Seek x-rays

Going to the dentist isn’t one of my favorite things in life. Granted, I don’t utterly fear the chair as some do. I do live in constant terror of needles, but since I’ve gotten in the habit of warning my dentists about this fear, they let me know well in advance of when a local anesthetic will be administered so I can close my eyes and go through the whole procedure without seeing it. Which helps. Kind of.
But last week I realized another reason why I am anxious at the dentist. During my second visit to the dentist last week (yes, I was there twice), they did a full set of x-rays of my mouth. I found myself looking over the technician’s shoulder, attempting to interpret her every facial expression as she scanned the screens. When she looked concerned, my eyes anxiously darted to the x-ray, then back to her face. What did she see that I couldn’t? Then the dreaded words: “there are some suspicious areas the doctor will take a look at…”
I found myself instantly defensive, angry. I brush my teeth. I floss my teeth. Look at my teeth! They are fine! Don’t tell me they’re rotting, for goodness sake! (Yes, I have a propensity for overreaction. As if you didn’t know that already.)
I know this perspective is silly, even harmful in the long run. X-rays are a tool for us to see what we cannot with the naked eye so problems can be fixed before they become serious, even life-threatening.
I was reminded of this fact during a totally unrelated conversation with a new acquaintance at dinner last week. This young woman was raised in the church, participated in a bunch of college ministries, even served as a summer missionary in Japan (not exactly your easiest mission field). But after her undergrad, she decided that God was no longer important to her, and no one could tell her what to do anymore; after all, people liked her for her, not because she did “church stuff.” She quipped, almost as an aside, that she wondered whether she had been saved in the first place.
“Does that matter to you?” I asked.
She pondered for a moment, then, with an almost shrug, came the telling answer-that-almost-wasn’t: “I don’t really know how to answer that question.”
I don’t think I really understood that some people preach the gospel without truly believing it themselves until that moment. That is to say, I appreciated the possibility, but I didn’t grasp the reality and tragedy of it. The conversation was heart wrenching.
Walking home from dinner, my soul ached for this young woman. I wondered what had gone wrong; I wondered where she got confused, if she had ever truly believed, and if so what that meant. I wondered how many other young Christian women had looked to her for encouragement and inspiration as she spent time in the mission field, never thinking twice about the spiritual turmoil she was obviously experiencing just below the surface even as she brought the gospel to others.
Then my thoughts turned inward. I reflected on the seasons of life when I sought to avoid the spiritual x-rays that promised to tell me the truth about myself. The scrutiny of those who loved me. Scripture. Quiet time and prayer. Anything that would pierce the surface and reveal that I wasn’t actually doing all that great.
By God’s grace, I’ve come through those times to the other side, to His marvelous Light. His pursuing and persevering love has been faithful to show me the truth about my condition. Reminding me that, while I am His child, I am far from immune to the siren songs of this world. That there are lies I believe about Him, about myself, that keep me from living as I should.
My conversation with my new friend reminded me that we believers need to be watchful over one another. I’m not talking about cultivating a spirit of hyper-criticism; I’m talking about not becoming weary in well-doing, and that might mean the occasional awkward conversation with a friend whose words or habits seem to be overly conforming to the world instead of the Word. And being open to examination. We have a responsibility to drive each other to the One who will tell us the truth about ourselves, even when we don’t want to hear it, and supporting each other through those dark times, the seasons of questions and silence. Because if we don’t hold to that truth, if we don’t spur each other on, the consequences are real. And they are heartbreaking.