Fake News & Social Media Bias Are Platforms of Misinformation!

When discussing misinformation today, two main issues often come up: fake news and social media bias. They are connected, but they work differently and have different effects. Fake news is false information made to deceive. It spreads quickly. A single false story can go viral in minutes, influencing opinions, elections, and public safety. It’s emotionally driven, sensational, and dramatic, which makes people share it. Fake news is powerful, but its influence is usually brief and intense. 

Social-media bias functions differently. It’s usually not about lies but about which truths, half-truths, and opinions the platform promotes. Algorithms favor content that keeps us engaged, and engagement tends to lean toward extremes, emotion, and familiarity. Over time, this creates echo chambers—spaces where people mostly encounter ideas they already agree with. This affects what we notice, what we overlook, and what we perceive as normal. If fake news is like a lightning strike, social-media bias is like the climate. One is sudden; the other is ongoing. Because it’s continuous, social media bias generally has a greater long-term impact. It determines which stories gain prominence, which fade away, and ultimately, which falsehoods have the chance to spread. 

So, where does that leave us with the idea of truth? Truth isn’t confined to a single publication, platform, or political group. Instead, it shines through when information passes three important tests: cross-checking, transparency, and a variety of perspectives. When different sources, especially those with differing views, still come together and agree on certain facts, those are the ones most likely to be true. So, the real question isn’t just “Which is worse?”

The key question is: how can we safeguard our capacity to discover the truth? The answer begins with awareness, recognizing how fake news can impact us instantly and how social media bias can influence us over time. Fake news distorts events, while social-media bias warps reality. Ultimately, truth is what remains after both are questioned. 

Have a Peaceful & Stress-Free Thanksgiving!

    I always wondered how my mom handled Thanksgiving like a pro. Every year, without fail, she seemed to glide through the chaos of the holiday with a calm efficiency that felt almost magical. She would prepare so many dinner items—turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, yams, greens, pies, breads, and things I can barely remember now—enough food to feed at least six people at the table and still have plenty left over. And it wasn’t just leftovers for us. My mom always made sure there was extra to take to neighbors or to give to the lonely seniors in our community who didn’t have anyone to celebrate with. She never made a big deal about it; she simply packed up plates, covered them in foil, and had us deliver them with a warm smile, as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

    Now I find myself doing the same thing. It’s funny—or maybe it’s inevitable—how we tend to inherit the habits of those who raised us. I never set out with a grand plan to copy her traditions, but over the years, I noticed that I was shopping for the same ingredients, using the same oversized pots, and somehow ending up with the same overflowing countertops. And when my wife sees someone who might be spending the holiday alone, I can hear her voice softly urging me to make just a little extra. So I do. I cook, I package, I share. Part of me hopes I’m honoring her memory; another part suspects I’m only now beginning to really understand the quiet, generous rhythm of her heart. 

    I often think that those who are truly blessed might feel inspired to share with others—not because they have to, but because they genuinely feel thankful. It seems like a heartfelt way to express appreciation, reminding us that abundance isn’t just for ourselves. Perhaps blessings increase when they’re shared freely. My mother always believed that kindness tends to multiply, even when no one is looking. I’m starting to see what she meant and truly appreciate her love and wisdom. Keep the peace this year, you never know if you'll see the same people back at your table the next year. Remember that we are blessed to break bread together in memory of those who are gone before us.

    What I do know is that two days before Thanksgiving, I am exhausted. Completely, undeniably exhausted. My feet ache, my back complains, and I find myself questioning whether I’ve taken on too much yet again. But even as I stand in the kitchen surrounded by dishes, timers, and grocery bags, I can’t help but feel a quiet warmth settle in. This is the same tiredness my mother must have felt each year, the same mixture of stress and satisfaction. And somehow, that makes the exhaustion feel worth it. It connects me to her, to the people I cook for, and to the spirit of the holiday itself—a reminder that giving, even when it wears you out, can fill you in ways nothing else can. 

    Thanksgiving is an ongoing celebration. Every day ought to be a day of gratitude, acknowledging the blessings and grace Jesus has bestowed upon us. I am blessed with a wise and understanding wife.  Indeed, the occasion of Thanksgiving should serve as a reminder that the Coming of the Lord is imminent. The Advent season prepares us for the renewed presence of Emmanuel. This message does not pertain to the commercially driven Christmas but instead emphasizes salvation and the coming of the Savior of the World.

Final Judgement!

Reflecting on my Final Judgment, I did so with deep thought and heartfelt sincerity. I wondered if, when I kneel before Jesus, He will see me as faithful. I longed to be among those He accepts, but I have often felt so weak throughout my life. It’s only by God's divine grace that I can face my challenges. I had many questions about what my final scenario might look like, even turning to AI to understand its concept of God and its perception of humanity’s final fate from a nonhuman perspective. Keep in mind that these questions are only a guess at what the Judge would ask us. Our thoughts or actions are not aligned with God’s. We don’t have a clue. You can replace any of these questions with your own. This is my method of demonstrating that it is never too late to seek salvation and redemption. Remember, this session will determine the separation of goats and sheep, as well as our ultimate destination: heaven, hell, or purgatory.

Let’s begin.

You stand in a great stillness—no wind, no shadows, only a light that feels both like morning and eternity. It isn’t harsh. It isn’t blinding. It seems to move through you rather than around you, uncovering everything gently, like someone lifting veils you didn’t realize you wore.

And then you sense Him. 

It's not just a figure, a throne, or a spectacle; it's a profound sense of Presence. The One who created galaxies with a single word now seems to speak straight to your heart. His voice isn't loud and thunderous but gentle and full of truth, like a caring father calling to his child. He begins not with accusation, but with a question. The kind that seems to echo through your entire life at once. 

“Whom did you love above all?” 

            Your memories gently emerge like a soft mist, reminding you of what you chased, treasured, and clung to when everything else faded away. You recall Jesus’ words, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart...” and feel the question seep even deeper: Did your heart ever truly try to make space for Me? Another question follows, gentle but penetrating. 

“How did you treat the people I placed in your path?” 

            Faces appear—some you loved easily, some you struggled with, some you barely noticed. He isn’t tallying your kindness or your failures. Jesus is asking whether you ever saw Him in “the least of these,” just as He said you would. 

Any regrets?

Regrets often linger quietly in the corners of your memory—reminding us of words we left unspoken, opportunities we missed, or choices we'd like to change. They teach you, sometimes painfully, about your true values and deepest desires. While regrets can feel burdensome, they also hold wisdom: revealing who you are, who you're becoming, and how you want to proceed differently. Facing them honestly allows regrets to become guides rather than weights, helping you live intentionally with the time and opportunities you have left. Did I learn anything? 

Was it worth the price of your soul to protect those who did wrong for the sake of wealth? 

When someone sacrifices their integrity to protect wrongdoers, especially for money, the result often feels empty. Money may shield the body, but it can't quiet the mind or mend the inner cracks. What is preserved outwardly usually costs dearly inwardly — peace, dignity, and self-respect. Ultimately, wealth can be spent, lost, or forgotten, but the choices that influence the soul linger much longer. The real question isn't whether it was worth it, but what remains once temporary gains fade, and if one can restore what was given away. No matter what we have accumulated in life, we cannot take it with us in death. 

“Did you walk in the truth you were given?” 

            Not the truth you wished you had, or the truth you avoided, but the truth you knew. “To whom much is given, much will be required.” You sense that God is not measuring you against others, but only against the light that touched your own life. 

This was a question you had never considered before. Honestly? You’ve told many lies, so it’s hard to say. Even if you knew the truth you were given, you didn’t remember that whenever you lied. You see Jesus write something down in the Book of Life, once again. Please, Lord, no more questions.  You’re wondering if it would be better to look at videos of your secret indiscretions and decided to stick with the questions. What can you hide from God? He nodded and smiled with loving kindness. 

“What did you do with the gifts I entrusted to you?” 

Your talents, your time, your chances to bless or to build. You see moments where you used them well, and others where you buried them in fear, distraction, or pride. He does not scold. He asks as a father who remembers every seed He placed in His child’s hands.

Then the light seems to draw closer, resting tenderly on the deepest places of your heart. 

“Did your outward life reflect an inward change?” 

            You recall how Scripture says the Lord looks at the heart. Not the appearance. Not the reputation. What you truly desired. Why did you do what you did? What you clung to, and what you surrendered. 

And then, with surprising tenderness, Jesus asked.

“When you failed, and you did, did you seek My counsel?”  

You remember moments of repentance and moments of stubbornness. Yet the tone of the question is warm, as if He is reminding you that He always waited, always listened, always stood ready to forgive. “If we confess our sins…” echoes softly. 

Then comes a question that feels like the foundation beneath every other one. 

“Did you ever trust Me?” 

            Not just believe in My existence, but entrust Me with your fears, your wounds, your hopes, your eternity. Your soul recalls the truth. “Without faith it is impossible to please God.” That’s when I remembered, will Jesus find someone who is faithful when He returns? 

Finally, His voice becomes like a quiet river running through every moment of your life.  

“Did My grace and mercy change you?” 

            Did you hear about it, or did it truly impact you? Did you embrace it, or try to fight against it? Did you allow My love to break chains, soften your heart, and guide you? Make you new? You stand there, not condemned, but known, fully, finally, lovingly known. 

And in that moment, you understand the judgment of God is not just a verdict, but a revealing, a bringing to light of who you truly became in the presence of His truth, His mercy, and His grace. 

The light around you deepens—not brighter, but fuller, like a warmth spreading through the coldest corners of your soul. It is then that you realize the questions were never meant to expose you to shame, but to reveal the truth of your own story, the story God has watched unfold from the first beat of your heart.

Jesus moves closer. Not with steps, there is no ground here, no horizon, just the unmistakable drawing of a Presence whose nearness feels like healing, like home. And then Jesus asks one more question, softer than all the others.

 

“Did you ever believe that I love Me?” 

 

The words settle over you like a warm blanket on a cold night.

You remember moments when you felt unworthy, when you pulled away, when you carried wounds you thought too broken to show Him. But you also remember moments when His peace slipped quietly into your fear, when His forgiveness washed over your failures, when His grace lifted you from depths you could not climb alone. You feel the truth. His love was always there, constant, patient, pursuing.

 

The light gathers around you, and with it comes a sense of being wrapped, embraced, seen without any fragment of yourself hidden or misunderstood. The weight of your life—its joys, its wounds, its victories, its regrets—rests in His hands, and you sense no anger in Him. Only love. Only a Father’s heart. Then, without sound, without motion, you feel His verdict. Only truth. Not a sentence, not a decree, but a welcome. A welcome into a fullness you glimpsed in flashes during your life but never understood until now. A welcome into rest, the kind Jesus promised: “I go to prepare a place for you.” A welcome into a love that doesn’t merely surround you, but transforms you, completes you. You realize that judgment, in God’s presence, is not simply the weighing of deeds, but the unveiling of grace, the healing of every fracture, and the final answering of the deepest longing of the human spirit. To be fully known and fully loved.

 

The light spreads outward like the opening of eternity, and you step into it, not in fear, not in uncertainty, but in the quiet assurance that the One who judges is also the One who saves, restores, and calls you His own. And as you pass into that everlasting dawn, you understand at last that every question He asked was truly an invitation, an invitation into Him, into love, into life without end. 

 

No one knows what will happen at the end, nor has anyone ever told the story of the final judgement. There have been near-death experiences. I believe their spirits were still present in the body.