Life is bizarre. Thankfully, I find humor in it, perhaps too much. Like last week, Ryan held an intervention over my Fatal Attraction binge watching. No, not the movie- weirdo. It’s the lesser-known, underrated, back-page find on NetFlix. The show’s about folks, who due to hubris, hoard exotic animals that cause their demise. I won’t go into the tasty details, but there was this one guy, Ted, and due to a sappy-sad childhood, he created a personal zoo of tigers in Ohio. One morning during feeding time, the genius turned his back (personal note- never turn your back amongst apex predators), and well...he tasted GRRREEAAAT! (Worst Dad Joke Ever)

So why watch such trash? I guess deep inside there’s this need for reassurance. You see, when you live in a state where 70% of the year is filled with gray skies, sometimes it’s nice to know you’re not tiger kibble and bits, emphasis on the bits. That’s how today felt. Ever have those days? The ones where you look around, and wish you were anywhere but here? 

Currently, it’s snowing in April, and I have an abscess. Next stop root canal, or detour to extraction. Happy Monday. Pretty sure, anyone else would be devastated, but for me, it’s like someone getting my order wrong- I know, weird. That’s because, ever since my little pearly whites pushed through, I’ve been sitting in the dentist chair. I’ve lost count on fillings, and I’m certain I have more crowns than the royal family. I have one implant, on my second abscess, and root canals are a cake walk. The hygienist still demonstrates how to brush properly, and so cleanings have become courtroom drama. The brush-floss questions are accusations, and I always retort, “It’s in the genes, I brush five times a day!”. She rolls her eyes. Ryan said, “we need a new dentist”, I said, “I need a new mouth”. You know it’s bad, when a dentist thanks you for helping him put his kiddos through college. Nowadays, I laugh at the newbies trying to decipher my X-Rays. They stare into the black and white as if to search for some meaning, the “how” to “what went wrong”. 

So when your file’s 10 inches thick, everyone in scrubs knows my name- but this is nothing like Cheers. I hate the place. Rather watch every episode of Cailou, then recline back, feel the prick of Novocaine, and hear drill, drill, drill. Actually, My teeth are something I’m sensitive about, probably more insecure. Whether I was a teen and heard the dentist lower his voice to present a grave report, then skip on over with a bouncy Hooray! for the next patient, I felt like a loser.

Somehow, every trip to the dentist chair turned into another failed report, another shortcoming. With each filling, I would tell myself, next time will be different- nope. 

So I hid my teeth. My smiles were toothless, my laughs were covered. Of course, it didn’t help that my brother, who’s dental hygiene consisted of a wipe down with a rag, popped out of the chair with flying colors. His picture was even plastered on the “Cavity-Free Kids Wall”, and there were prizes. Mine was a goodie bag of free Listerine. I was envious of those cavity-free folks. Jess, my best friend, was one. As kids, I went with her during a cleaning. She was so cool and confident in the chair, even relaxed like it was a spa. The hygienist even gave her the remote control.   When she left for prizes, Jess sprayed me with the water pick, like she owned the place. Not like my gulag, there were drills, obscene pictures of gum disease, random pointy things, and if you’re lucky, Novocain.  

Finally, once Ryan and I got married, the dental deities gave me a revelation . Very similar to being kid and realizing the origin of Chicken McNuggets. I noticed how our same brushes, same toothpaste, and same routine had different results. We looked like a split-screen mouthwash commercial, where on the bottom in fine print it reads: results may vary. You guessed it, Ryan, with his disentail cleanings, passed the gauntlet of second opinions and side whispers. I was the exception, the fine print, and learned correlation is not causation. It’s easy to assume that when upsetting events are strung together, there’s a cause and effect relationship. Here’s a common example: 

Children that watch a lot of TV are more violent. Clearly, TV makes most children violent.

Obviously, this is a fallacy, unless it’s that show Cailou- that whiney voice will make anyone go nuts. But,  I’ve seen this fallacy is used on God’s relationship with us. I’ve watched good Christians take small trials string them together to make sense of their mishaps. And so, flat tires, poor grades, failed relationships, gray skies or root canals are looped and thrown into the cosmos for an answer- the Why me..? Or How Come..?  inquisition. In the pews, they’re Eeyore, scared, stuck in that triangular shack, endless rainy days, droopy-eyed faith. Even more so, some see trials as heavenly corrections from God. As if God is perched on a cloud, cotton candy beard, corn cob pipe, shotgun cocked, ready for a blessings shootout. So it’s Bang! High-blood pressure. Bang! Acne. Bang! Bang! Break-ups. 

So as Christians, sequencing bad news, is much like putting stock into horoscopes or fortune cookies. My cavity party was caused from a predisposition in genetics not a lesson from God.

Jesus said.: In this world you will have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome the world. (John 16:33) 

Every Christian will tell you, “there’s no such thing as luck”. Good luck. Bad luck. It’s a superstitious nonsense. But then they turn around and ask God to bless a greasy cheeseburger from Five Guys. They cheer and thank the Lord for his unmerited favor when snagging a close parking space. They beg God for their son’s little league team to win the quarter finals. At what point does our interaction with the Creator become a string of good or bad things instead of a relationship? There’s a fine line between being grateful for a stroke of good fortune and claiming God’s favor. Like a Midas touch, we’re in awe of people who are able to float through life. Their lives seem enchanted. You know what? Every day isn’t a Friday. And that’s ok. Because the anger you feel as rain pours down onto your preplanned perfect camping trip is being celebrated by the farmer who was worried about drought. The rain falls. That’s not God’s favor or disfavor. It’s evaporation. But take heart. Jesus has overcome the world. Isn’t that nice?