If you asked me whether Southwestern Seminary is a place where a Hispanic person could thrive, I would answer without hesitation, Yes! The reason, however, is not necessarily obvious. The Hispanic student population is small, and the number of Hispanic faculty and staff is smaller still. So why am I so confident?
Because the culture that ultimately governs this institution is not ethnic, regional, or some other cultural subset that is bland enough to fit perfectly across all backgrounds. At its best, it is the culture created by the gospel of Jesus Christ, a culture marked by humility, hospitality, and the kind of other-oriented love that makes it possible for people to flourish, even when they find themselves far from the cultural world they know.
But that answer may sound too abstract, so let me give you a few concrete examples.
My Name is Arrrrmando, Not Mando…
I was born and raised in a border town of South Texas. But in North Texas, every time I introduced myself, I performed a small, almost entirely subconscious assessment, to determine if this person would roll their “R”, or if I should translate my name into something their tongue could manage.
Now, I wish I weren’t the kind of guy that notices these things, but if you have lived in a predominantly Hispanic culture, you understand that pronouncing your own Hispanic name in its Anglicized form feels like a minor act of betrayal—perhaps not quite a cardinal sin, but close enough that you instinctively avoid committing it in public.
Every semester at Preview Day, I introduce myself to the hundreds of attendees by saying the same comical statement, “My name is Armando, but my friends around campus call me ‘Mando—like the Mandalorian.’”
What I never admit is that this is not a consequence of real organic friendships but the outcome of a self-branding campaign to allow my name to be more intelligible within this culture. Rita Hayworth, Ricky Martin, Charlie Sheen, Bruno Mars– all the great ones have done it. My Korean brothers and sisters adopt an “English (American) name,” to that same end.
So Mando (pronounced Mon-do) has become my go-to introductory moniker. I didn’t realize how much I missed the sound of my own name until I heard one of my professors, Dr. Jeffrey Bingham, pronounce it with the strong, deliberate roll of the R, as clearly and naturally as my father, whose name I bear, would have.
This is classic Dr. Bingham. He wants every one of his students to feel seen and known. If you have ever taken one of Dr. Bingham’s classes, you know several things about him. 1) The prayers with which he begins each class are nothing less than homilies through which the Spirit of God finds some neglected corner of your heart to convict or encourage. 2) He can lecture without notes on the great complexities of God and somehow make them intelligible without making them seem small. And, 3) he will know you by name, and he will make the effort to pronounce that name not merely as the letters suggest to him, but as it is meant to sound to your native tongue.
I saw it time and time again with brothers and sisters from all over the world. He took the time to learn the pronunciation of Korean names, Chinese names, Filipino names, and my own Mexican name. This gave me the courage to begin pronouncing my name as I would. And when asked, I was eager to correct that pronunciation with joy and enthusiasm.
Something similar happened at the Fall 2026 Convocation, where I was to be introduced both as the new Assistant Vice President for Enrollment and as a new member of the faculty. While reviewing my biography, our provost, Dr. Madison Grace, asked whether anything needed adjusting. “Well,” I said, “the H in my last name is silent.” He immediately, and with genuine delight, corrected his pronunciation of my entire name. To be fair, Dr. Grace had the advantage of studying several languages and growing up in a Florida city shaped by Hispanic culture. Still, when he stood before the seminary community and introduced me with my new titles, I discovered that I was scarcely thinking about the titles at all. I was listening to my name.
This may seem like a minute and insignificant thing, but names seldom are. My wife and I put much thought into naming our two sons. A name is not just a convenient arrangement of sounds by which one person attracts another’s attention. It becomes bound up with identity, family, history, and personhood. To hear one’s name spoken as it was meant to be spoken is, in some small but meaningful sense, to feel oneself recognized. And the people, and more precisely the leadership, at Southwestern care enough to make you feel seen and recognized.
Scripture itself perhaps gives this recognition theological weight. To Israel, God says, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine” (Isa. 43:1). And our Lord Jesus, the Good Shepherd, does not relate to His people as an anonymous mass, for “The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out” (John 10:3).
The God who knows every star by name does not merely know that we exist. He calls us personally. Perhaps this is why the careful pronunciation of a name carried such significance; it was, however imperfectly, a human echo of divine attention, a small foretaste of what it will be like to find myself “somewhere, listening for my name.”
A Place That Values All of Me
The second thing I would say is that Southwestern has given me the opportunity to participate in kingdom work directed toward the whole world.
I am not unaware that I represent what has become, in Texas, a highly coveted demographic. Research suggests that by 2050, the Hispanic population of Texas will rise from 6.6 million to 21.5 million.1 Businesses, universities, and even seminaries understand the strategic value of someone who is bilingual, bicultural, and biliterate, especially someone who has experienced a measure of success in Hispanic contexts, both in business and in ministry. Southwestern is not exempt from recognizing that value, nor should it be.
What has mattered to me, however, is how my leaders, like President David S. Dockery, have understood that value. Whenever Dr. Dockery has invited me into greater responsibility, he has not asked me to serve as a bridge to Hispanic communities, recruit Hispanic students, or confine my gifts to the portion of the mission most obviously connected to my ethnicity. He has asked me to bring the whole of who I am to the whole of Southwestern’s mission.
That distinction matters. There is a difference between being valued because an institution has found a useful place for your ethnicity and being trusted because its leaders believe your gifts can strengthen the institution itself. I have spent little time wondering whether I am merely a token Hispanic at Southwestern, because the breadth and weight of the institutional responsibility entrusted to me would make little sense if I were. Southwestern has not asked me to work only for people who look or sound like me. It has given me the opportunity to labor for the kingdom and, therefore, for people from every tribe, tongue, people, and nation.
Southwestern for the World
Lastly, I would say that Southwestern has possessed a heart for every nation, for every tribe, and for every people and language since its inception. It continually reminds its students that, for generations and still today, Southwestern graduates have labored for the gospel in every time zone across the globe. Hispanic and Latin American communities are not peripheral to that mission; they are central.
One need only spend a few minutes browsing Southwestern’s news archives to see the evidence: a certificate partnership with the ministry school of Prestonwood en Español; the Hispanic Leadership Network gathering hosted by Southwestern in Fall 2026 to encourage and connect local Hispanic ministers; a seminary-funded apologetics conference in Honduras; and the substantial number of Hispanic students who have graduated through the institution’s various Spanish-language educational initiatives.
These are not isolated gestures created to satisfy a contemporary cultural expectation. They are genuine expressions of a missionary instinct that has animated Southwestern from the beginning. Southwestern believes theological education exists not to preserve a single culture, but to serve Christ’s church among all peoples. And anyone who wants to be about that mission, the mission of the Name of Christ being proclaimed to the uttermost, would find a home at Southwestern.
So, if you asked me whether a Hispanic can thrive at Southwestern Seminary, my response would be yes. God is already doing a work in and through Southwestern that reaches Hispanics and the world. And if you asked me how you might shape your institution into a place where Hispanics (and Koreans, and Chinese, and Germans, and Canadians, and Mozambiquans) can thrive, then I would point you toward Southwestern Seminary as an example.
- Lloyd B. Potter and Nazrul Hoque, Texas Population Projections, 2010 to 2050 (Austin: Office of the State Demographer, Texas Demographic Center, 2014), 3. ↩︎
