Learning to Run

I HATE dentists.

Not really, my dentist is an amazing fellow with great staff.  If you come to Cold Lake, I’ll hook you up.

It would be more correct to say I hate going to dentists. Sure, they are expensive, they take time, and they remind me of hospitals…

Honestly, they terrify me because I am afraid of pain. I’m a coward.  For all of my adult life, I have avoided going to the dentist. Why?

Fear. Simple fear.

Fear of the monetary cost. Fear of the pain.

Fear.

I’m writing this from the dentist chair (mobile WordPress) and I’m scared half to death again.

But I’m getting stuff fixed regardless of the pain.

Cavities equal pain, and the funny thing is they never get better without intervention. You need help.  More than one helper actually.  In my case, I had three,  the dentist and a couple assistants.

My soul has had cavities for years, giant gaping voids of festering agony. I hid them because it seemed the private pain was preferable to exposing the rot to the world.  So my smiles were small, my friends few, and nobody got close enough to examine my soul.

My dentist does great work, and someday soon I might smile without worrying about what someone thinks of my teeth.  Or maybe I’ll eat ice cream or drink hot tea without white-hot pokers in my mouth.   You know, like a normal, healthy person.

God does perfect work, and I’m learning to open my soul for His instruments.  He has a lot of them, and they all look pretty scary.  Absolute truth is one.  Complete transparency is another. (If neither of these scares you a little, well, you are either Daniel the prophet, blind to your faults or a liar.)   There are lots of other tools, like a wife who won’t quit, songs of redemption, and that wonderful razor of the Word of God.  And they hurt too, but only on the diseased stuff.  Just like a dentist’s pick, they don’t hurt on healthy hearts.

God does His work with precision and love.  He doesn’t hurt any more than necessary but His goal is healing – not pain relief.  The funny thing is that while the pain in my soul is beyond incredible right now, in a way it hurts less than before.  There is a plan and purpose behind the pain, not the senseless destruction of sin.  And it is a relief to see an end to the pain somewhere in the years ahead.  In the darkness of last year, I  thought I would go to my grave screaming in silence, that I would still be shattered and wounded in old age, unable to share my soul or truly enjoy life or let my grandchildren know who I really was.  But the fear was way worse than the pain is.  John said “fear hath torment” (1Jo 4:8) and you’d better believe it.  All the external discomfort is nothing compared to the soul-rending fear that used to plague me.

And while there is no known morphine for the soul, He has a wonderful way of easing the pain by bearing it for us, and with us.

Isaiah 53:4 Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. 

Get it?  He bore my griefs and carried my sorrows.  Even the ones that are self-inflicted.

Sitting here a few minutes ago the dental assistant had to step out for a minute and asked if I would be ok.  (It was nice not to be left alone wrestling with the suction hose.)  But the Holy Spirit never leaves, not even for a minute, no matter how I grieve Him or bitterly complain about the merciful work He is doing in my soul.  He’s not offended by my manner or bothered by my breath.  He even invites me to practice being open and transparent with Him, because He already knows more about my issues than I do.

He bore them once already.  And yet He is tender enough to walk with me through it again in the present.  What a Saviour!

1 Peter 5:7 Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.

CPH

 

Man of Sorrows! what a name
For the Son of God, who came
Ruined sinners to reclaim.
Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Bearing shame and scoffing rude,
In my place condemned He stood;
Sealed my pardon with His blood.
Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Guilty, vile, and helpless we;
Spotless Lamb of God was He;
“Full atonement!” can it be?
Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Lifted up was He to die;
“It is finished!” was His cry;
Now in Heav’n exalted high.
Hallelujah! What a Savior!

When He comes, our glorious King,
All His ransomed home to bring,
Then anew His song we’ll sing:
Hallelujah! What a Savior!

-P.P.Bliss