Words By Rev. Kyle Witmer

Rev. Kyle Witmer, Area Director for Southeast Asia and Japan of the American Baptist Foreign Mission Society–International Ministries, delivered the Baccalaureate Message during the College Baccalaureate Service on May 31, 2026, at the University Gymnasium.

During the College Baccalaureate Service, Rev. Kyle Witmer delivered a message of celebration, reminding graduates that their journey is rooted in the faithfulness of God and the support of parents, families, teachers, friends, and communities.

Today is a day of celebration.

But it is not a simple celebration.
Because what we mark today did not begin with you—and it will not end with you.

This moment carries within it the faithfulness of many others:

• Parents and families
• Those who labored on your behalf
• The encouragement of friends
• The guidance of teachers
• The prayers of communities

So even as your name is called, and as you walk forward to receive what has been earned, you do not walk alone.

And that matters.

Because if today becomes only about your achievement, then you will be handed a very small story to live in.

There are many such stories available to you now.

Stories that tell you that this moment is the beginning of your real life—that now is the time to build something for yourself, to establish your place, to secure your future, to make your name known.

In other words, to build your own empire.
And at first, that can sound compelling.
It can even sound wise.
But it is also a demanding story.
Because empires always require more.

More success.
More recognition.
More control.

And beneath it all is a question that is never fully settled:
Have I done enough? Am I enough?

Into that kind of world, Jesus speaks a very different word.

In Matthew chapter 5, He looks at those gathered around Him—ordinary people, not powerful people, not accomplished people—and He says:

“You are the salt of the earth.
You are the light of the world.”

Not you will be, someday, after you have proven yourselves.
Not you should try to become.
But you are.
Before the career begins.
Before success is measured.
Before recognition is given.
You already are.

This is the language of the kindom (Lester Edwin Ruiz) of God.
Not a kingdom built on power, achievement, and control, but a kindom—a life shaped by relationship, humility, and self-giving love.

And here we begin to see something central to the life of faith:
The kindom of God is already present, and yet it is not yet complete.
Already, Jesus declares, you are salt and light.
Already, your life carries meaning that you did not create and cannot lose.
Already, you are drawn into God’s work in the world.

And yet—
The world is not yet as it should be.
Your life is not yet fully formed.
The work of God in you is not yet complete.
And this tension—the already, but not yet—is not something to resolve.
It is something to inhabit.
Because if you forget the already, you will spend your life striving to prove yourself.
And if you forget the not yet, you may settle too quickly, assuming there is no more growth, no deeper transformation still to come.

So Jesus names the first truth:
You already are.
You are salt.

Which means that your life, often in ways that are quiet and unseen, is meant to bring preservation, healing, and depth to the world around you. Salt does not draw attention to itself, and yet without it, something essential is missing.

And you are light.
Not light that exists for its own display, but light that reveals. Light that makes it possible for others to see clearly. Light that points beyond itself.

Which means your life is not meant to gather attention inward, but to direct it outward—toward what is good, what is true, what is right and pure; ultimately, toward God.

So the question before you is not: Will you become someone significant?
The question is: Will you live as who you already are?
And if that calling feels weighty, it is because it is.
And that is why we must hear the second word.
The word given to us in Philippians chapter 1.

Where the Apostle Paul writes with confidence:
“He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion…”

Notice where the emphasis falls.
It does not rest finally on your effort, your discipline, or your ability to sustain what you have started.
It rests on God.

God began this work.
God sustains this work.
God will bring this work to completion.

Which means that even as you step forward into what comes next, you do not carry the full weight of your future on your own shoulders.
Graduation may feel like a conclusion.
But in the life of faith, it is much closer to a beginning.
Or perhaps better—a continuation.

For many of you, these next words have been spoken over you, prayed over you, perhaps more times than you realize:

“That your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight…”

This is not a prayer for success as the world defines it.
It is a prayer for transformation.
That your love would grow—not remain where it is, but deepen, widen, and mature.

That you would develop discernment—not simply knowing what is right in theory, but learning to recognize what is good and true within the complexity of real life.
That you would be able to test and approve what is excellent.
That your lives would be filled with the fruit of righteousness—not merely accomplishment, but integrity, wholeness, and lives that bring life to others.
This is how the kindom of God takes root and grows in the world.

Not through force.
Not through self-promotion.
Not through the accumulation of power.
But through lives that are being shaped—patiently, steadily—by the work of God.
And this reveals a different way of measuring a life.

Empires measure success by what you can build and keep.
By what you can accumulate.
By how secure and visible your achievements become.

But the kingdom of God asks different questions:
Is your love growing?
Are you becoming more attentive, more discerning?
Is your life bearing fruit that brings life to others?

And here is where the good news of the already, but not yet becomes deeply personal.
Because you do not step into the future to prove your worth.
And you do not step into it alone.
Already—you are salt and light.
Already—you have been given a place within God’s work in the world.
And not yet—God is still forming you.

Still shaping your character.
Still refining your understanding.
Still drawing you deeper into a life that reflects His own.

Some of you will remain here.
Some of you will go to other places—perhaps far from home.
Some of you will step into opportunities that are clear and well-defined.
Others will step into uncertainty.

And for many, your path will be shaped by responsibilities that are deeply meaningful in this context—caring for family, supporting others, perhaps working in another country so that those at home may flourish.

In all of this, the invitation remains:
Do not give your life to building a small empire—even if it appears successful.
Because it will never be large enough to hold the weight of your life or the depth of your calling.
Instead, live as people of the kindom.

Live within the reality that is already breaking into the world, even as it is not yet complete.
Be salt—faithful in what is small and unseen.
Be light—clear in what you reveal, pointing beyond yourselves.
And trust—deeply trust—that the God who began this good work in you is faithful.

Faithful to sustain you.
Faithful to guide you.
Faithful to complete what has been started.

So as you go, do not spend your life building a small empire.

Live as people of the kindom.