The Paradox of Success Before 30

The world often celebrates early success. We admire lists like Forbes 30 Under 30 and repeat stories of Steve Jobs building Apple in his garage, Bill Gates generating millions in revenue in his twenties, or Mark Zuckerberg creating Facebook while still in college. These narratives create the impression that success is about speed, youth, and brilliance.

But my story has taught me something different. Every success I have today was born not from strength but from weakness.

It was failure to enter university that taught me empathy. It was betrayal in business that broke my pride and opened me to mentorship. It was seeing families fractured across Johor and Singapore that compelled me to build Stellar Preschool. None of these came from polished talent. Each was born from a place of pain.

This is why the idea of “success before 30” needs reframing. It is not defined by how fast we rise, but by how honestly we learn from weakness and allow it to shape us.

Weakness as Crucible

When I was 18, I failed to enter university. In a society that equates academic progress with destiny, that failure felt like the end of possibility. I was ready to give up and even considered selling pirated DVDs because I believed there was nothing better I could do.

But when I had already given up on myself, my mother and sister refused to give up. Their belief in me was greater than my own. That act of empowerment shaped the way I now lead. It is why Stellar’s culture insists on being empowered, not entitled. Weakness in me became a principle for others.

Biology helps explain why this crucible matters. The human brain, especially the prefrontal cortex responsible for judgment and vision, does not fully mature until around 25 to 30 years old. In many ways, the immaturity of youth is not a flaw but a developmental stage. Failure at that point became the training ground for deeper resilience.

The second crucible came from success that collapsed. My first business venture was profitable, even outperforming another international school. But personal conflict with my partner spiraled into political battles that overshadowed everything else. I gave up my controlling share and eventually walked away broken.

That failure forced me to find a mentor. It also forced me to listen. And my mentor not only modeled humility but pointed me to Christ. If success had continued uninterrupted, I might never have been willing to hear. Weakness emptied me enough to receive.

The third crucible was social rather than personal. Living in Johor Bahru, I watched thousands of parents cross into Singapore every day in search of higher salaries. The currency difference promised opportunity, but it also created absence. Fathers were away. Marriages were strained. Children struggled with discipline, not because of school failures but because of broken family structures.

It was weakness at the level of society that made me ask a personal question: What kind of father do I want to be? The answer to that question gave birth to Stellar Preschool, because education cannot stop at academics. It must reconcile fathers to families, and families to purpose.

Interpreting Weakness

Weakness is not the opposite of strength. Weakness is the condition in which strength can form.

Muscles grow by tearing and rebuilding. Neurons strengthen through strain and recovery. Immune systems mature through exposure to challenges. Biologically, weakness is not disqualification. It is how living systems adapt and grow stronger.

Leadership is no different. John Maxwell’s Law of the Lid explains that talent alone can take you only so far. Leadership determines effectiveness, and weakness is what compels us to raise that lid. It humbles us into seeking help, mentors, and systems larger than ourselves.

History echoes the same truth. Nelson Mandela’s 27 years in prison, weakness by worldly measure, became the foundation for his moral authority to lead South Africa. Singapore’s rise under Lee Kuan Yew was not built on abundance but on scarcity. It was weakness that demanded discipline and resilience.

Even in business, the myth of early success is distorted by survivorship bias. For every Zuckerberg, there are thousands who coded in dorm rooms and failed. The few we celebrate are exceptions, not rules. Weakness is the more common story, and it is the one that shapes character.

From Weakness to Witness

Weakness becomes witness when surrendered.

For me, failure to enter university shaped my desire to believe in others more than they believe in themselves. Business betrayal pushed me into mentorship and anchored me in faith. Witnessing the cracks in families across Johor and Singapore gave me the conviction that education must include fathers, mothers, and marriages.

Weakness is not a detour from success. It is the foundation on which lasting success is built.

This is true for anyone. Weakness reminds us we are human, not gods. It teaches empathy, guards us against entitlement, and anchors us in integrity. Success before 30, if it is to be meaningful, is not defined by how high you climb, but by how deeply you surrender.

Anchored in Hope

The world tells us to hide our weakness, to erase it or push past it. Scripture tells us something different: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

That truth reframes everything. Weakness is not where the story ends. It is where Christ begins.

Every turning point in Stellar’s journey carries this testimony. Empowerment was born because my mother and sister believed in me when I could not. Mentorship was born because brokenness forced me to listen. A preschool was born because societal weakness demanded a different kind of fatherhood.

If there is any trajectory in my life before 30 or beyond, it is not that I was strong, but that in weakness, Christ was strong.

The Reverse That Redefines It All

Youth often convinces us that time is the enemy. Yet the real danger is not the passing of time. It is believing that weakness must be hidden.

Weakness does not erase success. Weakness shapes it. The danger is not that you are weak, but that you refuse to let weakness be redeemed.

When weakness is surrendered, it becomes witness. And witness outlasts youth, outlasts talent, and outlasts even time.