DOG DIARY - VS - CAT DIARY

And now, for something a little...um, er...MUCH lighter than the DDP.
I saw this in an email once and thought it was very funny, so I wanted to repost it here so you, too, could have a laugh. Enjoy!

EXCERPTS FROM A DOG'S DAILY DIARY

8:00am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
6:00pm - Oooh, bath. Bummer.
7:00pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00pm - Wow! Watched TV with people! My favorite thing!
11:00pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

EXCERPTS FROM A CAT'S DAILY DIARY

Day 983 of my captivity.

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.

The dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today, I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Infidels!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power or "allergies." I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.

Today, I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow --- but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. the dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems more than willing to return. He is obviously an idiot.

The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now........

DDP - Exit Journey Part 05

My Humanism looks me in the eyes, challenging me to fight him in what I'm sure would be a self-apocalyptic throwdown of epic proportions. However, this time, I won't react and fight him; but I won't look away from him either. I refuse to lower my eyes.

We stare at each other, knowing each other's thoughts. My dark reflection is me, part of me, the unredeemed side of me that I've allowed to dwell for too long in this cave, unacknowledged.

My Humanism scoffs at my belief in the Divine. He scowls at the very mention of Providence. He believes only in the might of his own hand, his power tactics, his coercive means and his human charm.

Themes of "Might makes right" and "only the strong survive" reflect in his eyes along with whispers of, "you are what you make of yourself" and "always look out for Number One."

He is, for all intents and purposes, a cynic, nothing more. He calls himself a realist; but in actuality, he is a pessimist who looks only at the pain brought about by this physical world with no hope in the Divine Intervention brought about by the loving imminence of a transcendent God.

The irony is: My Humanism ignores the rain that pours around him. He gives no thought to the Presence that shines around him.

Here in this deep cave with stagnant air, a cool breeze brushes my face.
Then, a thought comes to me, almost as a whisper in the wind.
"Pick up your broken pieces."

I reach down and pick up one of the shards.
My Humanism shudders, "What are you doing, Dallas?"

I put the shard in my empty bag.
"You're coming with me," I say to my Humanism, "This cave does not belong to you."

Piece by piece, I pick up my broken soul and place it in the bag on my back.
The Light in the cave intensifies as Revelation sweeps over me.

These pieces of my soul have stayed for too long in darkness, not exposed to the light of Life.
This cave, my cave, is a place of solace, a place to unwind and unplug.
I should not fear this cave. This cave is part of the vast terrain of who I am, nothing to be feared.

Yet, by hiding my darkness here and letting it grow in strength in the darkness, I have allowed this cave to become haunted --- a Deep Dark Place --- rather than merely a place of solitude.
I have empowered those aspects of my unredeemed life by choosing to ignore them.
But not anymore.

I pick up the last shard and place it in the bag.
The cave is empty now, no longer haunted.

My eyes move upward toward the cave's opening, and I begin my ascent.

Later, I emerge from the cave with my backpack of shards.
Here I am a broken man with all of my soul now exposed to the Light.

I now carry my brokenness with me, as both a reminder of my humanity as well as an act of faith knowing that as I carry my brokenness in the light, God will faithfully transform me into a man who is fully redeemed.

At the opening of the cave stands my wife, holding our son, as well as my family and my friends.

A cool wind blows as my eyes scan the landscape of my life.
Hills, Mountains, Valleys, Plains, this Cave.
My Life is panorama of beauty.
I've never forgotten that, but I have missed the view.

I look back into the cave.
Never again will this cave be a place of fear or a place of self-loathing.
It is merely a place of solace.
The DDP is no more.

DDP - Exit Journey Part 04

My Anger's attack has left me lying on the floor.
Every action on my part was met with a violent re-action by him.

Worthlessness, Pride, Doubt and Insignificance have recovered as my countless other shadows move in to pick the scraps. For the next several moments, what seems like an eternity, I am tossed about, kicked and abused by all of the dark shadows of my soul.

Next, I am picked up by a large, burly shadow: my Gluttony. That part of me who has insatiable cravings and refuses to tame them. He wraps his large arms around me in a bear-hug. My lungs collapse under crushing, vice-like grip of my vices.

When I near unconsciousness, he drops me back to the cavern floor.

I struggle for breath.

Just then, I feel something strange, something unfelt before this deep in the cave. A drop of water hits my hand. Then, a splash of cold water soaks the back of my neck.

I look up.

High above, near the mouth of the cave, I see the clouds parting. A ray of Light breaks into the dark cavern as drops of refreshing descend to the floor where I lie.

A Presence. There. Beside me.
A warmth. Comfort. Something so opposite of this cold, dark place.

Even while I was unable to cry out for help, Help has come to my rescue.
Here in the dark cave of my soul, surrounded by the enemies that have arisen against me, Hope is present. For the first time... in a long time... Hope. And a measure of Peace.

The battle ceases as a ray of light shines on the shattered mirror shards that are strewn about the cavern floor. A prism of colors illuminate the cave walls, as if I'm standing inside a mirror ball.

The shadows cower from the ray of light, but they do not disappear.

I stand to my feet and come face to face with my Shame.

Shame lowers his eyes and looks away from me, his reaction the same as mine when first I saw my dark reflection.

This time, instead of fighting or forcing a confrontation, I raise his chin with my hand.

Our eyes lock for the first time.

Face to face with my Shame, illuminated by the Light as rain falls around us. In Shame's eyes are a brokenness, a pain from every hurtful word ever spoken against me.

He lowers his eyes again, but I will not let him. I lift his head up in my hands. Together, we weep.

After a moment of acknowledging my Shame, I turn toward the other Shadows of my soul and say, "I refuse to ignore you... any of you, any longer."

Suddenly, the shadows begin to converge into one dark reflection again.

There, standing before me, is my greatest enemy: my Humanism.

(TO BE CONTINUED...)

DDP - Exit Journey Part 03

(AUTHOR'S NOTE - This is getting more difficult to share with you, but you've come with me this far. This isn't pretty, and I thank you for your grace to continue on this journey. That said, please remember: I'm sharing this with you as I see it. I'm not trying to dramatically manipulate or anything. As a matter of fact, if I feel myself manipulating what I see in any way, I stop and go do something else. So, what you are reading is what I see as I see it. Hence, the narrative is not perfect, and I'm not taking the time to edit it.)
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The dark army of -self encircles me.

Even though my vision is blurred, I know these shadows all too well - a host of other characters whom I have never acknowledged in the light.

I have let these creatures live in this shadowy place of my cave of solace. By refusing to look in the mirror, I have let them gather strength in this dark cavern.

Then, the first attack comes. My Doubt. He delivers a crushing blow to my head.

As I stumble, he screams obscenities about my lack of faith, calling into question every skill, every talent I have.

My backpack...my skills! My talents!

I make a move for my bag, and Doubt calls out to his partner: my sense of Worthlessness.

Worthlessness steps between me and my bag, blocking the way. He declares some half-truths about my insignificance. No...I know better...

Worthlessness spots the defiance in my gaze, so he calls out to a third partner: my Pride.

Pride steps up beside Worthlessness and Doubt. The three of them create an inner circle within the larger circle of dark, taunting shadows.

The three partners rush me. This time, I'm defending myself!
The fight plays out like a bad Kung-Fu movie, except instead of being able to fend of my adversaries, they gain the upper hand.

Pride delivers a stiff kick directly into my chest. I collapse backward and land at the feet of an older-looking version of myself.

This is the part of me that I despise: Time. His iron grip wraps around my throat and lifts me off my feet and hurls me across the cavern.

My back slams against the cavern wall. Time made one mistake. He threw me right next to my backpack.

He's across the cavern, so I take the opportunity to reach for my skills. Yet, within a blink, he is in front of me. Time moves more quickly than I realized. He scoffs at my skills and talents.

He calls out to Pride, Worthlessness and Doubt, "Dallas thinks that these skills can save him against his age!" He laughs as he continues, "Look at that: a one-time prodigy, now in his thirties, who has yet to make any impact in the world!"

Time gives a high-five to another shadow: my Insignificance.

Insignificance picks up my bag, pours out the contents onto the cave floor, kicks dust on them and laughs.

The others laugh as well, mocking me.

Enraged, I let out a scream and plow right into Insignificance.

The others continue laughing until I lay them out, one by one, with my fists. Pride, Worthlessness and Doubt join Insignificance in a heap on the floor.

All I can see is red as I rush Time and tackle him to the floor, pummeling his wrinkled face with my bloodied, swollen fists.

After a moment, I cease my attack. I didn't want to fight these shadows with force, but I...

Then, I hear applause. I stand up, huffing and puffing, my heart still racing. I turn around.

Standing there, applauding my every move is: my Anger.

His sly smile quickly melts into a rage. He races toward me and knocks me to the ground.

(TO BE CONTINUED...)

DDP - Exit Journey Part 02

I reach a deep plateau. I set down my backpack to rest.
The cavern is huge. 

The cave is empty. The ground is dusty. No footprints except mine.

I think to myself, I don't remember having ever gone this deep before, yet it seems familiar.

Then, I see something: an object.
I move closer. The object becomes clear.

A full-length mirror.

The mirror is covered in soot and dust.

I look into the mirror. What I see sends shivers up my spine.

Staring back at me is a dark reflection of myself.
The reflection scowls at me, as if to taunt me into a fight.

Despising what I see, I lower my eyes and look away.

I turn and walk back to grab my backpack so that I can leave this dark mirror and this part of my cave.

Then, the dark reflection steps out of the mirror and sets foot into the cavern, his shadowy footprints now joining mine on the dusty floor.

He moves, stealth-like, toward me. I don't notice it until he is right beside me. I turn to face him just as his shadowy fist connects with my left eye. I stumble backward. My eye immediately begins to swell.

However, I refuse to fight him. I cannot engage my darker self in some, Jekyll-and-Hyde-type struggle of wills. This is not a battle of force and might.

Before I can gain my footing, his dark fist flies toward my other eye.

I fall to my knees in pain.

Both eyes are swollen. My vision is impaired. I cannot see.

No. I will not fight you.

I lift my head, ready to let out a scream, a cry, a prayer --- anything.
However, before I can speak, this darker self pummels my jaw.
Blood flies from my mouth. I cannot speak.

As I spit blood onto the cavern floor, he drives a knee into the side of my head.

I crumple to my elbows and knees. My head is throbbing. I cannot think.

Suddenly, a boot connects with my mid-section. I fall to the floor, the wind knocked out of me. I cannot breathe.

I cannot... I will not... fight you with force.

He picks me up and throws me into the cave wall. I collapse to the ground, rocks and debris falling on top of me.

His attack has been strategic:
I cannot see.
I cannot speak.
I cannot think.
I cannot breathe.

Covered in dust and rubble, a panicked thought invades my mind: Have I descended this far only to lose a battle with my darker self?

A cough. More blood spits out.

My darker self paces back and forth, fists clenched.

I cannot overcome him.
Then, a moment of clarity...

Through my swollen eyes, I spot the dark mirror. My hand feels a large rock. My fingers wrap around the stone.
If...I...can...only...destroy...the dark mirror.

In a last ditch effort of strength and will, I grab the rock, pull myself to my feet and sprint past my dark shadow.

With all my might, I hurl the rock into the mirror and it shatters into pieces.
The shards crumble to the ground.

Silence.

I look around. I am alone. My dark shadow is gone.

Thank God.

Then, I hear a rattling. The mirror shards are shaking. I look down at the scattered, broken pieces.

What I see terrifies me: within the fragments of the mirror are countless dark reflections staring back at me, each shadow a different aspect of my unredeemed soul.

Each dark characteristic arises out of the broken pieces.
This dark army of my soul encircles me.

Terror overwhelms me.
If I was unable to fight one dark reflection, how will I now defeat all of these ghostly aspects of my soul?

(TO BE CONTINUED...)

DDP - Exit Journey Part 01

I am deep in the belly of the dark cave.

The walls of the cavern are slimy and cold.

The air is thick, stale. No movement. No ventilation this far below.

Over the past several weeks I have continued deeper and deeper into this dark place. From levels of self-loathing to self-accusation, from self-hatred to self-detestation. As I descend, each plateau takes me further into the chasm.

The best thing to do would be turn around and go back to the surface, but I cannot. Something is drawing me deeper. I shoulder my backpack, filled with supplies --- my talents, my abilities, my skills --- all the tools God has given me. All the tools I've ever used in my life. I take my backpack, and I journey deeper.

From the surface above, I faintly hear the voices of my friends, my family, my wife. Everyone is calling me to come back to the surface, to reemerge. Some say that they are praying. Others say that they want to journey with me. Yet, this is a journey I must, ultimately, make alone because this is my cave.

I've come here since I was a boy. This is my place of solitude. 

I come here to think, to get away from it all.

This is my place of familiar reclusiveness.

I thought I knew every crevice, every rock face, every level of descent; but I have found new depths that frighten and terrify me. As far as I know, I'm the only one who has ever been in this particular cave. Yet, somehow, these new depths feel haunted, as though I'm not alone.

Something is drawing me further and further down. I ponder, "Is it my soul? My God? What would be drawing me further, and what would there be to see down this far?"

(TO BE CONTINUED...)

DDP - A Point Of Clarification

First, thank you all so much for your amazing words, encouragements, prayers, etc. It's breathtaking and comforting to know that, even online, their is a community of faith, family and friends who hope and pray the best for me, my wife, our son and our lives.

I have received a number of great comments here on the blog as well as emails, text messages and even some personal calls from many of you who have offered counsel, wisdom, advice, prayer and even just an open ear. I am grateful for all of you.

I also want to thank you for allowing me to be so open and transparent with you. Some have thanked me for putting in words what they have been feeling while others have told me they felt I shared too much. Yet, I think it is necessary that we live transparently before each other, and I will continue to strive to do just that. I began this blog as an effort to get my open and honest thoughts out there to share with you, and I appreciate you allowing me the ability to do that.

(side note: this is not therapy for me to write these things for you. In fact, it is painful and somewhat embarrassing. So I am not exposing myself in an effort to gain some sort of twisted self-absolution. I am simply striving to be honest with you on all of my thoughts.)

That said, not every thought is pretty. Not every thought is well-written. Not every thought is easy to read, and some are downright disturbing.

Nonetheless, I will continue to strive to be as open and honest as I can, always encouraging dialogue with you with no walls or barriers between us. Speak your mind here, and I will speak mine. Together, we will strive for unity. Not unity of ideas, nor unity of philosophies on every subject. I wouldn't want that. Neither you nor I should be parrots of one another. No.

Rather, we will strive for unity of Spirit in perfect love. Here, at this place/this blog, we will not fear what is said because --- as a wise Word once written says, "Perfect Love casts out all fear."
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Second, I would like to clarify my particular DDP "crisis", if you will.

This DDP is not a crisis of faith.

Far from it! Indeed, my faith is more resolute than ever that God is unwavering in His passionate pursuit of me.

Rather, this DDP is a crisis of self.

My DDP is a place to which I must occasionally journey in order to find solace and re-energize myself to face the world again. Not to make a joke but consider, if you would, that my DDP is much like Superman's Fortress Of Solitude. (Cue the head-shaking) This is the place I go to get away and recharge.

However, this time, the cave has been darker.
The shadows, looming. The journey, longer. The depths, deeper.

Through some prayer and introspection time this week, I have had a series of thoughts, dreams and/or visions.

I believe that my DDP exit journey has begun, and I am working it out. The "visions", if you will, have come in sequence; and amazingly they are ending at cliffhanger points.

Please stick with me through these next several blog entries while I work out these thoughts and please indulge me to take a little more blog time on my DDP journey. Happy days will be here again.

These next several blog entries will be where each of the "visions" have ended, so that you can see where the journey is taking me. I will warn you: I am not out of it yet.

Also, I want to say that none of these pictures have been pre-meditated or pre-conceived by me, nor do I know how any of this will resolve. The journey segments you read on this blog is what I'm getting at the same time. I will do my best to use my words to paint as vivid a picture as I'm seeing for you.

Thank you again for your thoughts, prayers and support. You are all so dear to me!

Even More Letters From The DDP

I feel that I must divulge more info to you about the DDP.
I'm unsure that I have made clear to you the stark reality of this emotional chasm.

I've been in this state for weeks now, actually a month.
(Please pray for Meg...she is over it.)

The problem with my DDP is that it is an overwhelming place of second-, triple-, and even quadruple-guessing my thoughts, motivations, faith, problems, weaknesses, etc., etc., etc.

Please understand: this is more than just melancholy thoughts of "oh-what-a-bad-day-woe-is-me" nonsensical thinking that is brushed away by a single prayer or a good comedy movie.
Also, it's more than just an adult version of a temper-tantrum.
It's a brutal place of spiraling brokenness from which there is no easy repentance nor easy escape.

The DDP is a continual descent from plateau to plateau, each one caused by the other.
The cycle is vicious, and I have a hard time breaking it.

This DDP journey, in particular, has been especially brutal.

Here is how the spiral works for me:
I begin to self-doubt --- talents, abilities, destiny, future, whatever it may be.
Then, my self-doubt spirals into self-loathing because "I KNOW BETTER!"
Then, my self-loathing spirals further into self-accusations.
Self-accusations such as,
"Dallas, you should know better."
"Dallas, you have so little faith!"
"Dallas, you've been here before...haven't you learned your lesson yet?!"
Then, the spiral takes me to a deeper place.
From self-accusation to self-hatred.
Self-hatred leads to thoughts such as:
"Well, this is why you're still here because you are faithless."
"No wonder God has yet to utilize you... it is because your personal character is lacking."
"You are the worst human being alive!"
Then, the self-hatred spirals into self-indulgence.
I just want to sleep. Lay around. Not do anything creative.
I stress easily. I anger more easily. I spiral deeper and deeper.
Worship is hard.
Bible-reading is painful.
Prayer is nearly impossible.
My imminent God, whom I love dearly, seems so distant.
The dark night of my soul continues as my energy plummets from all of my in-fighting.
The cave around me darkens.
My nails are crusted with mud and dirt from clawing at the walls of my soul.
Then, the self-hatred spirals further into self-abhorrence.
None of my tricks, my lifelines such as prayer and worship, are working.
I try and get creative, knowing that creativity such as writing usually works for me.
This time, it doesn't. The rope of creativity is too short as well.
Plus, I have no energy to pull myself up creatively... I've been fighting for too long.
And the self-abhorrence continues because "I should be more mature than this!!"
There are so many billions of people in worse situations than me. I have no right to act like this.
"Dallas, you are so selfish, so indulgent, so weak. You puny, tiny, little man!!!"
I've been in a passionate relationship with Christ for the better part of my life.
My spiritual maturity should allow me to pull myself up from my proverbial boot-straps; and I should, by faith, be able to walk out of this DDP cave and into the glorious light of my salvation. RIGHT???!!!
Wrong. That thought just makes me feel worse.
My failings as a flawed human, coupled with my failings as a redeemed Christian, cause me to spiral further.
Self-abhorrence spirals into self-detestation.

The scary part is: I'm not sure what lies beneath self-detestation, but I fear that I may soon find out.

More Letters From The DDP

The cave: endless.
The darkness: overwhelming.
The air: stifling.
The only sound: the cry of my soul.
Which cries are mine? Which are just echoes of past screams?

How many days?
How many nights?
How many weeks?
Lost. Senseless. Causeless.
Where is light?

Which way is up?
Wait.
Breathe.
Up?
Breathe.
Up is the opposite direction of my flowing tears.

How far have I fallen?
How far have I descended?
How far upward must I now climb?
How long will this continue?
How faithless am I?

Is It Really That "Awesome"?

(this one is a rant --- so get ready)

I'm calling us out... our culture overuses the word, "awesome."

We do. Period.

Every single day, I hear the word, "awesome" used in the most mundane ways.
"That episode of [name of show] was awesome."
"What an awesome car [referencing a '78 Yugo]!"
"This turkey sandwich is awesome."

Really? Really?
Are any of these things really "awesome"?
Do they truly inspire awe in you? (okay, maybe the '78 Yugo)
But, did that turkey sandwich really make you fall to your knees in wonder and amazement?
Did it?
Huh?
Did it?
The spicy mustard couldn't have been that good.

Start to pay attention to how often you say it. How often are you misusing the word, "awesome" in the course of a week or a month?

Here's an experiment: instead of the word "awesome", what if we substitute it with another word --- say, "cantstandarific"...?

"That concert was cantstandarific! I can't stand, it was so terrific!"

I think that would work for me: "cantstandarific."

Then, we could reserve the word "awesome" for the things that truly deserve it:
A sunset revealing the grandeur of nature or a worship experience where the Presence of God is palpable, etc., etc., etc.

Let "awesome" be more than cool.
Let "awesome" be inspiring, breathtaking, sweeping, epic.
You know; let "awesome" be awesome!

The English language is already cheap enough. Could we reserve just a few words for their actual intended meaning? Could we keep the purity of some descriptions to their original essence?

Wow --- that would be cantstandarific!

PS - don't even think about using the word "awesome" in the comments section...HaHaHa!