A Visit to the Dentist

Last week I participated in the Iowa Summer Writing Festival and took a class led by Doug Goetsch. We wrote four or five short pieces every day spurred by a variety of prompts. We could write in any genre so some were poems, some fiction, and some memoir  The following piece was written when we were challenged to write about something we dislike from a positive perspective.

A Visit to the Dentist

I have really great teeth.

I inherited them from my grandfather. Not his teeth specifically but the genetics that make for good teeth I suppose. Add that to the five years of braces that accompanied me through adolescence and you’ll find the least embarrassing physical trait on my person. So taking care of my teeth is important and going to the dentist is a semi-annual event that I refuse to miss.

I am fortunate enough to have found a dentist that I like. He is personable without being nosy or trite. His staff is friendly and professional. The waiting room is stocked with current magazines but I never seem to have the time to leaf all the way through one before I am called into an examination room. There, I can choose the style of music that is played during my visit. My personal preference is heavy metal but I worry that it sets the wrong tone for someone wielding sharp metal objects, so I choose the light jazz.

The dental hygienist and her assistant do most of the cleaning. I shut my eyes against the blinding, overhead light and they lean over me to pick at the small bits of plaque that have evaded toothbrush and floss. They chat idly about their children’s gymnastics, concern for aging parents, the price of hay, planning a baby shower and which bakery in town has the best butter cream frosting. I silently wonder at the number of times I have had similar conversations to pass the time or just to hear myself tell a story that I want to hear out loud.

 When it’s time to polish my teeth I am able to choose from a list of designer toothpaste flavors that include cinnamon, grape, strawberry, vanilla-mint. I stick with the classic mint. Not once am I asked to “rinse and spit.” Every stray bit of spittle and toothpaste are vacuumed away with a small suction hose. I never have to sit up once.

At the counter on the way out I can schedule my next appointment and they have my bill already waiting, adjusted for my personal insurance program. Altogether, this visit takes less than 45 minutes. I walk out the door proud to have braved another dental visit and aware that the ache of my jaw and tingle of my gums will keep me mindful of the great gift I carry in my mouth.

Unlearning

When it comes to faith one of the hardest things for me to do is to unlearn something that I have taken to heart. Sometimes it is something that I am certain is true but later find evidence to the contrary. Other times a person that I respect tells me something and presents it as a truth they have learned over a span of time. Later, I might discover that what they taught me was true for them but not necessarily true for me. Both of these are different than just learning something new that can be added into my knowledge bank. I actually have to unlearn something, to untangle it from all the other thoughts that it touches and (in some cases) to repent from the ways in which I have passed on the erroneous information when I have taught others.

When I was in seminary one of the preaching professors told us that the time we spent reading the Bible as pastors didn’t count as time spent in personal devotion to God. He told us that we had to reserve time each day for personal Bible reading. I took him at his word. After all, here was a white-haired elder of the church who had spent much of his life teaching people how to be pastors. His soft-spoken manner emanated nothing but concern for our personal, professional and spiritual well-being.  I assumed that this advice was learned during his many years preparing his own sermons and classes and I was eager to put his wisdom to work in my own life.

The Wonderful Church of Disney

On a recent trip to Orlando with 320 high school music students I spent three out of four days at Disney theme parks. On day 1 we were at Animal Kingdom from the moment it opened until 4:00 when we “park hopped” over to Epcot staying until it closed. The next day we spent 13 hours at the Magic Kingdom. Two days after that we spent the day at Disney’s Hollywood Studios theme park, again from open until close. I spent much of that time with another chaperon who, like me, was content to see a few attractions but also spend significant amounts of time sitting on a bench watching people and thinking about what the world’s number-one-tourist-destination says about our culture and how similar it is to the Christian church in America.

It Is a Small World

I recently returned home from Florida where I helped chaperon 320 high school musicians on a six day trip to Disney. On the third day of that trip I found myself wandering the streets of the Magic Kingdom on a Sunday morning instead of leading worship in my congregation. We had turned the clocks ahead for Daylight Savings Time in the middle of the night so there were relatively few people in the park when it opened. It was the best way for me to experience the Magic Kingdom but Disney’s nightmare: A individual walking the park alone without any lines to wait in and with no desire to buy a souvenir.

The first attraction that caught my eye was the infamous “It’s a Small World” ride. I hadn't been on that ride since the first time I visited the park in 1976. I don’t know why it called out to me that morning but I jokingly thought to myself that this would be penance for missing worship on a Sunday morning.  So I walked through the maze of metal guardrails and climbed aboard the aqua-colored plastic boat and began floating down the twisting canal of this world-famous ride.

My Soul Cries Out

 If only everyone could experience the joy of being Christian, being loved by God who gave his Son for us!  - Benedict XVI ‏@Pontifex

In his last days as Pope, Benedict XVI sent out this heartfelt message through his Twitter account. I have no doubt that it is a sincere sentiment, expressing the joy that he himself has experienced knowing God’s love. I am also aware that English is not his first language and that sometimes we misspeak when trying to express deeply held emotions. So I acknowledge that the message he intended to give may not have been what was ultimately sent out to the masses.

But this is what was sent out: A message that implies that God only loves Christians. Or, if one admits that God loves all of the creation, it is a message that implies that only Christians can truly experience that love.

Healing and Heaven

I was working on a sermon about healing last week and had an amazing insight. Usually when we think about heaven we imagine a place where everything is perfect, a place where nothing is broken. We imagine a place where our physical and mental selves are whole and strong and healed. We envision healed relationships with loved ones who have died before us. And we envision an eternity in the presence of God; spiritual healing, if you will. In this picture of heaven all of the broken places in our lives have been healed.

But then I thought of the Gospel stories of Jesus’ resurrection.

An Election Lament

Today is election day. Never in my life have I been more happy to see an election come to an end. Instead of feeling patriotic and proud to participate in the election of our government leaders, I cast my vote with clenched teeth, angry and disappointed at what the process has become and wishing that I could cast a vote of “no confidence” in the whole lot.