Jonathan Hayden spoke to fellow graduates on Saturday, May 10, 2025, as the campus student speaker.
“Before we begin, take a moment to remember who you are – most deeply.
Cut through the noise.
Lay down the praise.
And ask the silence:
Who am I?”
Now, if you would, walk with me through this – not as spectators, but as fellow travelers.
Here we are… standing on the edge of something sacred. Something not meant to be explained… but felt.
So, let me be clear, this is not a performance. It’s not a polished speech. I don’t believe in those. I come to speak to your heart – with something vulnerable and alive. That’s what the heart understands. And what good would it do if I stood here, spilling some polished nonsense that skips over the heart? Perhaps that shows that the heart longs for more than simply praise.
The heart is personal.
So, allow me – if only for a moment – to meet you personally.
What do I mean by personally? I mean – as a human being. Because that is what we are. But we seem to have lost sight of ourselves as human beings. We’ve come to believe we’re nothing more than clumps of neurons… or primal animals locked in a fight for survival. That is simply fiction as far as I am concerned. You are a spiritual being. You carry something far deeper than comfort, pleasure and survival. And you know this too – you feel it. Even when you are in the comfort of your own room, scrolling endlessly on your phone, wasting away in your bed.
But why? Why do you feel like you are wasting away? You have comfort. You have pleasure. But why do you feel so empty?
Because something deeper leaps at the core of your existence – something more fundamental than pleasure or survival. It’s in the depths of your soul, you could say, hinting at you.
You know that small voice in the back of your mind? The still, small voice? The one that pangs you when you go in the wrong direction – trying to tell you something you need to know?
Tell me – have you ever truly silenced yourself enough to listen… I mean, really listen?
Has it called you forth? – beckoned you toward something unknown, yet undeniably real…perhaps a place you fear to go?
Why do you silence it? Because it’s too difficult, because it demands all your suffering and confusion? Because it’s telling you something you’re afraid to hear?
And you chose the easier path, didn’t you? The comfortable path? I understand. And maybe you felt the quiet ache of being called for something more. I have been there too. But is this comfortable path really the end? Is that what the small voice called you toward? Are you here because it’s what you’re ‘supposed’ to do? Because it’s what everybody else does? Is this really where you find your life’s adventure?
In the noise of the crowd?
In the safety of the herd?
Is that all you are?
All you’ll ever be?
What is it about that small voice that beckons you forth? Why does it urge you away from the known path? Why does it gesture to you, “This way, this is where you must look.”
We are called – not by chance, not by passion, but something infinitely deeper… by divine Providence.
Do you understand the weight of that?
Providence isn’t something that you use to your own advantage. It’s not a convenience; it’s a summons. Providence is a way of being. It is here – a lived reality. It is the hand outstretched that you refuse to take; the path you hesitate to walk down; the road less traveled by. But how can you expect to find Providence if you don’t answer its call? But take heart. It does not abandon you. It waits. Patiently. Silently. In a still, small voice.
Don’t you see? You’re made to embrace with courage the terrible crucibles of life, to hear the earth’s bellows, to feel the weight of existence for the greatest love of one another, your dearest friends and family, your neighbors and even your enemies.
Why do you think God never explained Job’s suffering?
Instead, He answers with a storm: “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?” That was the answer… It’s because suffering is transformative; it’s the fire that purifies you, but you don’t understand – cannot understand it – until you have walked through it. That’s why the small voice is terrifying; it holds the weight of the unknown, the call to a life beyond comfort, beyond pleasure.
Do you see? Through suffering, we are called beyond ourselves. But we are not alone. Others have walked the path before us; they heard the knock of Providence on their door, and they opened it.
Now it is time for our journey.
But after all that, after the call – after the storm, where do you start? Well, you start with your own heart. Tell me, how often have you lied to yourself? When you avoided that uncomfortable conversation. When was the last time you removed the mask? And you stood in the mirror, face to face with the real you?
And what about someone you love? When was the last time you told them? When was the last time you held them and said: “It’s okay; I understand you as you are, I am here with you.” Have you truly listened to them? I know I have failed before to truly listen – taken the love given to me for granted. And we don’t understand love – until it’s gone.
This is your life – your existence. You have dreams, do you not? You feel that pain in love, anger, defeat, and grief, spilling out through sopping tears in those dark and dreadful nights. You feel the ecstasy of embracing your loved ones after the school year. How about when you interlock hands with your lover, your heartbeats matching rhythm. And how about your family, when you watch the wonder dance in your little brother or sister’s eyes, their innocent curiosity about the world stirring that sense of nostalgia within you, some longing for what it once was.
Remember those warm summer nights? The pink clouds painting the sky? The hum of crickets at dusk? When we were barefoot in the driveway, watching fireflies flicker like forgotten prayers? Where did it all go?
Things were so simple then, weren’t they? For a moment, we were children again, but the world turns, and we grow, and those moments slowly become sand, falling through our fingers. We cannot stay, no matter how much we wish to. And we are left with the painful reminder that nothing here lasts forever.
Yes, even the greatest journeys end. The final word of the book is read, and there are no more pages left to turn. And you close the book, moved by the great adventure you’ve lived through. But the greatest stories – are not nostalgic – they’re transformative.
And every truly great story must first –
be marked –
by fire.
Great stories are forged in fire. Their price – always sacrifice. All heroes must die before they rise. And you’re no exception. You, too, must pass through fire.
And perhaps you know of a great story like this. The greatest story ever told – the greatest story ever lived. A carpenter. A teacher. He stepped into the terrible unknown. Into the barren desert. Into death. He bore the weight of love, and He gave everything. And then – he rose.
But He did not rise to stand alone. He rose to hand that fire to you. He rose to send you forth. Not to play it safe. Not to blend in with the crowd, but to burn brightly. To walk into every dark and desolate place and carry the flame that was lost.
And now – it’s your turn.
Yes, you will fall, we all do, but we must remember to rise again.
No – you must rise again, or there is no journey. That is faith. You must have faith in the journey forward, even when you question everything. But there is hope. You wouldn’t be called forth if you didn’t have the gifts you were given. I mean, there is only one you. One story that only you can tell. It’s yours.
And in the grandness of this world, this infinite universe, your story matters. And you may look back at yourself, years from now and think “Wow, look how much I’ve been changed into someone completely new!” And that’s when you know – it was worth it.
But do you see? Your story must first begin. That’s why you are here today, Class of 2025. The word Commencement does not mark the end – it means to begin! And oh, we have only just begun!
And this is our beginning.
Now. Go.
Set the world ablaze with your dancing flame, in an age starving for its light.
Embrace the adventure that awaits you.
Now Listen.
Listen.
Do you understand?
They say God reveals Himself in the silence.
Do you hear it?
Jonathan M. Hayden ’25 was the final campus Theology major from SMWC. He is originally from Linton, Indiana, and he was drawn to The Woods as a student-athlete seeking to deepen his spiritual life. On campus, he was a devoted advocate for his peers as an academic mentor, student-athlete and campus leader, offering academic support to fellow students both in and beyond the classroom. His commencement address, “To Dance with Fire: A Soul’s Confession of Transformation,” was not just a farewell — it was a confession, a call and a flame: to act courageously in difficulty, to listen when silence speaks and to find meaning in life’s mystery. He will continue his academic journey this fall at Western Michigan University, pursuing a graduate degree in Philosophy.
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