03.16.06 Flossing as an Act of Hope
Lately it crossed my mind that flossing my teeth may not matter any more. If I'm dying, what's the point? My teeth are in good shape (one of God's providential blessings in my life is that I have never had a cavity.) Just think: going to bed without any pre-bedtime rigmarole. Bliss. But somehow I just couldn't do it. And it wasn't the guilt of abandoned habit or improper hygiene crying out to my conscience. Rather, I realized that I would be caving in (in a small way) to hopelessness. Flossing your teeth is hardly earth-shaking. But somehow, it felt like giving up. I don't know what God is going to do with this cancer. So many people are praying for me/us. God might choose to extend my life, even bring me healing for years to come. I have not given up hope, and I'm not going to start a slide down the slippery slope.
Guess what? Each night flossing my teeth has become an act of faith and hope! At least one point in every day I am reminded that until I draw my final breath, God is my hope. And he can do as he alone is able.
In truth, I still sometimes feel the bother of flossing on the occasional late night, but each time I come to that moment of flossing, I am reminded that I want to live and that God is a God in whose faithfulness I can trust. He may choose not to heal me, but my choice is to hope in Him. If I die, my hope is in his resurrection. If I live, my hope is in Christ as well.
And this has applied across the board in my day-to-day life. What joy the little things in life have become. I might even learn that taking out the garbage is blessing. Okay. That's a bit much for now.