For the class of 2025: Finding your way after the applause fades …

There’s a moment after the applause fades when things go quiet, and that silence can be louder than expected. Whether you’re graduating from high school or college, it doesn’t take long for the question to come: What now? The answer isn’t always obvious, but here’s what matters — you’re no longer moving just because someone else told you to. This isn’t about proving anything. It’s about whether you can think clearly when the path ahead is no longer assigned to you.

Until now, your life has followed a recognizable structure — school years, seasons, grades, and calendars. You were told when to show up, where to go, what came next. Even in college, where freedom expands, there were still deadlines, expectations, and outlines. Graduation ends that cycle. It’s not that all structure disappears, but the responsibility for choosing it shifts to you.

That’s not pressure — it’s opportunity. Not the kind that comes wrapped in motivational slogans, but the kind that quietly offers you a serious question: what are you going to do with the space in front of you? This is the first time many will face that space without someone else filling it in. That doesn’t mean you must have everything figured out. It does mean you’ll need to learn how to navigate without someone else drawing the map.

Some people will rush into that space with plans they’ve held for years. Others will hesitate, unsure of what to pursue or how to begin. Both are normal. And both groups, sooner or later, will come to terms with a simple fact: success after graduation depends less on talent or ambition than on the steady practice of wisdom. The people who move forward with direction are not the ones who know the most. They’re the ones who ask better questions, listen longer, and act with intention even when answers are unclear.

This next chapter will test your ability to make choices without applause, to work without a finish line in sight, to persist when no one else is watching. These aren’t the lessons you can learn in a classroom. They’re the kind you live your way into. And they’re what separate people who merely finish school from those who go on to build a meaningful life.

Graduation isn’t just a ceremonial milestone, it’s a test of clarity. When you take away the structure and the safety of an assigned next step, what remains? What do you value enough to pursue without being told to? What will you do when no one is grading you, and there’s no framework left to follow?

These are not questions to fear. They’re questions to welcome. Because what comes next is not primarily about how impressive your choices look. It’s about who you’re becoming through them. If you can stay grounded in truth, if you can keep your commitments without chasing constant approval, and if you can learn to move forward with both humility and resolve, then you will already be ahead of most.

Not everything you attempt will work. That’s reality, not failure. But even that is useful, because discovering what doesn’t matter is often how you find out what does. You’re not expected to master your future in your twenties. You’re expected to mature into it, decision by decision, year by year.

Graduation doesn’t make you ready for everything. But it is the first step where readiness becomes your own responsibility. Walk wisely. Think deeply. Pray without ceasing. Don’t waste time pretending you’re further along than you are. But don’t hold back from stepping forward just because the path isn’t lit all the way to the end. You don’t need to see the whole road, you only need to take the next step on it with purpose.

Scotty