If you don’t know me very well, this may surprise you, but I am, by nature, pretty much a “loner.” I like solitude. Most of my preferred activities are actually the things I do by myself (ride a motorcycle, fly, target practice, read). But there are times when “another” is so important in my life that I almost cannot find words to express the angst felt when she is absent.

I have been married to Sue since 1974. We have been through a lot together. Great times, good times, mediocre times, sad times, grieving times, terrible times—and back to jubilant times. I was there with her, coaching her during the birth of each of our three beautiful little girls. And I was there by her side at the death of her father, and 30 years later, at the death of her mother. And she stood with me at the funeral and burial of my dad in November, 2010.

She is the most important person in my life. And by “person” I mean flesh-and-blood. So don’t think I put her before God.

It is when we are apart for longer periods that I seem to become most aware of just how much my life is intertwined with hers. Yes, I will confess it openly and boldly—I NEED her. And I really cannot imagine life without her. Last Wednesday Sue left with her youngest sister (and her husband) for a five day trip out to New York State to visit her youngest brother and his wife in their new home. Sue and her sister were really looking forward to being the first siblings to visit Jim and MaryAnne since they had moved from the Midwest to Southern New York State.

She left early in the morning last Wednesday. On that very afternoon our oldest daughter, Rachel, called me with some heart breaking and tragic news about a grievous loss in our family. Coming home to an empty house that evening was hard. And a week spent without Sue provided ample evidence that no matter how solitary I may be in nature, companionship feeds my soul in ways that “alone-ness” cannot.

And it reminded me graphically of what French philosopher, Paul Monet, once wrote… “A man alone is in bad company.”

No, not “dryness” as opposed to “wetness.” But spiritual “dryness.” Becoming spiritually “dry” happens to all of us at one time or another. It is sort of the “dirty little secret” of the Christian life that most of us hesitate to share—and many of us will not even admit exists.

Seventy years ago, Hannah Whitall Smith, wrote this little devotional classic entitled, “The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life.” The title might make you think that she believes that living as a Christian is all sunshine, flowers, and rainbows, with happy-little-puffy- white- clouds. And, that there is some “secret” formula that will absolutely guarantee that you will never again be anything but happy all the time if you only become a Christian. But you would be wrong. In fact, her reason for writing the book in the first place was that the dichotomy between the life Christians “ought” and “want” to live stands in such contrast to the life that Christians “really” live.

So, “dryness” happens. It almost never happens suddenly—all at once. Like a literal drought which creates a physical desert out of a previously lush climate, spiritual drought (dryness) creeps up slowly. It may come from laziness—like failing to regularly feed your soul from God’s Word, or failing to deal with insidious temptations before they erupt forth in sin. Or, “dryness” may come from weariness—life can come at you with a vengeance. Illness, grief, broken relationships, stress—all of these life situations can bludgeon you until you are completely spiritually fatigued. “Dryness” comes from any of a multitude of sources and influences.

You have probably been there. I have been there. Actually, I AM there today as I sit and write this blog. The one thing I do know, is that the “dryness” will eventually come to an end. If I will begin to do my part to reclaim the freshness in my spiritual life, God certainly will do HIS part to refresh, renew and restore me.

Actually, having written this, I am beginning to feel a little better already. Strange. Strange indeed.

I am glad that EIU still offers an annual celebration of the family. And I think that it is great that the University provides plenty of activities to give your family a taste of EIU: a football game, open houses in the residence halls, campus walks, and the “Chicago” concert (Sue and I really wanted to go to the concert, but couldn’t work it out.) And the weather this weekend could not have been more beautiful.

But what I really like most about Family Weekend is Sunday. I think it is great that, for all of you who are involved with the Campus House—you get an opportunity for your parents, grandparents, and siblings to experience a worship service at CCH. Lots of parents verbalize to our staff members how much they appreciate our ministry and what we have to offer their student whom they have entrusted into our care.

I know that some of you come from families that are not Christian, and our worship service on Family Weekend provides an opportunity for you to open a dialogue with your family about what it means to have a personal relationship with Jesus. I hope and pray that you will embrace any open door God opens to talk with your family about Jesus.

For some of you, maybe the Sunday of Family Weekend is the only time you have been to the Campus House this year. That is O.K. No one will judge you for that. Maybe by being there this morning for the first time, God may begin to impress on you the importance of hammering out your spiritual life. If you have questions, or just want to talk to someone about “God- stuff” please give one of our staff a call at 345-6990 and set up an appointment to open up a “spiritual conversation.” After all, that is what we are here for.

I also know that there is one more category of EIU student who may need some encouragement. That would be those of you whose family never comes to Family Weekend. It may cause you some pain to be “alone” on Family Weekend. If you are feeling some pain over that, maybe it would be good for you to ask one of your friends at the Campus House to meet with you to talk about it… and pray about it.

This morning was pretty special. I was so glad that your family got to witness a “planned” baptism… and I am thrilled that they also got to witness a spontaneous decision for baptism as well.

In the end, maybe the reason why my favorite part of EIU’s Family Weekend is Sunday is that—by the time our worship service and family potluck are over—you and your family have a lot to talk about. It is my prayer for you that your follow-up conversations with your family will be a blessing to you and to them. In that vein, please remember our scripture text for the sermon this morning…

20 work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ  Jes us throughout all generations, for ever and ever!  Amen.  (Ephesians 3:20-21, NIV)

“Grace” is one of those “Christian-ese” words whose meaning often finds itself obscured in a swirling fog of overuse, misuse, and abuse. It has become a term so popularly verbalized in everyday Christian vernacular that the scandal of it has been lost. You see it in the names of local churches, of whole denominations, of missions agencies, and even in the trademarked names of many Christian- owned “secular” businesses. Oh, and young couples find it attractive to name their daughters, “Grace.”

I know that a lot of books have been written about this important subject… not the least of which was Brennan Manning’s excellent work, The Ragamuffin Gospel. But I want to focus in on one aspect of grace that is often lost in our daily pilgrimage.

Grace is not just some abstract theological principle. It defines the very basic nature of God’s choice of us… His act of choosing you and me. The ancient Jews had the law. God dealt with them on the basis of their obedience—or their disobedience. When Jesus came, grace came with him, through him, and in him. He was (and is) the vessel and vehicle for grace—the free gift of God’s open arms to anyone who would fling himself or herself into his warm embrace.

At the heart of Grace is God’s understanding of sin—our sin. Sin separates. Sin alienates. Sin deteriorates. Grace embraces, restores, renews. I have sinned, but through eyes of grace God overlooks my failure. Where grace gets really “gritty” is when it is bludgeoned by sin—our sin—your sin— my sin. You see, it is not at the Sunday School picnic that grace does it greatest work. Nor is it in the midst of your passionate prayer life or your selfless service or even in your unfettered, uninhibited worship. No, grace does its greatest work when I am at my worst—when you are at your worst. When you have fallen spiritually and feel you can’t get up—or even more profoundly— when I have fallen and I don’t even feel like I want to rise… that is when His grace gets gritty. Grace is gritty when we are at our absolute worst—struggling with immorality, lying, lust, unfaithfulness. It is at this juncture of human experience and divine intervention that we realize that grace is not really very “pretty.” Grace is an activity in which God willingly gets down in the mud and the muck and mire of human misery, and holds us with an embrace only a loving parent of a wayward child ever really fully understands.

When you walk along an ocean shore, you are pretty safe. You can venture out in knee-deep or perhaps even chest deep water with a sense of relative security. So, in these occasions you would not likely wear a life preserver. But if you find yourself cast overboard in the middle of the vast ocean you immediately develop a keen awareness that you are lost, alone, and in grave danger. You will almost certainly experience self-blame and self- loathing for having been so stupid or irresponsible as to put yourself in this predicament where you are so close to utter destruction. There in the midst of the deep, vast ocean, you need a life preserver—or better yet—a life raft complete with provisions and a flare gun to signal any watching eye that you are here… and that you desperately need help.

Grace finds its truest expression, and its most profound understanding—not by the waders, but by the castaways. That is grace at its “grittiest.”

So, we are down to the last full week of classes and then finals week. That knowledge can elicit many varied responses on your part. For example… panic, because you have so much left to do before the school year ends. Or, perhaps you will respond with a sigh of relief—just glad to have made it through the school year. Maybe you experience frenzied anticipation, because you have big plans for your summer and you can’t wait to get started. Whatever your response to the knowledge that school is out in two weeks, I still have some advice for you on “How to end your school year.”

First, keep your heart close to Jesus. The stresses of the end of the school year can cause lots of anxiety, and Jesus is the only person in your life who can actually help you deal with those anxious moments. He, and he alone, knows your heart. Spend some extra time in his word, this week. You may think you don’t have the time. But if you take the time to listen to his word you will not regret the investment. May I recommend Psalm 119?

Second, keep your heart close to your Christian friends, your roommate(s) and any other significant relationships you have built this school year. Guard your friendships. Don’t leave for summer break regretting that you didn’t spend time investing in your friends’ lives. Those people in your life may be under lots of pressure these last few days. Offer a listening ear to those who are hurting, or who are confused. Don’t leave for the summer until you have given every person you love a hug “goodbye.”

And finally, persevere. It is a good Biblical word. It basically means… “stick to the task until the task is done.” Avoid the temptation to take shortcuts in your final projects or in studying for finals. Don’t let weariness in the last two weeks cause you to quit before you reach the finish line. The Apostle Paul wrote about perseverance in his own spiritual life in his letter to his young protégé, Timothy (2 Timothy 4:7-8): 7 I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 8 Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.