*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM
As 2025 quietly loosens its grip and 2026 waits just beyond the edge of the calendar, I find myself doing what many people do at the end of a year—looking back, not only at what happened, but at what we believed would happen. This is the season when certainty is in demand. Social media fills with predictions, timelines overflow with “lucky signs,” and horoscopes confidently declare who will prosper, who will struggle, and who should prepare for love or loss. At the turning of a year, uncertainty feels heavier, and anything that promises reassurance becomes tempting.
I understand the attraction. Life is exhausting when the future is unclear. Hope, even when borrowed from the stars, feels like rest.
Yet I cannot forget how loudly the stars spoke at the beginning of 2020. Horoscopes—both Western and Chinese—were brimming with optimism. It was supposed to be a year of growth, balance, breakthroughs, and prosperity. Libras were promised harmony, Dragons were said to be entering powerful cycles, and almost every sign was told something good was coming. Then the world shut down. Streets emptied. Hospitals filled. Families were separated. Millions died. And the stars said nothing.
That silence stayed with me.
If destiny were truly written in constellations or animal cycles, the pandemic would not have blindsided the entire planet. If horoscopes had even a fraction of the predictive power they claim, history would look very different. No zodiac sign warned of the First World War, where an entire generation vanished into trenches. No horoscope predicted the rise of fascism, the Holocaust, or the devastation of the Second World War. No constellation foresaw the Great Depression. No animal sign announced Hiroshima or Nagasaki. History has always arrived unannounced—indifferent to symbols in the sky. The heavens remained beautiful and silent.
And still, we persist in believing.
We continue to label ourselves as Libras, Aries, Dragons, or Goats, as if symbols could contain the weight of a human life. But there are millions of Libras in this world. Does that mean they will all share the same fate in 2026? Will they all succeed or fail together, love and lose in unison? And what of the millions born in the Year of the Dragon—does that mean their destinies are synchronized, as if humanity were following a single cosmic script?
Reality answers with brutal honesty: no.
Some Libras will bury parents in 2026. Others will welcome children. Some Dragons will rise from poverty. Others will fall despite privilege. Their stories will not match—not because fate treated them differently, but because fate was never writing their stories to begin with. It is us who make our lives. Through choices we stand by, mistakes we repeat, efforts we sustain, and circumstances we endure. Astrology offers an easier explanation, but ease has never been the same as truth.
What unsettles me most about horoscopes is not merely their inaccuracy but their quiet effect on responsibility. When we say, “That’s just my sign,” we stop asking harder questions. Anger becomes inevitable. Indecision becomes excusable. Failure becomes prewritten. Growth ends where fate begins. Instead of reflecting on who we are becoming, we surrender that work to symbols that never answer for the damage they excuse.
Speaking now from my standpoint as an educator, a researcher, and a public safety and law enforcement analyst, this belief becomes even more troubling. I cannot help but ask: how credible are these predictions when, before our very eyes, we see public figures entangled in massive scandals—individuals whose horoscopes boldly declared that 2025 would be their lucky year? These same people are now facing arrest, prosecution, frozen bank accounts, and the very real possibility of imprisonment. Where is the “luck” in that? Where was the warning in their zodiac charts that accountability was coming, that power and money would no longer protect them, that the law would finally catch up?
In public safety and law enforcement, we do not deal in predictions—we deal in evidence, patterns, accountability, and consequences. Crime does not collapse because the stars shift; it collapses because investigations mature, paper trails surface, witnesses speak, and institutions move. No horoscope predicted asset freezes, arrest warrants, or court orders. No zodiac sign warned that years of concealed wrongdoing would finally be exposed. Reality unfolded not because of fate, but because systems worked, laws moved, and truth surfaced.
As a researcher, I look for patterns that can be tested and verified. Astrology offers none. As an educator, I worry about what we teach when we allow people—especially the young—to believe that success or failure is written in the stars rather than earned or lost through choices. And as someone in public safety, I know this much for certain: no one escapes accountability because of a lucky sign. The law does not recognize zodiac charts. Justice does not consult horoscopes.
Life, as we have learned repeatedly, does not consult birth charts. The pandemic did not care whether we were Leo or Libra. War does not ask for animal signs. Poverty, illness, love, and survival arrive without permission. What carried people through the darkest moments was not astrology, but humanity—science, sacrifice, discipline, compassion, and resilience.
And here, faith forces an even deeper question—one that cannot be avoided: will God allow zodiac signs and horoscopes to predict the fate of His believers? From a faith perspective, the answer is clear. No. God does not hand over human destiny to stars, planets, or symbols. To believe that zodiac signs can predict the fate of believers is to quietly transfer authority from the Creator to creation.
Faith assumes free will. Our lives unfold through choices, obedience, mistakes, repentance, mercy, and grace. If fate were fixed and readable through horoscopes, prayer would be meaningless, repentance unnecessary, and moral responsibility irrelevant. Faith is not about knowing what will happen tomorrow. It is about trusting God even when tomorrow is unknown.
Scripture has long warned against divination and fortune-telling—not because God fears competition, but because the moment we trust prediction more than God, we replace faith with control. Astrology promises certainty. Faith asks for surrender. These two paths cannot walk together.
As 2026 approaches, I choose reflection over fortune-telling. I choose responsibility over reassurance and faith over fate. The future is not written in stars or animal cycles. It is written—slowly, imperfectly, sometimes painfully—by how we live when no sign tells us what to do.
So before you share another post about “lucky signs” or “destined years,” pause for a moment. Remember 2020. Remember the scandals unfolding now, where those declared “fortunate” by horoscopes are facing jail cells and frozen accounts. Remember this simple truth: the law does not recognize zodiac signs, history does not follow horoscopes, and God does not surrender human destiny to the stars. Your future is not written in constellations or animal cycles—it is written in your choices, your integrity, and your courage to do what is right even when no sign tells you to. The stars may shine, but they do not decide. You do.
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*About the author:
