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09.25.26
I got my wisdom teeth removed four days ago and have been on a soft diet ever since. It's tough but doable, though the constant pressure and tightness in the jaw don't help. I was icing my face quite a bit for the first two days and went on a strict ibuprofen schedule to make sure I didn't lose my mind from the pain. But what really kept me going through the most intense bouts of pain and bleeding wasn't the ice or any painkiller; it was the awareness that I am headed toward recovery. I had certainty that this would come to an end and that I would be in a much better state once I reached that threshold. The red, drenched gauze pads are just one of the several necessary steps I need to go through in order to reach that endpoint. The instruction manual said it'll take about a week to ten days to fully recover, though I'm not completely sure. But whenever it is that I get to take my first bite of a Papa Johns cheesy crust, I knew and still know that it will happen. That day is coming, and I am getting closer and closer and closer to it every second that I exist. Even now, I am closer to the end than I was when I started writing.
It's almost cliche, how strikingly similar it is to the Christian afterlife. Paul and his co-laborers did not lose heart because they believed that while their outer selves were wasting away, their inner selves were being renewed day by day. Renewed, meaning they were becoming more like what they should be. Not only that, they were destined to get there, to that place of eternal glory. So what is pain? What is loss? It'll all come to an end someday.
As it is with all analogies, the extraction isn't a perfect representation of the Christian life. Because even with the most trustworthy of doctors, I never know what might happen that would disrupt my recovery process. Maybe I'll get into an accident. Maybe I'll get dry socket. Maybe I'll have an infection and need to take more antibiotics. And even if everything healed perfectly, I can never be sure of what comes after that. So there is no promise of perfect health and comfort. But with heaven, that promise certainly stands, even if my belief in it wavers. And with that in mind, I can endure the day-to-day stressors (and hopefully other, bigger issues too) that make it hard for me to believe in God right now.