Standing on the banks

When I first became a Christian, I remember the point when I was about to take communion in the Anglo-Catholic church for the first time.  There was a sense that I was standing on the banks of a river and to dip my toe in was to enter the stream of the church, which was at once history and present for thousands of years.  I could see my friends Peter and the apostles.  I could see the dusty, cold, wet monasteries, the huge cathedrals and the tiny home churches.  Candles and incense and the voices of the faithful singing to God, HOLY HOLY HOLY.  Perhaps I could even see the liturgy happening in Heaven at that very moment, beautiful and terrifying and full of LOVE as it is described in the scriptures, with the angels and saints falling down before his throne.  I remember knowing that once I dipped my toe into the stream, there was no turning back.  I would, forever more, be a tiny part of a magnificent stream of Christendom, which has existed for centuries, forever, and right this very moment.

And so, I stand on the banks, having dipped my toes for years.  Wondering if it is time to dive in head first.