Dad?

Before becoming a campus minister in 2003, I had spent the previous four years planting a new church in South Florida.  Prior to that, I had spent a year at Asbury Theological Seminary as a Beeson Scholar, visiting and studying some the biggest, fastest – growing churches in the world.  We read the cutting edge books on successful ministry, and personally met many of the “big name” pastors.

When I arrived in South Florida, I had a clearly articulated vision, core values, a sharp logo, and a strategy to grow the next great mega-church.

The problem was, the community I went to didn’t need a mega-church – they needed a pastor and a community where they could be loved.  I was too enamored with the trappings of success, the signs of “church-health,” and the need to succeed to effectively love the very people I was sent to serve.  Sadly, I often resented them when they took too much of my time or didn’t “buy in” to my vision.  I left church-planting burned out, broken, and disillusioned – a result of my own ill-fated motives.

Frankly, campus ministry was my last shot at ministry.  I was ready to throw in the towel.

I had no training as a campus minister.  I didn’t attend a campus ministry in college.  My only strategy was to build relationships with the students – a task I should have tried in my church-plant.  I was 36 years old, and I saw myself as a cool “uncle-figure” of sorts.  Then a terribly, wonderful thing happened – one of my new students called me her “dad” on campus!!!  Then I discovered that the mother of another of my students was actually younger than me (I was oddly relieved to hear that she had been a teenage mother).

Dad?  I came to be a campus minister.  Dad?  I was only 36 years old!  Dad?  I was taught in seminary to maintain appropriate emotional boundaries and a certain professional distance.  Dad?  I was/am a dad to my own two children – but, how was I to integrate my roles and identity as pastor and dad on campus?  Dad?

Though I resisted the “dad” label and role as long as I could, I finally caved to the pressure.  In spite of my resistance, or maybe because of it, I was increasingly referred to as dad, daddy-Vance, pops.

Though many may question whether or not being “dad’ is pastorally appropriate, I have never felt more effective as a pastor or more passionate about ministry.

I love my students – I LOVE THEM – and I frequently tell them so.  I am appropriately affectionate with them – both the guys and the girls – and I find that they are hungry for it.  I cry for them, with them, and frequently in public (which is so embarrassing!).  I tell them when they look especially beautiful or handsome – as any father would.  Sometimes – and I hate when I have to do it – I call them out and correct them.

I’m not Reverend Dr. Rains.  I’m not Pastor Vance.  For many, I’m just dad.

Most of the students have dads, and I certainly have no intention of replacing them.  I have utmost respect for those who actually are my student’s dads.  I didn’t change their diapers. I didn’t pay for their soccer cleats or ballet lessons.  I didn’t help them learn algebra.  I wasn’t there on the sick nights.  I never had to enforce their curfews.  I’m clear about my place in their lives.

But, more than a few them needed more than their dad’s provided – love, guidance, wisdom, acceptance.  Though I give all the honor that is due to single moms, kids need dads.  And, they don’t stop needing dads when they go off to college.

I think it would be easy to fall in love with campus ministry as a job.  This is a pretty cool gig – lots of freedom, fun activities, stimulating worship, mission trips around the world, and I wear shorts and t-shirts to work almost every day.  I rarely shave.  I come to work late.  The students are fun.  I can be outrageous, and radical, and completely out-of-the-box.

But, I didn’t come here to love the job, or the programs, or the perks, or my vision, or my strategy, etc., etc.

I came here to love students.  I came here to be their dad.