Monday, November 9, 2009

“Dignity, Depravity & Dental Floss”

The following post is a short article written by Jason Kliewer, whose thoughts were so aligned with my own, it's easier to just post his writing than try to write anything similar. Not only have I shared these dental experiences, but also share the depravity of caring too much what people think, and then turning around and judging others for those same faults. So, here you go...enjoy!

I hate going to the dentist. Maybe it’s because I had 95 cavities as a kid. Well, maybe not 95, but at least 7. There are a couple reasons why I avoid the dentist. The first is that it always seems to take at least three shots of Novocain to deaden my gums. Not cool. The second reason is that a visit to the dental office reveals my need for the gospel, and that is also uncomfortable.

Let me explain. Uncomfortable feelings begin when I sit down in the lobby and have to fill out that medical paperwork. My problem arises when I reach question #12 on the form: “How many times a week do you floss?” Now, let’s be honest with ourselves - nobody flosses unless they have just eaten corn-on-the-cob. Nobody. I instantly start to sweat and squirm a little in my seat. I try to skip to question #13, hoping #12 goes away if I ignore it, but it doesn’t. Thankfully, I can actually remember eating corn-on-the-cob about 9-10 days earlier (which, if you factor in things like daylight savings time and leap year and stuff, is basically within  a week). So that’s one. Then I remember that Mexican restaurants usually have toothpick dispensers by the cash register, and I like Mexican food a lot. I figure that two toothpick uses probably equals one flossing, and I’m sure I’ve used four toothpicks in the last week. That brings my total flossings (is that a word?) to three. I add one more to the total just in case I’ve forgotten anything, and I intentionally write sloppier than normal, so that the dentist may confuse my 4 for a 9, but I still breathe nervously when I hand in my paperwork, knowing that he will immediately glance down to #12, purse his lips and shake his head in disappointed disgust.

There was one time, however, when I did not have this traumatic experience with Question #12. Quite the opposite, in fact. After going in for a check-up and being told that I needed $13,500 of work done (after insurance!), I went on a military-like dental hygiene regiment. Three different rinses and two flossings each day. Every day. After three months, I visited a new dentist, and for the first time in my life, strutted up to the counter, confidently grabbed the paperwork and took a seat. I hurried through the first several questions, and when I got to #12, sat up straighter in my chair as a sense of pride overwhelmed me. It was one of those times that you read aloud to yourself, pretending like that’s just how you normally read, but you purposely talk loud enough for other patients to overhear. I wrote dark and neat, “14”, and nodded to myself, convinced that other patients would not only think I was an incredible flossing rock star, but would feel that they were, at-best, mediocre humans who really should be ashamed.

Both of these examples, although mundane and ordinary, revealed that I need the gospel on a daily basis. Later, questions came to mind such as: “Why was I embarrassed to admit my poor flossing habits to a dentist? Someone I didn’t even know?” and, “After I had flossed regularly, why did I enjoy belittling others?” This was about dental hygiene, but it was about so much more than dental hygiene.

In the first dental visit mentioned, I was uncomfortable because the thought of criticism threatened my sense of worth. Internal fears were triggered that told me I was unacceptable. I had not done enough good things to make me “good enough”. When I recognized the lies, I could preach the gospel to myself. This good news is that I have eternal value and worth because I am uniquely created in the image of God, by Him and for Him. Furthermore, because I have Christ in me, the Father calls me His son and I am always accepted by Him. I am “okay”. When I lose sight of my God-given dignity and believe that what I do (or don’t do) determines who I am, a dentist’s opinion is threatening. When I embrace the truth that I am a beloved child of God, I can relax and rest, free from this potential shame.

In the second office visit, my need for the gospel displayed itself in a different way. I was prideful and arrogant because I had worked hard and knew that I would have the dentist’s approval. And, to reinforce myself of how amazing I was, I looked down on others around me and was thankful I was not like them-irresponsible “non-flossers”. Just as I had to preach the gospel to myself when I was “not good enough”, so I needed to when I was “too good.”  God’s message to me is that no matter how many commendable things I do, or how great people think I am, I am messed up! We all are. All of us are sick with sin and we need help- help that can only come from Christ’s life, death, and resurrection. When I lose sight of my depravity, I live like I don’t need God, because I can become “acceptable” on my own. In focusing on my self-achieved goodness, I look down on others because I see them as “worse” than me. The truth is that I am no more loved by God, no matter how much good I do. He perfectly loves terrorists, murderers, and non-flossers as much as he loves me.

Every day we are given opportunities to face up to - and embrace - both dignity and depravity. This can lead us to the gospel and to God…a God who brings freedom from shame and pride, and who uses even dental floss to draw us near to Himself. 

by Jason Kliewer

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