Stand firm in your faith even when it's difficult
On a May evening in Virginia Beach, Regent University marked its 46th Commencement by conferring degrees upon 2,316 graduates drawn from every American state and twenty nations — a record class that spanned a nineteen-year-old computer scientist and an eighty-six-year-old doctoral candidate, quietly affirming that the pursuit of knowledge belongs to no single season of life. Three empty chairs draped in academic regalia reminded the gathered crowd that not every journey reaches its finish line in the flesh, while a keynote address from a Regent alumnus now shaping Florida's educational policy pressed the graduates toward a vision of leadership rooted in conviction rather than credential. Chancellor Gordon Robertson sent them into a fractured world with an ancient charge: that love of God and neighbor, carried faithfully outward, remains the most durable instrument of change.
- A record 2,316 graduates — including 357 with perfect 4.0 GPAs — crossed the stage, representing the largest and most geographically diverse class in the university's history.
- Three empty chairs on the front row stopped the celebration short, as posthumous degrees were conferred for Amanda Reidling, Thomas Richard Barnes, and Mark Nathaniel Martin, whose families rose in quiet recognition.
- Keynote speaker Anastasios Kamoutsas, now Florida's Commissioner of Education, warned graduates that faith and integrity will be tested in public life, urging them to measure success by impact and service rather than title or salary.
- Graduates like Adriana Alistair and Jesse Winston Jr. voiced a shared transformation — not just academic achievement, but a harder-won endurance and a commitment to lead communities with purpose.
- Chancellor Robertson framed the graduates' departure as a mission into a wilderness of division and digital conflict, calling love of God and neighbor the only reliable compass for the world they are entering.
On a May evening in Virginia Beach, Regent University's 46th Commencement brought 2,316 graduates across a stage — doctoral, master's, bachelor's, and associate degree recipients drawn from all fifty states and twenty countries. The class ranged from a nineteen-year-old finishing a computer science degree to an eighty-six-year-old completing a doctorate in counseling, a span that quietly declared education an open door at any stage of life. Among them, 357 had earned perfect 4.0 GPAs.
Before the celebration fully took hold, the ceremony paused. Three chairs draped in academic regalia sat empty on the front row. Amanda Reidling, Thomas Richard Barnes, and Mark Nathaniel Martin had not lived to see their degrees conferred. Their families stood to be recognized in a moment of still reverence — a reminder that the road to graduation is not always a straightforward one.
Keynote speaker Anastasios Kamoutsas, a Regent Law alumnus who had risen to become Florida's Commissioner of Education, spoke from lived experience. He credited his Regent professors not with filling him with facts, but with demanding conviction, integrity, and a sense of purpose larger than career advancement. His charge was plain: stand firm in faith when it costs something, stay hopeful, stay prayerful, stay useful.
Graduates echoed that formation in their own words. Adriana Alistair, who earned her English degree, described learning to stop quitting when things went wrong. Jesse Winston Jr., a doctoral graduate who serves as both a school superintendent and a pastor, urged his classmates to lead with passion and take concrete steps toward lasting community impact.
Chancellor Gordon Robertson closed by reaching back to Virginia Beach's own history — the 1607 Cape Henry cross, the Continental Congress's calls for prayer — before turning to the present. He named the real wilderness facing graduates not as physical hardship but as division, strife, and the daily provocations of a fractured digital world. His answer was simple and old: love God fully, love your neighbor as yourself, and carry that outward — not just across America, but across the world. Then the tassels turned, confetti burst into the air, and 2,316 new alumni walked into whatever comes next.
On a May evening in Virginia Beach, more than 2,300 people walked across a stage to receive degrees they had earned through years of work that demanded everything—late nights, competing obligations, the kind of persistence that doesn't announce itself until the moment it's done. Regent University's 46th Commencement brought together 2,316 graduates from all fifty states and twenty countries, a class that included some of the oldest and youngest alumni the institution has ever sent into the world.
The ceremony opened with Chancellor Gordon Robertson's prayer, a request that the graduates become leaders capable of changing the world, that they become overcomers. The numbers that followed told the story of what this class had accomplished: 529 doctoral degrees, 949 master's degrees, 824 bachelor's degrees, and 25 associate degrees. Among them were 357 graduates with perfect 4.0 grade point averages. One graduate, Preston Robert Nemeti, was nineteen years old and had just finished a degree in computer science. Another, Kwasi Hezekiah Scipio-Akpabla, was eighty-six and had completed a doctorate in counseling and psychological studies. The range itself was a kind of statement—that education, at Regent, belonged to anyone willing to pursue it.
Before the celebration could fully begin, the ceremony paused. Three empty chairs, draped in academic regalia, sat on the front row. Amanda Reidling, Thomas Richard Barnes, and Mark Nathaniel Martin had not lived to see their degrees conferred. The university honored them by awarding their degrees posthumously, and their families stood to be recognized in a moment of quiet reverence. It was a reminder that not every journey to graduation is a simple one.
The keynote speaker was Anastasios Kamoutsas, Florida's Commissioner of Education and himself a Regent alumnus from the class of 2026. Kamoutsas had grown up in Miami and had chosen Regent for its School of Law, eventually becoming an Assistant State Attorney and later Deputy Chief of Staff to Governor Ron DeSantis. He spoke from the weight of that experience. "I once sat where you are right now, filled with anticipation, a little uncertainty, and a deep sense that this moment matters," he told the graduates. He credited his Regent professors for demanding more than memorization, for insisting on thoughtfulness and conviction, for teaching him that success meant impact and integrity and service, not just titles or paychecks. His charge was direct: stand firm in your faith even when it's difficult, stay hopeful, stay purpose-driven, stay prayerful.
Graduate Adriana Alistair, who earned her bachelor's degree in English, had absorbed that message. When she arrived at Regent, she said, she gave up easily when things went wrong. But finishing her degree had taught her endurance. "Even if things don't go as planned, I don't give up," she said. "I trust God's plan no matter what." Jesse Winston Jr., a doctoral graduate from the School of Education who works as a superintendent of schools and a pastor, offered his own reflection to his classmates: "Let's go forth, resolving to serve the Lord and others wherever we go. Lead with passion, actively work to strengthen your communities, and take concrete steps to create lasting impact."
Chancellor Robertson's final charge reached back into American history—to the 1607 Cape Henry cross planted in Virginia Beach, to the Continental Congress's call for fasting and prayer 250 years ago. He spoke of the nation's founding purpose as religious liberty and worship, then turned to the present moment. "Our wilderness today is not some howling wasteland," he said. "Our wilderness is division, strife, and everything social media throws at us to incite us—to bring us into wrath and conflict where we hate one another." He challenged the graduates to return to a basic principle: love God with all your heart and all your strength, and love your neighbor as yourself. Take that message, he said, not just to America but to the whole world.
When the moment came, each undergraduate's name was called as they crossed the stage. Faculty members offered them personal prayer and Bibles. The deans of each school—from Arts and Sciences to Law, from Divinity to Education—formally presented their graduates for the conferring of degrees. Then Robertson spoke the words they had worked toward: "Congratulations, graduates. You may now turn your tassels." Royal blue and green confetti exploded into the air above the plaza, falling on 2,316 new alumni stepping into whatever comes next.
Notable Quotes
Finishing my degree has taught me about endurance and staying the course, even when things look tough. I don't give up. I trust God's plan no matter what.— Adriana Alistair, Bachelor of Arts in English
Our wilderness today is not some howling wasteland. Our wilderness is division, strife, and everything social media throws at us to incite us. Love God with all your heart and all your strength, and love your neighbor as yourself.— Chancellor Gordon Robertson
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
What struck you most about watching this many people cross a stage at once?
The sheer range of them. Nineteen to eighty-six. From fifty states and twenty countries. Some had lost classmates along the way. It wasn't just a celebration—it was an acknowledgment that getting here had cost something different for each person.
The three empty chairs—that's a detail that stays with you. How does a university hold that space?
By not looking away from it. By naming the people by name, letting their families stand, making it clear that the degree is still theirs even though they won't walk across the stage. It's a way of saying: you belong to this class, and we remember you.
Kamoutsas went from law school to the governor's office to education commissioner. What was he really telling the graduates?
That the path isn't linear, and that the values matter more than the title. He kept coming back to this idea that Regent professors taught him to think beyond success as a paycheck. He was saying: you're equipped for more than a job. You're equipped to lead.
Robertson's speech about wilderness and division—that felt like he was naming something specific about the moment we're in.
He was. He said the wilderness isn't a physical place anymore, it's social media and conflict and people hating each other. And his answer was almost simple: love God, love your neighbor. He was sending them out to do that in a fractured world.
What does a 4.0 GPA mean when 357 people have one?
It means the bar is high and the work is real. But it also means you're not alone in it. You're part of a cohort that took this seriously. That matters.