Dentophobia - an extreme or irrational fear of dental work

I very, very much dislike going to the dentist, but surely that does not make me phobic.  Really, wouldn't mental illness be more closely connected with any individual who in some way enjoys going to the dentist?  Actually I like my dentist.  She has a sweet voice even as she pulverizes my molars and gums with her miniature jackhammer and bloodletting lancet.  She is an attractive lady, and I like looking into her hazel eyes, until I am awakened by the sharp pain of razor wire being run between my teeth.  

Religiously I visit this person at least twice per year.  Today was that day.  I insist upon no small talk; I am not there for chitchat, but for necessary anxiety and torture.  And I insist upon careful personal examination and query about every move she makes.  
Let me see those x-rays, please.  
What are you doing with that instrument?  
Define toothbrush abrasion.  
What do you mean by wuss?

I believe in Hell, although I'm not sure the specifics of the place.  I remember an old Twilight Zone episode.  A rough and scary biker has a tragic accident, and awakens in a strange place.  At first he is relieved to find he is not immersed in burning flames.  He looks around the non-descript room and encounters an old man and old lady.  They simply sit and rock.  And then one- I'm not sure which- walks over to an old phonograph and puts on a whiny country-western album.  He and she then sit and rock enjoyably to the beat.  The biker considers incredulously what is happening and recognizes there is an endless stack of such music.  He is destined for this room, companionship, and music for all eternity.  The episode ends with him clutching his face, screaming in terror.  Indeed, he has arrived in Hell.

Also I remember the old movie starring Dustin Hoffman, The Marathon Man.  Particularly I recall his torture episode at the hands of a sadistic dentist.  These memories, and my experience today, make me want to be a very, very good boy.

I know of some serious needs that I feel rather sure that God would want my church to help meet.  A widow, of meager means, needs tires for her car.  A man out of work needs help with his insurance.  And a single mother would like to provide Christmas for her children.  I've told our Deacons about the specifics of these matters and we decided to ask the church to help.  Our desire is to keep the specific identities secret, for the sake of privacy and respect.  So I've mentioned the matter to the congregation and asked that those who feel impressed to help to pass along their contributions to myself or one of the deacons.  And, so far the response has been minimal.

Last night, at a small gathering, I was asked how things were going with this situation.  I told the group I was a bit disappointed that more help has not come along.  Some questions ensued, along with conversation, and I developed a bit of uneasiness with the matter.  One lady started asking about personal identities of those in need.  I've made a solemn commitment to try to keep their identities private.  Why does this person need to know?  Then another lady said that she absolutely will not give cash.  She said to simply pass along the money and not be directly involved in the transaction is "to be robbed of the joy of giving".  Most of those sitting around nodded with agreement.  I asked if this was a matter of trust?  These people have entrusted me with the responsibility of being their pastor.  I have an eight year track record of being a person of integrity, and so it seems to me they can trust me with connecting the needs with the funds.  

And then I looked toward this person who seemed quite settled in her insistence that the joy of giving is in the transaction.  I told her that, in my understanding, the pure essence of giving is to insist upon no recognition.  I mentioned Matthew 6:3-4, "But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing that your alms may be in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will repay you."  It seems clear to me that we are not to be seeking recognition or affirmation when we make a gift as an expression of our faith.  It is a sacred matter of worship.

As I usually do, I analyzed the matter to death.  Even as we continued to converse, I quickly surmised that my ultimate goal was to help some needy people, not to defend my trustworthiness or to lecture others concerning the nature of giving.  So I compromised!  After more conversation, we decided it would be best to mention the needs and to keep the recipients anonymous.  Someone needs two tires and a front-end alignment.  Another needs help with an insurance bill.  And, another would like to provide a merry Christmas for her children.  

One man said he would just go buy the gifts, give them to the mother, and then the mother could pretend they were from her!  To me, this was still too much an effort for recognition on his part.

Am I being too insistent about the nature of selfless giving?

PALIN INTERVIEW AS TURKEY SLAUGHTERED

(Please, please click the above link) 

I'm sorry, but this is funny, in an extremely gross way of course.  I voted for the McCain/Palin ticket, and I realize this video is not posted for her positive benefit.  But... as I watch her, smiling and glib and perky, with cup of java in hand.... discussing politics and matters of state... as a turkey is being decapitated and bled in the background- I find this to be hilarious.  I am sitting here at the computer laughing harder than I have done in months.  She talks as the poor creature is placed into the funnel.  The henchman watches with a dazed look, systematic and disinterested in his slaughter.  I'm pretty sure he is not Secretary of State material.

Wait- I will watch it one more time...

O.K.  I guess it is not so funny the second time.  Pretty sick, I guess.  The poor turkey is flopping and quivering, and head is systematically being removed in the giant funnel, as Jason/Michael Myers squeezes out her life and stares out into space.  Through the ordeal, Palin's squeeky and happy voice rises in grating intensity.  No, it's not funny.....  Who am I kidding?  I'll stop lying- this is better than a Seinfeld rerun.

By the way, I have four frozen butterball turkeys in the freezer.  Who knows, maybe one was decapitated during this interview?  
Want one?  Send e-mail request to pastorwithsicksenseofhumo r.tbog.com.

Oops.  The granddaughter just found a fly.  We must play our little game of Pick The Wings Off The Fly as we watch the video once again.

Today I’ll pass along my semi-annual reflections on t-Blog.

I’m sorry to hear that kurtmaddox has chosen to erase his blog.  Kurt has been integral to this community since before I came onboard, which was four years ago.  He has proven to be a gadfly, pest, and highly irritating ex-Baptist agnostic who seems most often to be on the opposite end of the conversation and therefore highly valuable.  In this venue I use conversation to develop my thinking, which is something I just cannot get by hanging around people who are too much like myself.  It would be a shame for t-Blog to deteriorate into a hang-out for a bunch of folk who think and live alike.  Such is my church and I love it.  But I need something different from this place.  The challenge makes me sharper.  And Kurt, like so many of the rest of you, at times has served well as a whetstone for my mind and heart.

So, as Kurt has moved along, it gets me to thinking about what I need to do.  Often life seems too busy, and sometimes I do not feel very creative.  And a couple of these personalities around here have really hit me the wrong way in the last few months.  But I’m not going to leave.  Not now.  I like the place and the personalities, even the ones that right now I will not sit down and have a cup of coffee with.  Such will pass, similar to being angry with a cousin or an old friend.  And such is what this place has become to me- a place to regularly connect with people I’ve come to know, at least in a cyber-kind-of-way.  It may be for just a few minutes.  Sometimes it may involve a simple and surface conversation.  Ah, but sometimes I’ll be surprised and energized by a long and meaningful exchange.  Or I’ll hear something I do not know, or something said will tickle me and truly make my day better.  And, so expresses the value of this community.

I know, even as I write, that it sounds a bit strange.  I’m not a guy who shies away from social interaction or has nothing to do.  My life is busy and rewarding outside of this place.  But… sometime during the day, and usually several times, I’ll log onto t-Blog to see what is happening.  Why?  As corny as it sounds, it’s now a part of my life.  It’s my friendly, dysfunctional, cyber-family.

And, Kurt, I truly wanted to interact with your last post.  An agnostic, anti-religionist, Bible-discounting ex-Baptist, now a tree-hugging liberal, preaching the Sunday morning sermon in a little country church?  I have a few opinions about that!

 This morning I am heading out for a couple of days of retreat.  I've a friend with a modest place on Lake Sinclair who has generously offered it for my use anytime.  My intention is to spend this time in prayer and Bible study and hopefully gain a bit of re-energizing for the days ahead.  With life being so hectic, of which I am sure you can relate, it becomes even more important to make time for solitude and reflection.  I am not an extrovert.  I do not feed off crowds and people, and truly enjoy quiet times and places.  This will be good.

There is no wi-fi where I am going.  Heck, I cannot even get a signal with my cell phone.  However, the home does have a dial-up connection, and later tonight I would like to get on board t-Blog and try to interact with the previous post.  My intention was not to portray humility or self-abasement, but to simply deal with the fact that as a human being I've got a lot to learn.  Struggling with such foibles as vengence & pettiness is part of that process.  More later!

This cabin is about 20 miles from Sparta, GA.  You might recall that Sparta is town featured in the longrunning tv show, In The Heat Of The Night.  Long ago a spent a couple of days in Sparta valiantly trying to sell a product and thus feed my family.  I remember the good folks at the town hall who did not like traveling salesmen!  But I do not recall running into Chief Gillespie or Officer Tibbs.  Maybe this time.

Gotta go!  Maybe I'll take my little dog, spend some time bonding?

 

Recently I had a rather pointed exchange with a person.  I was quite irritated with what I considered to be her mistreatment of a mutual acquaintance.  We both said some hard things and I went away from the conversation with an abiding dislike for the current version of this person that I have known for several years.  And I made the decision to avoid her in the future.

A few days ago I went to the hospital to visit a paritioner.  Walking to the elevator, I unexpectedly encountered a fellow church member.  She asked if I intended to visit Angie there in the hospital?  I knew she was there.  I told her no, that given our recent differences of opinion, that she and her family probably would not appreciate my visit.  Smugly, I promised to pray for her, and moved on.  As I rounded the corner of the hallway, I met Angie's husband.  He was at best an acquaintance.  But he rushed to meet me with his face as white as a sheet.  He told me some really alarming news about her condition, and urged me to go into the ICU to speak with her and have prayer.  He seemed most hurried in his insistence.  So I walked confidently into the room, although inside I was still a bit cautious.  She and I made eye contact, and I could see that she was definitely hurting and afraid.  We talked for just a moment- this lady was in no condition for conversation.  And then I held her hand and we prayed.  As I left, with a weary plea she asked that I please continue to pray for her healing.  I have.

How petty and insignificant become our trifling little spats at times like these.
How small I become when I dare to tie the value of a person onto the latest affront to my ego.
A few weeks ago, her perceived insult was a matter of great irritation.  Now it absolutely does not matter.

She sent word today that she really wants me to come by her house for prayer.  I am broken, and honored, by her request.

It will not be long until once again I will sit upon Santa’s lap.  He will ask the prerequisites about me being a good boy.  Of course I am!  And I’m working now to be prepared for the follow-up. 

“And what do you want for Christmas, young man?”

Certainly not that old brown paper bag, containing various fruit and nuts and a stick of candy.  I am thinking hard about what I want for Christmas.  Peace on earth… Obama’s conversion to conservatism…?&nbs p; This time it is rather selfish and material. 

I think I want a t-Mobile Wing.  It is a cell phone/PDA with Windows Mobile 6 and a touch screen.  I have not been able to actually see one at a t-Mobile store because the item has been discontinued!  However, it is still provided by ATT under a different name, the Tilt.  What I think I would like about this particular phone is the ability to access the web, including the downloading of files.  And I would like to be able to save text, including Bible text, for reading at my convenience.  I have a large amount of Bible study software on my Palm Tungsten t-3, and the providers generously offer free conversion to Windows Mobile.

I am not real smart with cell phones.  I’ve always had just the basic. 

Here’s the details of the phone & plan:
*t-Mobile Wing - $99, with two year commitment.  This comes with a $50 rebate, so it will end up costing $49.
*600 anytime minutes, unlimited nights and weekends - $40
*Unlimited web access - $20

How about it?  Is this a good deal, will it take care of my needs/wants?  Maybe there is a better plan, a better phone?  I’m counting on some genuine technophiles around here to help me out. 

Who knows, but maybe Santa would say:  “Look Buddy, that phone you’re after is a piece of junk.  What you need is a good bb gun….”

Bruno is a kind and curious little boy, growing up in Hitler’s Germany sometime around the beginning of WWII.  His dad does something for the military.  Bruno is not sure what, and it really does not matter too much- he is simply busy trying to be a kid.  And they seem in many ways a good family: handsome, laughing, professional, with a nice home.  Soon the family must move to the countryside to accommodate his father’s work.  The new home is more like a guarded compound.  Dad is too busy, older sister enamored with a young soldier, mom working hard to facilitate her husband with his added responsibilities, and so the young man quickly finds life to be monotonous.  Then he notices from an upstairs window the farm located a distance away.  Who are those people and what are the activities on this farm?  And what’s with the smokestacks regularly belching out such horrid odors?  Answers come to the child from many people, and all evasive.  Dad simply says it is about business, and the persons on the farm are “not really people”.  Mom is extremely uncomfortable about the whole matter, and offers no reply.  Bruno is surprised to learn that the one person from the farm that he comes to know, a crippled and fearful little man who peels potatoes for the compound, was a physician in a far-removed previous life.

One day Bruno sneaks from his guarded home to venture over to the farm.  There he spies barbed wire, electric fences, vicious dogs and armed soldiers, and dirty and strange people wearing what appear to be striped pajamas.  Divided by the fence, he manages to strike up a friendship with a little boy named Schmuel.  Regularly they rendezvous at the same spot.  Bruno brings him food.  With childish simplicity, he becomes more and more fascinated with the mystery of the farm.  To him, it offers excitement and adventure, like the fantasy novels he likes to read. 

The film is dark, the end devastating. 

This was a film that I left in silence.  It was necessary to step aside for a moment, for composure.  And I’ve thought long and hard about it.

How easily evil becomes tolerable, and ultimately acceptable.  The Germans, at least in this movie, are too much like me for personal comfort.  They are a good, loving, decent family.  They go to church.  They laugh.  They treat people like themselves with considerable kindness.  And, directly or implicitly, they methodically and relentlessly participate in the deaths of millions of defenseless human beings.

So, how do such beautiful and God-fearing people end up doing such awful things?  For dad, it is simply a matter of duty to a Higher Calling.  For mom, it involves willful ignorance.  It takes wars and guns to overcome the former.  At this moment, I am most concerned about the latter.  She loved her husband, her nice and comfortable life, and her adorable son.  And she tenaciously wanted such to be the definition of her life.  Sure, she knew about the darker elements of her culture.  But, she devised a life strategy that she thought would be sufficient for herself and those she cared about the most.  She chose willful ignorance about the issues, and intentional distance from the people.

This woman likely did not “hate” Jews.  She did not know any, and made sure never to have to look one in the eye.  Concerning her husband’s work and the putrid smoke from the ovens far in the distance?  Well, those things were concerns of national business, and those smokestacks were far off in the distance.  And, besides, she had shopping to do!
_________________

A friend, and fellow church goer, said he would not vote for Obama because of the color of his skin.  He said blacks were violent by nature and that Obama was not qualified, because of race, to be president.  I listened with discomfort, but said nothing.  And I’ve thought about that moment quite a bit.  I have sought diligently to be tolerant of his statement and justifying of my silence.  But in the end, I sat silent because his warped beliefs furthered my ultimate vote.

Yes.  I may not be like Bruno’s dad.  But I am too much like his mom.

My first vote for President was cast for Jimmy Carter, when I was 18 years of age. He was a grassroots candidate with a big smile who preached the mantra of change, and I believed it. I was a freshman at Samford University especially drawn to Carter's willingness to express his Christian faith. I was told he came to the school at the beginning of his campaign and hardly anyone showed up to hear what he had to say. Now people were listening. Since faith was at the forefront of my life, my ears perked up whenever he broached the subject. He told us he was “born again” and I nodded with approval. He confided he lusted after women, but only in his mind. I could relate! He was member of a small Baptist church. It became the focus of unwanted attention when the national press discovered it was exclusively white in membership, a fact of life about rural churchs for all of us in the South, but apparently not so acceptable to much of the rest of the country. In the coming weeks, a black radical pressed the church for membership. Carter got on the phone to encourage the church leadership to acquiesce. The pastor resigned. The petitioner was voted into the church fellowship, although I'm rather sure he did not prove to be active in attendance. And, Jimmy Carter moved on to be elected President. I think he was a good man. I voted for him twice.

My record for selecting the president has been about 50%. For what it's worth, here are my votes:
Carter, Carter, Mondale, Bush, Bush, Dole, Bush, Bush

Interestingly, I at the time I never voted for a man whom I now highly respect, Ronald Reagan.

My wife and daughter are in line, right now, to cast their votes. To my chagrin, one of them promises to counter my vote!

Yesterday I conversed with a lady who told whom she wanted to see elected as President. I asked her why, and she said she just liked him. So I asked her to name one issue, just one, in which she agrees with her candidate. She could not! Later I discovered she would most likely not even vote. That is probably good! An uninformed electorate, making decisions for surface and shallow reasons, is dangerous. That's likely why our founding fathers made sure we would be a Representative Republic, and not a pure Democracy.

If my preferred candidate does not win this election, I am going to do my best to behave with a modicum of dignity and class in the aftermath. As best I can, I am not going to be bitter and angry. I am going to wish and hope for the best. America has some serious problems, and extreme political partisanship is right at the top of the list. Both of these guys end their rallies by saying “God bless America!” I am going to cast aside my skepticism, and believe they truly mean it.

Finally, here's Bible verse that makes sense to me, and why I always have hope even in political matters:

Proverbs 21:1 (NRSV)
¹ The king's heart is a stream of water in the hand of the LORD; he turns it wherever he will.