A Life Mapped Through Meaning

It’s quiet here—just me and the heat. Everyone else is off at a workshop in KL. But today’s not just another Tuesday. Earlier, we had a meeting that felt like a tectonic shift—the kind that doesn’t just affect this week, but the next decade. A momentous turning point.

It got me thinking: what makes a life momentous?

Some call them milestones—birthdays, weddings, promotions. But not every moment that changes us is celebrated. Some are quiet. Some are painful. And some are invisible to others but seismic within. So tonight, I’m mapping my life—through the lens of timeless leadership stages, reflected in the lives of ancient figures. Whether or not you believe in Scripture, these stages reveal something universal about becoming.

Let me first lay out the standard leadership timeline, as inspired by these figures—then I’ll show you how my own journey wove through (and sometimes around) them.

Part 1: The Timeless Leadership Timeline

Before I trace my own path, here’s the general arc I’ve come to see—anchored in timeless human experience, mirrored in biblical figures. Regardless of faith, the lessons are universal.

Part 2: My Life Across the Timeline

Dreamer Stage (14–17) – Joseph

Most discover dreams during these years. Mine started early—age 12. While my peers were busy with chatter and games during a school talk, I was feverishly taking notes from a speaker who talked not about religion, but about life. Purpose. Wisdom. I copied his quotes again and again. That day, I told myself: I want to be like him. A messenger of meaning.

The irony? I was a socially strange kid. I didn’t like food, socializing, or what everyone else found fun. But I had FOMO—so I played along. Still, that talk planted something deeper than belonging. It awakened calling.

Wilderness Stage (18–24) – Esther

But then came the wilderness. From 16 to 18, I lived recklessly—chasing fleeting pleasures, ignoring purpose. By 18, I’d failed major exams. I was ready to give up—apply to the cheapest university to avoid burdening my family.

But my mom wouldn’t let go. Her faith in me was irrational—looking at me like I was still a top student. She believed in a version of me I no longer recognized.

So I made a silent decision: This ends now. I cut off entertainment. I studied while friends played. I worked odd jobs. I fought my old self every day. By 22, I became a lecturer. I chose purpose over profit—turning down my family business to pursue education. That decision—painful and personal—was my Esther moment.

Testing Stage (25–29) – Daniel

Conviction under pressure. At 25, I met Wenny. And when I did, I didn’t just date—I planned. We drew up a life roadmap: announcement dates, kid count, values alignment. We weren’t just falling in love—we were building a legacy.

Aden came when I was 29. With fatherhood came a quiet revolution. I shed remnants of my old life: late nights, selfish ambition, ego. I didn’t just commit to a person—I committed to a new kind of leader. One who leads with presence, not just plans.

Jesus Years (30–33) – Jesus

These were the years of costly clarity. Jesus began his ministry at 30 and completed it by 33. I took this seriously.

I had built a successful venture, but it didn’t align with my soul. I gave it up.

More importantly, I finally did what I had resisted for years: I sought a mentor. I had long prided myself on independence. But I laid down my pride and asked for help.

And everything changed. He helped me reset my internal compass. I redefined marriage. I released my image of the ideal leader. I learned to serve my team instead of managing them. I gave up status for substance.

This stage wasn’t just a pivot. It was a surrender. And it cost me more than money—it cost me my ego. But in return, it gave me peace.

Legacy Shift (Paul’s Stage – Happened Early)

Most wait until their 50s to mentor. I started at 30. My first mentee came not when I felt ready, but when I least expected. And as I coached others, I was really coaching myself. Every question I asked them reflected my own need for clarity.

Within months, four mentees. But they weren’t following me—I was learning how to walk more authentically because they were watching. Leadership became accountability. Not authority.

Midpoint Reckoning (41–49 – Moses, But Early for Me)

I hit this around 35. COVID, marriage tensions, leadership burnout—all hit at once. I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. The wins no longer satisfied. The failures hurt more. The pressure felt crushing.

But it was also freeing. I wasn’t being destroyed—I was being remade. My identity wasn’t “the founder,” “the father,” or “the fixer.” It was someone learning how to be whole. Not perfect. Just real.

Final Word: The Power of Letting Go

Here’s the paradox: the older I got, the more I led by letting go.

Letting go of ego to ask for mentorship.

Letting go of comfort to choose purpose.

Letting go of control to serve my team.

Letting go of perfection to embrace growth.

Most think leadership is about building up. But sometimes, it’s about stripping away everything that doesn’t matter—until what’s left is true, timeless, and transferable.

Leadership isn’t a race.

It’s a rhythm.

And like the Taj Mahal, majestic from afar—it started brick by brick. So does every life of impact.

Take your next brick. It matters more than you think.