It’s not much of a river today. In fact, it’s little more than an 18 mile creek that flows from the central mountains and on the sea. Her fortunes have changed in the past two millennia and now with the loss of feeding springs at its headwaters, she has become remarkably unimpressive. The observer would be hard pressed to see this trickle of water as a river forever enmeshed in human history. It was here that the words “alea iacta est.” I’m certain my fellow history-nerds know the rest of the story here.
Today I stand at my own Rubicon, with dice in hand. My application is complete, All I need to do at this point is whip off a cover letter, write a check and head for the mailbox. This will set the ordination process into motion, leading to an undiscovered country within the Anglican Communion. It’s a moment frozen out of time as I’m experiencing a strange mix of the senses of rectitude and butterflies in the stomach. I’m settled on the fact that I’ve been called in eternity past and born to this moment. Yet simultaneously, there is this subtle, but nervous sense of fear that is smoldering just beneath the surface.
I’ve been here before. I’ve stood on this bridge on July 8th 1980 on the eve of my entrance into the Armed Forces, on September 3rd 1982 on the eve of my wedding, and on the platform at Huntington Station on November 2nd 1997 before departing for Camp Humphreys Korea. Each of these was destiny-defining moments in my life. I’m certain that October 26th 2007 will join these days of destiny. Still, I’m always a bit gobsmacked by the by the underlying sense of trepidation though.
So, what’s next? That waits to be seen. For now, its time to let the dice fly…
Alea iacta est!
P.S. You Rock Gaius Julius...
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