I am one year in to being a confirmed member of the Body of Christ and it has been a wild and wonderful ride.
Pentecost is my anniversary. And while my conditional baptism and confirmation weren't quite as life-upside-down-ish as my original Big Dunk, it has been a year of feeling more and more knitted into the fabric of our Lord's cloak.
My Catholic friends and relatives keep telling me that 'yeah, that's great, but you need to come all the way home.' (Direct quote from my brother in law who was visiting this weekend.)
I have come to understand that my faith, to the rest of the world, is never going to be 'right'. For my atheist family, it is too much. For my Catholic relatives, it is not enough. For my liberal friends I am too traditional, for my conservative brothers and sisters, I am way too liberal. And my Pentecostal friends are pretty sure that my interest in things liturgical must be a delusion, or worse.
But this morning, when, in my pajamas, I went over to the fence to talk to my neighbor whose mom just had surgery for pancreatic cancer... my faith was just exactly right. I'll pray for her, I said. And you.
'She is going to be a testimony,' he said. 'We all believe she can beat this.'
And suddenly, I too, believed that she could beat it. Even though I know it is the worst cancer there is. Even though my brother in law and grandfather both died of it. The strength of his conviction was so powerful I suddenly believed that Jesus could and would kick some cancer ass for this woman.
Today, my faith is exactly the right size.
Heal your servant, Edna. Give her strength and courage. Be with her family as they support her through this. Heal your servant, Lord, that she may continue to do your good works.