The Kind of Person the World Needs
Commencement Address presented at Spring Arbor University 2026 A.D. by the Hon. William Wagner (Ret), WFFC Distinguished Chair for Faith & Freedom (SAU); Distinguished Professor Emeritus
President Ellis, members of the Board of Trustees, distinguished faculty and staff, families and friends—and most especially, graduates:
Congratulations.
You have earned this moment.
You survived examinations, clinics, research papers, presentations, deadlines, group projects—
And today you have reached the finish line.
Or at least one finish line.
Because very shortly, someone will hand you a diploma, you will take photographs, your family will tell you how proud they are of you, and then—perhaps sooner than you would prefer—someone will ask:
“So, what are you going to do now?”
I want to suggest this morning that there is an even more important question.
Not:
What are you going to do?
But:
Who are you going to become?
To be sure, the world you are entering desperately needs talented people.
It needs physicians and teachers. Business leaders and counselors. Scientists and pastors. Nurses and entrepreneurs. Public servants and artists.
But our country does not suffer from a shortage of talented people. We have extraordinarily talented people.
What we desperately need are good people.
People of character.
People who know how to disagree without hating.
People who can possess authority without becoming arrogant.
People who can succeed without believing that success makes them superior.
People who can fail without believing that failure makes them worthless.
People who tell the truth when lying would be easier.
People who forgive when resentment would feel better.
People who serve when no one is watching.
And people who love—even when the person standing across from them is very difficult to love.
I
n other words, the world needs something that Spring Arbor University has been quietly teaching you all along.
The world needs people who look more like Jesus.
The Spirit Within Us
Many years ago, one of America's great jurists, Judge Learned Hand, delivered a famous speech called The Spirit of Liberty, that I first read when I was about your age.
Hand understood something profound.
Institutions, statutes, courts, and constitutions are essential to preserving liberty. But they cannot sustain it on their own. Liberty must also live in the hearts and character of the people themselves.
He famously observed that liberty lives in the hearts of men and women—and that when it dies there, no constitution and no court can save it.
I have spent much of my professional life thinking about constitutions.
I believe deeply in the Rule of Law.
I believe in constitutional government, limited power, freedom of conscience, and the unalienable dignity of every human person.
But after all these years, I have become convinced of something else:
No constitutional structure can produce virtuous human character.
A constitution can restrain power.
· It cannot make the powerful humble.
Law can punish violence.
· It cannot make us love our neighbor.
Government can protect freedom of conscience.
· It cannot give us a conscience worth following.
Courts can sometimes administer justice.
· They cannot make us just.
Something deeper must happen within us. And Christians know where that transformation begins.
It begins not with power, but with surrender.
Not with self-importance, but humility.
Not with demanding that others serve us, but with the One who said that He came not to be served, - but to serve.
And not just with tolerance—which sometimes means little more than grudgingly putting up with one another—but with something infinitely more demanding:
agape love.
The love that seeks the good of another person even when that person can do absolutely nothing for us.
The love Christ showed us.
I Once Thought I Was Pretty Impressive
I learned something about humility rather dramatically early in my legal career.
I had worked hard.
I had earned my law degree. And eventually I had been awarded a doctorate in law.
Now, I wish I could tell you that receiving an advanced degree filled me with profound humility.
It did not.
I thought I was pretty hot stuff.
I had letters after my name.
I had credentials.
I had survived years of legal education.
I was headed into big law and government service with the United States Department of Justice.
I was ready.
At least, I thought I was.
Then I attended a Department of Justice litigation orientation program. As part of the training, we had to stand before our fellow attorneys and deliver a mock opening statement. This should not have been difficult.
I was educated.
I was prepared.
I knew the law.
And then I stood up.
And fell apart.
Completely.
I don't mean that I forgot a line.
I mean that I broke down.
In front of my peers.
I couldn't finish the opening statement.
Whatever confidence I had carried into that room disappeared rather quickly.
And then something happened that I have never forgotten. The Instructor, a wise senior attorney, would not let me stay down.
He made me get back up.
Not the next day.
Not after I had recovered my confidence.
He made me get back up and finish.
So, I stood there, choking through tears, and somehow finished that opening statement.
It was not Clarence Darrow.
It was not Daniel Webster.
But I finished.
And by the end of that training program, I received an award.
Most Improved Orator.
Now, graduates, I want you to understand something about a “Most Improved” award.
It does not necessarily mean you ended exceptionally well.
Sometimes it simply means you started exceptionally badly.
Apparently, I had left myself considerable room for improvement.
But I treasure that experience.
Indeed, I probably learned more from the humiliation of that first opening statement than I would have learned had I stood up and delivered a magnificent speech.
Because eventually I discovered something you will discover too:
Some of God's greatest gifts arrive disguised as experiences we would never have chosen.
· A closed door.
· A rejection.
· An embarrassing mistake.
· A job you don't get.
· A relationship that disappoints you.
· A dream that takes longer than expected.
· A moment when you discover that you are not quite as impressive as you had imagined.
Those moments can make us bitter.
Or they can make us better.
And sometimes God uses them to remove from us precisely the thing that would have prevented Him from using us later.
Get Back Up
There will come a day for every person sitting here when life does not go according to plan.
I don't know what it will be.
And neither do you.
But it will come.
When it does, remember that senior attorney who instructed me to
Get back up.
Maybe your voice shakes.
· Get back up.
Maybe you have tears in your eyes.
· Get back up.
Maybe everyone else in the room seems more confident than you.
· Get back up.
Maybe you discover that the person you thought you were supposed to become isn't the person God is calling you to become at all.
· Get back up.
Courage is not the absence of fear.
Sometimes courage is simply obedience while your knees are shaking.
The Apostle Paul learned something like this. He pleaded with God to remove the weakness that afflicted him. God's answer was not what Paul requested:
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
That turns the world's understanding of leadership upside down.
The world tells you: Show everyone how strong you are.
Christ says: Let Me show what I can do through your weakness.
The world says: Build your résumé.
Christ says: Build your character.
The world says: Make a name for yourself.
Christ says: Follow Me.
You Are Entering a Divided World
And graduates, you are entering a world that badly needs people who have learned that lesson.
Our country is deeply divided.
We disagree about politics.
We disagree about culture.
We disagree about morality, justice, education, economics, sexuality, religion, and even increasingly about what constitutes truth itself.
You will encounter people who see the world very differently from you.
Some will challenge what you believe.
Some may ridicule it.
And some of you sitting here today may not yet share the Christian faith that stands at the heart of this university.
If that describes you, I am especially glad you are here.
Because I hope that during your time at Spring Arbor you have encountered something more compelling than an argument.
I hope you have encountered the heart of Jesus.
Perhaps you saw it in a professor who stayed after class when there was nothing professionally to gain from doing so.
Perhaps in a coach who cared more about who you were becoming than whether you won.
Perhaps in a staff member who knew your name.
Perhaps in a friend who sat beside you during the worst week of your life.
Perhaps in someone who prayed for you.
Perhaps in someone who forgave you.
Perhaps in someone who loved you when you knew perfectly well that you had not earned it.
That is the extraordinary claim of Christianity.
We do not love because everyone deserves our love.
We love because God first loved us.
And that changes everything.
The Person Across From You
There is a temptation in a divided age to reduce people to categories.
Conservative.
Liberal.
Christian.
Non-Christian.
Educated.
Uneducated.
Successful.
Unsuccessful.
Friend.
Enemy.
But Jesus consistently refused to encounter people this way.
He saw persons.
The woman at the well.
The tax collector.
The leper.
The religious leader.
The Roman centurion.
The thief dying beside Him.
People whom respectable society would have ignored, feared, despised, or condemned—Jesus saw them.
Graduates, -- learn to see people.
When you enter a boardroom, see people.
When you enter a classroom, see people.
When you enter a hospital room, see people.
When you encounter someone whose worldview is completely different from your own, see a person.
When you engage someone with whom you profoundly disagree, remember that disagreement does not diminish human dignity.
You need not abandon truth to practice love.
Indeed, genuine love refuses to abandon truth.
But truth without love can become harsh and condemning.
And love without truth can become shallow and misguided.
Jesus showed us something better:
Grace and truth together.
Imagine what might happen if a generation of Spring Arbor graduates carried that combination into a divided nation.
Leadership Is Not About Being Important
Some of you will become leaders.
Actually, let me correct that. All of you will lead someone.
You may never have a corner office.
You may never hold public office.
You may never become president of anything.
You may never have thousands of followers online—which, incidentally, may turn out to be one of God's particular blessings upon your life.
But someone will watch you.
A colleague.
A student.
An employee.
A patient.
A client.
A child.
A grandchild.
Someone will learn what courage looks like by watching you.
Someone will learn what integrity looks like by watching you.
Someone will learn what Christianity looks like by watching you.
That is leadership.
Jesus demonstrated it with a towel and a basin.
Think about that.
The One Christians confess as Lord -- knelt before His disciples and washed their feet.
If you want a picture of Christian leadership, begin there.
L
eadership is not primarily about how many people are beneath you.
It is about whose feet you are willing to wash.
When Nobody Is Watching
There is another lesson I hope you carry from this place.
Character is formed mostly in moments for which nobody gives awards.
No one applauds you for telling the truth when a lie would have gone unnoticed.
There is no commencement ceremony for keeping a promise.
No diploma for forgiving someone.
No honorary degree for being faithful to your spouse.
No trophy for quietly caring for an aging parent.
No LinkedIn announcement when you choose integrity over advancement.
And usually no one sees the thousand small decisions through which a human soul is formed.
But God sees them.
And eventually those decisions become you.
We become what we repeatedly choose.
· So choose carefully.
A Different Measure of Success
In a few moments, you will leave here with impressive credentials.
And credentials matter.
Education matters.
Excellence matters.
Use every gift God has given you.
Work hard.
Build things.
Discover things.
Teach.
Heal.
Create.
Lead.
Serve.
Seek excellence.
But never confuse achievement with significance.
Years from now, very few people will care about your GPA.
They will not remember every professional title you held.
They probably won't know how many followers you had.
But someone may remember:
You believed in me when nobody else did.
You told me the truth when everyone else was afraid to.
You stayed when everyone else left.
You forgave me.
You helped me get back up.
You showed me Jesus.
That is a life of significance.
The Spirit of Liberty—and Something Greater
Learned Hand was right that liberty must live in the human heart.
But I would take his insight one step further today.
A free society ultimately depends upon people capable of using freedom for something greater than themselves.
Freedom is not just the absence of restraint.
It is the opportunity to choose what is good.
To speak truth.
To pursue justice.
To defend the weak.
To create beauty.
To worship God.
To serve our neighbor.
To love.
And there is the great paradox of the Christian life:
We become most free when we stop living entirely for ourselves.
Jesus said that whoever seeks to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for His sake will find it.
That is not the message our culture usually gives graduates.
The conventional commencement message says:
Follow your dreams.
Jesus says something far more interesting:
Follow Me. Your dreams just may be too small.
One Final Assignment
So graduates, after all the assignments Spring Arbor University has given you, permit an old professor to give you one more.
When you leave this place:
· Be the person who gets back up.
And when someone beside you falls:
· Help them get back up too.
Be courageous enough to stand for truth.
Be humble enough to admit when you are wrong.
Be strong enough to forgive.
Be secure enough to serve.
Be curious enough to listen.
Be faithful when nobody is watching.
And love people who cannot repay you.
Especially those who disagree with you.
Especially those whom everyone else has decided are unworthy of love.
Perhaps especially them.
Because our divided country does not need another generation of successful professionals.
It needs men and women whose lives demonstrate that conviction and compassion can inhabit the same heart.
That truth and grace can walk together.
That courage need not be accompanied by contempt.
That humility need not become weakness.
That we can disagree profoundly and still recognize the God-given dignity of the person standing before us.
And that the greatest among us really can become the servant of all.
Some of you leave Spring Arbor knowing exactly where you are going.
Some of you haven't the slightest idea.
Don't worry.
Wherever God places you, remember this:
Your greatest contribution to this world may not ultimately be something you accomplish.
It may be the person you become.
And perhaps someday someone will encounter you—in a courtroom, classroom, hospital, church, business, laboratory, home, or simply across a kitchen table — and because of the way you listened, served, forgave, spoke truth, and loved,
· that person will catch a glimpse of the heart of Jesus.
If that happens, your education at Spring Arbor University will have accomplished something no diploma can adequately describe.
Graduates, congratulations.
Go into this world with courage.
Go with humility.
Go with truth.
Go with grace.
And above all—
Go with love.
