I have to go to the dentist tomorrow. Yuck. It is my own fault. I hadn’t been in many years. Needless to say, he has had a lot of work to do. Tomorrow is my fourth visit in the last couple of months.
I don’t like the dentist because I don’t like pain. I say that we a sense of conviction, however, because it really isn’t that much pain. I visited people in the hospital today who would have gladly the exchanged their cancer meds for my dentist chair even without the Novocain.
Nevertheless, it is still one of those uncomfortable things that, had it not been for the fall, would not exist. As I lay back in the chair, my jaw cramping because it does not get any wider and needles being put in my mouth, God brought me to rest in part of redemptive history. I was so thankful for Christ condescending into this human sphere of existence. I know Christ never sat in a dentist chair. But it was probably far worse dealing with teeth without regular cleaning. He had all sorts of uncomfortable things happen to Him that he would not have experienced had he not condescended into this sphere of the flesh (All this before the Cross, which I think would be just blasphemous to compare to my dentist chair experience). This discomfort brought me to appreciate God’s active love of sending Christ who also experienced discomfort.
I’m also thankful for the saints who have gone before us who have reflected deeply upon biblical truth. I would not have come up with the insights in redemptive history of Ridderbos or Vos on my best day, let alone in the seat of a dentist chair. That’s why it was so good to read these insights ahead of time. They are rocks to land on when my mind is looking for solid ground.
By the way, tomorrow the dentist is going to fix a broken tooth. I cracked “tooth number 7” while playing around on my bike on the front yard—the only lasting injury of 5 years of competitive mounting biking—go figure. I’ve had it fixed before, but it never lasted. This time the dentist said he will make it shorter, but then cut away at the gum to, “give the illusion” of length. And with a satisfied grin on his face, he said, “I wonder why no one has thought of that before.” Answer: Because there are NERVES in those gums. In light of his brilliant idea of that I though to of a plan myself. My dentist (who I actually do really like, and I really hope is not reading this) could lose about 10 pounds. How about we cut off the excess around the belly to “give the illusion” of being slender? I wonder why no one has thought of that before!
