Give Respect, Get Respect

Respect is generally earned. How does one earn it? By giving it. The respect that one receives is like the reflection that a mirror gives. It gives that reflection because it receives that reflection. Be aware of those, however, who have a hard time respecting. They might be jealous of those who know how. They know that the respect that is given will most often bring positive results, and they are afraid that they won't be recipients of them. They may try to sabotage you with unkind words and a variety of insults. This is proof that practicing respect works: you have caused the enemy of respect to go to war. He shoots bullets made of lint, that travel slow. Keep on respecting and don't allow the losers to get in your way. They lose out, because due to their actions; it is necessary for them to spend a great deal of time by themselves. Disrespect produces loneliness. Disrespect produces sadness. Disrespect produces drama. The drama is a necessity for the one who cannot respect. Why? Because it is a substitute for the positive emotional experiences that he is not receiving due to his inability to respect. Take your life to a higher level. Don't play in the trash of unfulfilled aspirations. Give respect, get respect.

Delirium Tremens

They called him "Ace," he was a fair pool player. He was 35 years of age. When he got to drinking, he forgot about pool. He was an alcoholic. He was a part-time cook in North Park. He had a studio apartment in North Park: he paid $60 a month rent for it. The year was 1970. Ace got fired from his job for going to work under the influence of liquor. He decided to get drunk and stay drunk for a few days. He stayed drunk for a week. He drank beer and wine. He got sick. He stopped drinking for two days. The night of the second day is when the "strangers" came. Ace was in a fetal position when he started shaking uncontrolably. Then he saw them. Animals one will never see in a zoo.(or anywhere else) They were animals. They were monsters. Some looked like men; but these men had horns and sharp, long fangs. Some had bodies. Some were only heads. They flew all over the room. They laughed at Ace. They mocked him. They opened up their mouths and flew right at him. He swung at them and they flew directly through him. They had penetrating eyes. They had a look of hatred and violence. He saw many of them. It was like an army of them. Some had a great deal of hair or fur. Some were bald. Some had beaks instead of mouths. But they all had two things in common: All were flying; and all were mocking him. He decided to put a stop to all of this the best way he could. He started drinking again. He started drinking beer. He drank until he passed out. Passing out is paradoxical. It is the body's own response to the one trying to kill it. Passing out prevents death by alcohol poisoning. "The drunkard turns to drinking like an infant to the breast, coming to the age of weaning, only when he's laid to rest." (anon.)

I Remember Cleveland Williams

It was during the month of November in the year 2001. I was in Houston, Texas, for a National Convention of the Apostolic Assembly. I am an ordained minister in that organization. I have also been a boxing fan for most of my life. I remember Cleveland Williams. Although he was never a champ, I consider him among the greats in the heavyweight division of professional boxing. He won 78 fights and lost 13. He was afraid of no boxer in the ring. He "mixed it up" with both muhammed Ali and Sonny Liston. Although he was defeated by both of them; he hurt both of them with his brutal punches. He was called "The Big Cat." I was with another minister in the mini mart of a gas station in Houston; and it was no coincidence that when I saw a tall African-American man in the store: I asked him: "Would you please tell me me where Cleveland Williams lives? I need to talk to him about Jesus." He answered me and said: "You mean the big cat?" I responded with a yes. He told me: "I knew him well, I was his sparring partner, he died two years ago." I started to think about the man who fought with 5 Houston Police officers who had such a hard time arresting him; they shot him at close range. I do not judge what those officers did. I was not there. But Williams recovered from the wounds sustained from a 57 Magnum and got into the ring and fought the man considered to be the greatest heavyweight ever. And he did it with courage. Yes, I remember Cleveland Williams.

If You Want To Have A Friend

Friendships do not just happen, they need to be cultivated. They need to be nurtured. It is true: some relationships are "low maintenance," yet they are considered friendships. Why? The key word is "maintenance." How are friendships maintained? How else unless it is through communication, correspondence, and socializing? Do not friends stay in touch? Do not friends have a willingness to listen to each other? Part of the problem with friendships is that sometimes people want the benefits of friendship, but they are unwilling to make the sacrifices and commitments that friendship demands and requires. The best way to have a friend is to be a friend. And to be a friend requires sacrifice. It is a natural law. It is also a spiritual law. Recently, someone told me about a person who requested a favor from an acquaintance. The acquaintance answered "no." The requestor asked why. The acquaintance then answered: "Because that type of favor is reserved only for my friends; and you are not my friend." Although the response sounded harsh; it was very honest and it ended an "imaginary" friendship. That particular way of dealing with people may not be something we want to do because most of us do not want to make enemies. Nevertheless, many of us have experienced or have seen people who want the benefits of friendship but they refuse to be a friend. Again:IF YOU WANT TO HAVE A FRIEND; YOU NEED TO BE A FRIEND. Friendships must be nurtured, there is no other way. What is the best vitamin for friendship? B1.

Little Gangster (Pt. 6)

This particular "gangster" was not really "little." And, he was not really a gangster per se; He just benefitted from some of the gang-related, illicit activity he was involved in. He was an ally and he played the part. But this particular young man should have known better. He was a married man with 3 children. He was 28 years of age. He was a cement finisher. He did a good job and work was steady. He was ambitious. That is not so bad. He was trustworthy. That is a good trait. He was muscular because he lifted weights in his garage. He had sizable biceps and forearms which accentuated his tattoos. His nickname was "Clover." We all have our weaknesses and shortcomings. Clover's weakness was that he had a great deal of pride. He was very concerned about his image. Because of the neighborhood where he grew up; he knew drug dealers. They trusted him. Every now and then he was asked to deliver drugs and collect money. He was offered reasonable portions of some of the drug money. He took it. He enjoyed having the extra cash, and it seemed so easy to get. He never got arrested. One time he was asked to make a delivery of heroin. He was to receive $10,000 in cash. He was told to keep $4,000 for himself and to deliver the remaining $6,ooo to a certain address. He went to deliver the cash, but nobody was there. He took all of the cash home. Weeks passed and he heard from nobody regarding the undelivered cash. One day he received a phone call from someone who wanted the $6,ooo. It was not the same person who was originally supposed to collect it. Clover told him he would not give it to him; and not stated in a courteous manner. Several weeks passed and one Saturday night, Clover took his family to an expensive Mexican resaurant in West Los Angeles. Two men approached him and his family and demanded the $6,000. Clover made a serious mistake. He cussed the men out. No humility. No discussion. No reasoning. No promise of a future payment. No. Just pride, image and a false belief that rude words would end the problem. One of the men pulled out a 38 Special revolver and shot 4 bullets into Clover's chest. Clover's wife and 3 sons (ages 9,7 and 5) screamed as they watched Clover bleed to death in the parking lot. It was a tragic scene. It was extremely sad. It did not have to happen.

Little Gangster (Pt. 5)

His name was Toro. He was 15 years old. He was big for his age. He was in a gang, but he was the type of gangster that had an uncommon trait. He looked for trouble while by himself. He was a bully. He really enjoyed picking on other students at school. Kids stayed away from him. They got out of his way. Toro liked to fight. Toro was driven by a need to prove himself strong and tough. He won all of his fights. Some were at school, some were off campus. But the law of averages was against him. By this I mean that he was not going to be able to continue to do what he was doing and continue to win. He humiliated others. He intimidated others. Toro was not much of an athlete. In a Boys' P.E. class the day finally came. Toro and his team were playing football against another team in a P.E. class. A big boy who was called "Flash" blocked Toro and knocked him down. Toro was embarrassed, so he stuck out his chest, closed his fists, cussed at, and challenged Flash. Flash was extremely fast. (thus the nickname) He hit Toro 7 times. With the eighth punch Toro landed on the ground. He did not hit Flash once. Flash stood over him and yelled: "Do you want some more?" Apparently none of the coaches saw what happened. Nobody got suspended from school. Nevertheless Toro took a few "days off" from school. Some time later, a teacher mentioned to Toro: "I heard you got into a fight, Toro." Toro responded by saying: "Fighting never accomplished anything."