A Commencement Speech
Graduates, faculty, parents, relatives, and guests, good afternoon, and congratulations to the Mars Hill Academy graduating class of 2025.
It’s a real pleasure to be with you today.
Now, I’m going to talk to you about something that, if we’re honest, you probably don’t care that much about—at least not yet. Maybe in theory you do. But not in the way you will when you reach my age.
I want to talk to you about your legacy.
But before we get there, I need to lower your expectations by letting you in on a little secret: I was not the faculty’s first choice to speak to you today.
In fact, I might not have been the second. Or third. I may very well be the fifth or sixth. I don’t know how many phone calls they made or how many emails they sent before they finally landed on me—but here I am. And honestly? I take no offense.
It’s hilarious that I even made the list.
I barely graduated high school. And I didn’t come from some prestigious classical Christian academy known for academic rigor. I went to Lawrenceburg High School. I graduated near the bottom of my class with a 1.8 GPA—that’s about a C-minus average.
To top it off, I got held back my freshman year… because I was functionally expelled for mooning the baseball team—and everyone watching the game. I don’t even know if people still say mooning, so let me clarify: I pulled my pants down and pointed my bare bottom at several hundred people because I thought it was funny. A bunch of people agreed.
My principal was not one of them.
The closest I came to studying Latin was learning Pig Latin. And the closest I got to the classics was listening to classic rock on WEBN.
And as for college? I went to the Harvard of Northern Kentucky—NKU or, as we referred to it, the No Knowledge College.
And this—this is the quality of speaker that stands before you today.
This is who your teachers and headmaster ultimately had to settle on.
I’m what you get when the top choices say no or have something come up. Alright, I’m exaggerating a little… to be funny.
On Legacy
You’re going to deeply care about legacy. Maybe not today. Maybe not next year. But eventually, you will. One day you’ll realize that life isn’t just something you live—it’s something you leave behind. And what you leave behind will either bless the next generation or burden it.
Here’s what I want you to hear: legacy isn’t just about what you accomplish—it’s about who you become and who you serve.
“A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches.” —Proverbs 22:1
That’s not sentimental fluff. In the Reformed understanding, a good name isn’t about popularity—it’s about covenant faithfulness, integrity, and a life aligned with God’s law. It’s a legacy of character.
A good name becomes an inheritance—not just for your children, but for your community, your church, and everyone who follows behind you.
You build that kind of name one decision at a time. One hard choice. One kept promise. One faithful stand. And today marks a massive step forward for you.
You’re just beginning this work.
I, on the other hand, am at least halfway through mine.
And while I may not be the oldest or wisest person in the room, time and experience have offered me a few lessons worth sharing.
I have two to offer today.
1. You’ll Probably Always Feel Like an Imposter
You may think there’s a day coming when you’ll finally stop feeling like an imposter—when you’ll wake up and feel like a real adult: fully confident, fully qualified.
I doubt it.
I’ve planted multiple churches.
Written a best-selling book.
Married the love of my life.
Fathered nine children.
Buried one of them.
I’ve played a key role in founding a near billion-dollar business.
Been featured in three documentaries.
Hung out with movie stars, millionaires, and powerful politicians.
I was even invited to Elon Musk’s Starbase in Boca Chica, Texas—
and walked right up to one of his rockets.
To some people, I’m a big deal. That still amazes me—because most days, it’s not how I feel.
I’m 45 years old. That’s 15 years from 30… and 15 years from 60.
And yet, most days, I still feel like I’m 15.
If I let those feelings define reality—if I let them set the limits—
I wouldn’t be standing in front of you today.
I’d be crushed by my own prideful insecurity.
Listen:
Most of the Christians you admire—the ones you want to emulate—
the ones building businesses, proclaiming truth, raising children, creating things that last—
those people often feel like imposters. Like frauds.
So how do they do it? How do they overcome the doubt?
There are two possible ways.
The first is the worldly path: believe in yourself.
Pump up your self-esteem. Tell yourself you’re amazing, capable, unstoppable.
You know, it’s the plot of all Disney movies these days.
It’s all about manufacturing confidence by looking inward.
Then there’s the biblical path.
“The wicked flee when no one pursues, but the righteous are bold as a lion.” —Proverbs 28:1
The wicked may appear bold, but it’s a bluff.
Their confidence depends on drowning out their bad conscience.
But guilt always catches up. And when it does, they fold. They flee.
Fear is the fruit of a guilty soul.
But when guilt is removed—boldness rises.
The righteous are bold as a lion, not because they believe in themselves,
but because they fear God who forgave them.
And that fear drives out every other fear.
Look through history—Moses. Elijah. Esther. Paul. Luther.
These people weren’t bold because they were impressive.
They were bold because they were clean before God.
A clear conscience gives a person a spine.
That kind of confidence isn’t rooted in self.
It’s rooted in weakness confessed, sin forgiven, and strength supplied by God alone.
Because God rarely uses the noble, the impressive, or the powerful.
He uses the weak. The foolish. The overlooked.
That’s who He delights to use.
So if you walk humbly—
if you trust His Word more than your own feelings—
if you keep a clean conscience before God—
then the same God who used a few rough, near-illiterate fishermen to turn the world upside down…
will use you too.
You’ll be handed incredible opportunities.
And instead of folding, you’ll step forward and say,
“Perhaps the Lord will use me for His glory—not because I’m great, but because He is.”
Just don’t expect it to look how you imagined.
You’ll go places you never dreamed of.
God has a way of surprising those who fear Him.
And your legacy?
It may not look anything like you planned.
But that’s not a bad thing. A lot of our plans are stupid.
And some of the best legacies are the ones we never saw coming.
Stick close to the Lord.
Keep a good conscience.
Be as bold as a lion.
2. The Most Important Things Are Often Unexpected
The things that end up mattering most in life, the things that shape and define your legacy—are often strange and surprising.
Now, not everything conventional is wrong. Rejecting wisdom just to be rebellious is foolish.
Conventional wisdom is right… probably 80% of the time.
The family you come from matters.
The school you attend matters.
Your GPA and class rank matter—not because you’re in competition with your classmates, but because choosing to push yourself matters.
You guys have quite the foundation to build on. Praise God for it.
But hear me:
You are not defined by your family, your school, your GPA, or anything you’ve achieved so far.
They’re part of your story.
They’re part of God’s work in your life.
But they’re just the prologue to your legacy.
Your parents, teachers, and pastors have been edging you toward more and more personal responsibility—like walking a little kid down the steps into the shallow end of the pool.
But today, you’re not wading in.
Today, you’re jumping off the diving board into the deep end—doing a cannonball, making the biggest splash of your life so far.
The future is now your responsibility.
So what will you do with what you’ve been handed?
On Regret and Providence
A few years back, I had a recurring dream that reshaped how I think about regret.
I was 37 at the time, and the dream came to me four times in about six weeks.
In the dream, I woke up as my 19-year-old self.
It was a good season—no debt, in great shape, leading Bible studies, and dating Emily, who would later become my wife.
But in the dream, I still had all the knowledge and hindsight of my 37-year-old self.
And I knew where I’d blown it.
Racking up student loans.
Delaying children.
Putting off seminary.
Getting tied up with the wrong churches.
Missing key investments.
Wasting money.
Letting my health decline.
And I thought: This is it. This is my shot. I can fix it all. I can set things right and give my future family an even better life.
But then it hit me—if I changed any of those things…
it wouldn’t be the same family.
Different choices would lead to different children.
And while I know I’d love those kids—
they wouldn’t be Hudson.
Or Athanasius.
Or Caedmon.
And so on.
To have them, I’d have to exactly retrace every step—every conversation, every decision, every failure and success.
And that’s when the dream always turned on me.
The pressure to perfectly recreate my life would mount—
and I’d wake up overwhelmed.
That dream broke the power regret held over me.
Yes, I’ve made plenty of mistakes.
Yes, I’ve sinned.
But I’ve repented. Christ has forgiven me.
And somehow, in His providence, He’s worked through every bit of it—
the wise decisions and the dumb ones—
to give me the life I now have.
I couldn’t recreate it if I tried.
And honestly, if I could… I’d mess it up again.
“And we know that for those who love God, all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose.” —Romans 8:28
God works through all things for your good.
That doesn’t give you permission to sin. It’s not an excuse to be careless or reckless.
But it is the cure for paralysis.
It fills you with gratitude and pushes you out the door—
because you know your sovereign King and Savior will finish the good work He started in you.
Final Charge
So if nothing else sticks today, let it be this:
You don’t need to feel qualified to begin. Just be faithful.
You don’t need to have it all mapped out. Fear God. Keep a clean conscience. Take the next right step.
You’re not going to build your legacy in a day.
But you can build it one decision at a time.
One act of repentance.
One moment of trust.
“The heart of man plans his way, but the LORD establishes his steps.” —Proverbs 16:9
You can make your plans—but God is the one steering.
And look—if God can take a C-minus kid from Lawrenceburg who made some questionable decisions in his youth, and turn him into a husband, a father of nine, a pastor, and the guy giving your commencement speech…
He can do something with you, too.
The future is bright.
Be faithful. Build a name worth remembering.
And if you’re in Christ, your name’s already written in the only book that ultimately matters.
So go out in the joy of the Lord and be bold.
Thank you.
One of your best, Michael.