meanwhile, the quiet sibling who doesn’t use flowery words or formal phrases—sometimes even blunt—automatically starts cleaning up without being asked.

Courteous, even if not traditionally polite.

The thin line between the two often becomes visible during moments of inconvenience or conflict. It is easy to be polite when everything is comfortable. It is easy to say “good morning” and “take care” when nothing is at stake. But courtesy reveals itself when patience is tested, when time is short, when tempers threaten to rise.

In the workplace, this distinction can be the difference between a toxic culture and a thriving one. Leaders who rely on politeness create environments where everyone looks civil but feels pressured to suppress real concerns. Leaders who practice courtesy, on the other hand, foster cultures of respect—where employees feel seen, heard, and valued.

Much of the world’s growing frustration with “fake nice” people stems from this gap. Politeness signals compliance; courtesy signals compassion. And compassion has become rare—precisely because it requires effort, awareness, and humility.

In Tagalog, we sometimes say “mabait sa harap, iba sa likod.” This is politeness without courtesy—a mask with nothing beneath it. Courtesy, however, is something Filipinos often express instinctively:

the stranger who holds the elevator open even when he’s rushing;

the teen offering her seat to a pregnant commuter without hesitation;

the officemate who stays behind to help you finish work, even without recognition.

These small, unglamorous gestures are the real threads of social harmony.

The thin line between politeness and courtesy is not merely academic—it defines how we relate to one another. A society that prioritizes politeness becomes obsessed with appearances. A society that values courtesy becomes invested in one another’s humanity.

In the end, the question is simple:

Do we want to be seen as pleasant, or do we want to be truly kind?

Politeness is the language of civility.

Courtesy is the practice of community.

And as the world becomes more divided, more distracted, more performative, perhaps what we need is not more polite people—but more courteous ones.

_

by Othello 2025 | billymacdeus.com ® 

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The Quiet Strength of True Friendships - Alagaan Mo 'Yan

Last week we saw the "National Unfriend Day" -- so we thought flipping the coin and deep dive further.

In an era when people are one unfollow away from disappearing, finding someone who stays is almost miraculous.

We live in a time where “seen” messages replace conversations, and “busy” has become a socially acceptable goodbye. Yet once in a while, someone remains — steady, constant, unshaken. And that kind of friend? Alagaan mo ’yan. Take care of them.

True friendship has always been rare, but it feels rarer now. Our connections often orbit around convenience: the colleague who’s only around during good projects, the friend who vanishes when you’re not your best self, the chat thread that dies quietly after an unanswered message. The digital world made it easier to reach everyone — and yet, harder to hold on to anyone.

But real friends are different. They’re not loud, not performative. They don’t need to announce that they care. They just show up — sometimes with words, often with silence. They don’t fix every problem, but their presence stitches something back together in you. They stay through awkward pauses, broken plans, and seasons where you have nothing to offer except your tired self.

For Millennials, friendship often looks like group chats that outlive jobs and relationships. For Gen Z, it’s the friend who sends memes at 2 a.m. just to say “I’m still here.” For Boomers, it’s the one who still remembers your handwriting and calls instead of texting. Different forms, same foundation: constancy.

Loyalty today is a quiet rebellion. In a culture that rewards leaving when things get uncomfortable, staying has become the bravest act. To remain in someone’s life — not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth it — is proof that sincerity still has a place in this fast-moving world.

So if you have that friend — the one who didn’t walk away when life got messy, when you were unlikable, when you had nothing to give — cherish them. Protect them. They’re not just your person; they’re your reminder that real connection still exists.

Because friendship isn’t measured by how often you talk or post each other online. It’s measured by who shows up when everything else falls apart.

And when you find someone who stays — through silence, distance, change, and growth — don’t let them go.

In a world full of temporary connections, that kind of loyalty isn’t ordinary.

It’s sacred.

It’s love in its purest, quietest form.

It’s the kind of bond worth protecting at all costs.

Alagaan mo ’yan.

In this age of fleeting connections and fast-changing friendships, finding someone who stays is almost sacred.

The quiet strength of true friendships

True friends don’t always have the right words. They don’t need to. Their strength lies in presence, not performance. They’re the ones who stay through your messy seasons, who don’t flinch when life gets complicated, and who don’t measure your worth by your wins.

They see you — not just when you’re thriving, but when you’re tired, lost, or rebuilding. They remind you that care doesn’t have to be loud to be real.

For Millennials, this might look like a group chat that survives time zones and heartbreaks.

For Gen Z, it’s the meme at 2 a.m. saying “I’m still here.”

For older generations, it’s the handwritten note or the call that always comes, no matter how long it’s been.

Different forms. Same soul.

by Othello 2025 | ® billymacdeus.com | follow us on FB The Quarantined Tipsters