Deans

Preface: I say these things not simply from a dean's perspective, but also from the perspective of a former student who didn't always understand the rules or the deans. 

The other day I was in a meeting with all the deans when someone shared a thought that I found very profound. This person said he was thinking about his own relationship with God and wondering if he sees God the way the students see deans. This got me to thinking about my own relationship with the Lord and I found the analogy very insightful. However, it isn't perfect because deans are very imperfect people. We make mistakes all the time, or at least I do. But for what it's worth, the illustration made an impression on me.

Sometimes it feel like the students must look up the word 'dean' in a random dictionary and find a description that goes something like this: An invasive alien species seeded on planet earth whose purpose is to make academy life equivalent to that of a concentration camp. Synonyms include: dictator (i.e. Hitler), disciplinarian, and judge. 

Students sometimes feel that the only things deans care about are the rules. We're here to slap down the rod of discipline whenever and wherever we feel like it. Sometimes, when I was a student, it felt like the rules were a straight jacket that was being laced (do straight jackets have laces? I don't think so, but oh well) tighter and tighter. There have been numerous times when I've sat down next to a group of conversing students and then one of them will spout off a comment like, "Oh, watch out. There's a dean here." Or, "Oh, no! I didn't realize a dean was listening!" You'd think I was Santa Claus making out the Naughty and Nice List. Though the comments are almost invariably made as jokes, there is some truth to them.

Now, of course, this isn't the case with all students. There are many that I couldn't place under this description. However, for the ones who can fit the shoe...it can certainly be a frustrating shoe. I want to be friends with them, but run smack into walls of distrust. I want them to understand that it's not all about the rules. I want to help them. I want to see them thrive and grow and be happy. I want to see them in love Jesus. All the same wants and desires my deans had for me when I complained.  

But here's where it becomes even more personal to me. If my frustration sometimes feels like a stopped up bottle of baking soda and vinegar, then God must be Mt. St. Hellen's, primed for eruption. He gave His life for me, grants to me eternity, and wants to be my best Friend and yet, after I've gone through what is too many times a ritualistic devotion, I hardly breathe a word His way. Unless, of course, I need something. Then I'm usually quick to say the sinner's prayer and beg for help, which has its parallels to being a dean as well. A child's imaginary friend would be treated better than how I often treat God. At least the child treats his friend as though he is real. 

I feel like I can relate to God more now. I'm seeing the tiniest flicker, the smallest glimmer of His longing and desire, His burning ache to befriend, know, and help me, but also the frustration of having to hold back because He understands the futility of force. 

Now, like I said, the illustration falls short because deans and staff are sinners, just like everyone else. I've made many mistakes as a dean, just like past deans, whereas God has made no mistakes and has never been selfish. He's always perfectly loving and good. And the point of this article is to simply share how God has shown His deep desire for me and to possibly help others understand His desire for them as well. So I pray two prayers: 1. That God would help me be a better dean, the kind of dean that can break down and dissolve walls of distrust with love, the kind of dean Jesus would be. 2. That I would let Him break down those same walls in my own heart so He can fulfill His desire to have a close friendship with me.