The Transformative Work of a Gentle Dentist

Yesterday, I went to a new dentist. I’m currently on state medical so I had to find someone who would work with the state’s coverage. It had been about four years since I visited a dental chair, which means I was terrified I’d be called in to see him for the next six weeks to fill cavities and do damage control.

The dental hygienist was a cute young woman who hardly spoke a word of English, so my x-rays were quiet. Then she moved me to the chair and cleaned  my teeth in the same silent manner. I was tired and frazzled at the mania of the day, so the silent way she went about treating my teeth was welcome.

Afterwards, the dentist came over and told me I had three cavities that needed filling. He wanted to do the work immediately. I looked at my watch and cringed. I didn’t have the time for three cavities. He explained he’d be quick and it would take less than half an hour. I raised one eye-brow and thought to myself, on what planet does any dentist fill three cavities in half an hour? He assured me it would be quick. I nodded in acquiescence and leaned my head back.

He began the most gentle dental work I’ve ever received. When I asked about the novocaine, he explained that in my case, because the cavities were so superficial I didn’t need to be numb. He also explained that many dentists aren’t aware of the science of it all and so choose to numb their patients even when it’s unnecessary. It’s what they’re used to. What they’ve always done.

In less than twenty minutes the dentist had my cavities filled and I was headed out the door.

It was revolutionary.

* **

For a long time I thought gentleness was overrated. In my early twenties I believed truth and harsh were synonyms, that this world needed people willing to stand up and preach it. I was direct, forthright, sure of myself, and unwavering. I was also a pain in the ass to many people.

Then life’s storms come and blow us to oblivion and somehow, when we rise, we rise different.

I had a couple of gusty storms in my twenties and early thirties where the power went out for a few days, and I reevaluated my take on truth-telling, my opinion on opinion-sharing. I realized that people are a whole lot more interested in being loved than being told what’s right. So, I worked on being more gentle, being more tolerant of other people’s opinions. Honestly, becoming a mother was life transforming. When little brown eyes looked up at me with tears because I’d just blasted them with TRUTH, something changed me on an intrinsic level.

Then, a storm I never expected hit me like a hurricane. I didn’t see it coming, and it took me a long time to even process and understand it. It laid me so low I didn’t think think I’d ever rise again. Maybe I won’t. Not in the way I was before. I’ll probably always be a little broken because of it. I may always hobble, walk with a limp. That’s okay because it forces me to slow down and remember to see people. 

This is where the dentist comes in.

There’s so much harshness in this world. So much shaming and condemning and these stands people decide they must take. They stand for their right to have guns, they stand for gun-control. They stand for pro-choice, they stand for life. They stand for the right. They stand for the left. They stand for marriage. They stand for tolerance. Why does everyone have to do it with so much hatred and harshness, with so much disdain for the other? Why?

Meanwhile the storms of people’s personal lives are raging. 

It’s not that I don’t have thoughtful opinions about all these things. I think about guns and violence, about abortion and about the right and the left. I haven’t stopped thinking about my gay friends and how those shootings in Orlando were horrifying. I think about my role in all of this and what it would look like to become some sort of activist.

Then, I go to the dentist and he manages to fill three cavities without shooting me up with novocaine and it was the most peaceful experience with any dentist I’ve ever had.

It leads me to believe there is a better way. The way of a gentle healer. The way of a softly spoken word that heals, the way of truth lived out in loving friendships, the way of kindness and loving our neighbors.

Facebook and twitter have given us these grand sweeping platforms to tell our particular slant of truth. And boy do we use them. We stand on our corners and wave our fists at every one going by.

 Meanwhile, the storms of people’s personal lives are raging. 

There is a way that is gentle, a way that is filled with kindness and truth, with an aptly spoken word at a specific moment in time. Timing is everything. People are worried they’re being treated unfairly and they’re losing their right to this or that … and for us as Christians … we best be careful. We best be thoughtful about demanding our rights and making sure we are heard.

We have chosen to follow in the footsteps of a man who laid down his rights and emptied himself of all that he had claim to in order to be about a kingdom that has no beginning and will have no end … It’s a counterintuitive kingdom.

I’m not saying we have no rights and to just take it. Of course not. I believe in upholding the rights of the citizens of any country. I believe in majority rule and minority rights. I believe in speaking out. In democracy and freedom. But as a Christian my first allegiance is to another kingdom.

I am saying truth without-love-in-action is a resounding gong and has no lasting power.

I am saying that if I give all I possess to the poor but have no love I have done nothing.

I am saying that if I preach it up and can fathom great incredible mysteries but don’t have love, it’s irrelevant.

I am saying that gentleness is more powerful than I ever imagined.

For Reflection and Conversation: Have the storms in your life changed you? How?

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