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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