Why I Like My Dentist
My memories of going to the dentist as a child are horrific – fillings put in without anaesthetic! Agony and torture. Remember, these were the days before fluoride in our water supply – which means we’re talking lots of fillings. So for me to turn around today and say that I like my dentist … either I’m smoking something I shouldn’t be, or things have changed.
Well, much of the pain has gone out of the equation, that’s for sure. But that’s not the only thing.
So, here’s why I like my dentist …
- He Knows My Name: He always addresses me by name when I walk into the surgery – Hi Berni, how are you? He’s welcoming, he’s professional and he’s deliberate about making me feel at ease – and believe you me, that’s important given the deep mental scarring from my childhood!
- He Remembers My History: Every time I’ve been to see him, he makes sure he’s right across my history. He obviously reads my card before my appointment – so he “remembers” that two years ago I had a bit of sensitivity in my upper, left molars. How’s that going? And by the way, how did that replacement filling work out from last year. He’s right on the ball (unlike my doctor, who never remembers anything – I have to fill him in each time). That sort of deliberate, consistent professionalism shows me that he cares, and it gives me a sense that I’m in safe hands.
- He Asks Me Why I’m There: Before I even sit down in the chair, he asks me “So … why are you here?” Is it just a check up, or is something wrong? Where does it hurt? Is it a constant pain, or only when you eat something hot or cold? He wants to understand my need, so he can figure out how to help.
- He’s Good at Fixing It: He’s deliberate in his diagnosis, and he applies his skills to fixing my problem. And he’s diligent, he follows up, he makes sure that it’s done. Pain gone. Problem dealt with. That is, after all, what he’s there for, right?
- He Manages My Pain: Whenever he has to hack away on the inside to fix something, it’s going to hurt. Jim always gives me something for the pain first. So unlike the horrific torture I experienced as a young lad in the dentist’s chair, I feel something more akin to mild discomfort. That I can live with.
So here’s my question:
When someone with a need walks into your church this coming Sunday (be they a newbie or an old-timer) what will they experience? Will they be prepared to go home afterwards and write a post on their blog called “Why I Like My Church”?