I’ve never met anyone who likes going to the dentist, but I know for a fact that, for other people, it’s a much more pleasant experience than it is for me. Going to the dentist as a kid used to be exciting — it felt very grown-up to sit in the chair with your bib on — until I learned that every time I went, I had to get a cleaning (with fluoride, ick), and more often than not, I was getting a filling. As soon as my baby teeth were gone, I was getting my big girl teeth fixed.
I was cursed with bad teeth. Something about bad enamel, or bad teeth-genes. I don’t really know. All I know is, I’ve always had bad teeth. In elementary school I got fillings in my front teeth. In middle school I got fillings in my molars, which were then layered with braces for the majority of my pubescent years. Once my teeth were straightened out, I thought things would be better, but as an adult, I’ve had over a dozen cavities filled. I’m thankful for a straight smile, as it will slow down the process of tooth decay, but I still go to the dentist twice a year, and I anticipate each visit with dread.
I’ve gotten so many cavities filled, I’ve become an expert at it by now. When another cavity comes around, I know the drill (pun intended). I schedule my appointment for an early morning (to get it over with) and bring sunglasses (to shield from the awful fluorescent lights) and headphones (to listen to loud, angry music to drown out the drilling). I eat a big breakfast before I go (since I can’t eat for at least 2 hours after the fillings) and brush my teeth thoroughly before going (don’t want to aggravate the issue any more). When I get there, I lie down in the chair, don my headphones and sunglasses, and the dentist gets to work. Last time I went, the hygienist said, “Wow, you came prepared!” and, smirking, I told her, “I’ve done this before a few times.”
I’ve become familiar with the dentist’s chair, and as I sit there and talk with the dentist, they pelt me with questions that might explain my cavity-ridden mouth. Do you drink soda? No. Do you drink sports drinks? No. Do you brush your teeth twice a day? Yes. Do you floss every night? Yes. With every question, they think they’ve found the cause, and therefore can offer a cure. But I stump them. My teeth are just rotting, and there’s not much I can do to fix it.
The worst people are the people who complain about going to the dentist but have never had a cavity in their life. And the worst part is, they don’t floss. Only desperate people actually floss. The non-flossing, cavity-free people are the worst kind. They don’t have to do anything, and during their once-a-decade dentist appointment, the dentist lets them off scot-free, not a single imperfection, not a single bit of rot. Perfect teeth. And they didn’t even try. There I am, sitting a chair away, at the dentist for the second time that year, glaring at my dentist for telling me about another cavity.
Typically, we believe that hard work pays off. The more you do, the more reward you get. But for some reason, that’s not working out for me at the dentist. No matter how frequently I floss, I still get cavities. And some people don’t try at all, and they have perfect teeth.
As unpleasant as my visits often are, I’ve learned something about the Kingdom of God while sitting in that dentist’s chair. In the Kingdom, everything is upside-down. It’s not about working really hard; it’s about letting the work be done for you.
I may have white pearly teeth that look good on the outside, but the dentist knows, when he takes a closer look, that they are rotting away. I know he can see things going on that I can never see, and definitely can’t fix, on my own. Though it’s grueling to sit in that chair and get my cavities filled, I know that I’m in good hands. And as much as I dread going, I know that sitting in that chair twice a year is good for me.
I know some people who avoid going to the dentist because they are so afraid of what the dentist might find. So they go about their lives, letting their teeth rot, avoiding the very person who can help. The deal is, just like our teeth, our hearts are decaying from the inside out, no matter how hard we work. And unlike teeth, we can’t just floss away the plaque or rely on good teeth-genes to get us by. We need someone to fill the cavities in our hearts.
My friend Karen talks about how God is a great heart surgeon, but we’re not always great at lying on the operating table. In heart surgery, you don’t try to help the surgeon. You don’t point to where you should be sliced open or what instrument should be used. You just lie there. I’ve learned that well at the dentist. If I just lie still, and let the dentist do his work, I’ll walk away with less pain and better teeth in the end. The author of Hebrews knows the same is true about the throne of God — instead of fearing it, the author tells us that we can “approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need” (Hebrews 4:16 NIV). So whether you’re a chronic flosser with lots of cavities, or you’ve got perfect pearly whites, there is an open seat for you at the throne of grace. Now, sit back and say ah!
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This is a dynamic in our marriage. I won the dental gene lottery. My wife did not. She’s a brush-twice-floss-mouthwash kind of gal, and I’m not. every trip to the dentist office ends in resentment, where I get a clean bill of health and she gets a filling. We stopped scheduling same-day dentist appointments a few years ago to bring down the resentment level in our marriage!