When Glamour Fades, Value Rises

We used to host our sports days at the grand city sports complex. It was everything you would expect from a polished, state-level venue. Professional tracks. Modern seating. Beautiful backdrops for photos. It was clean, convenient, and most of all, impressive. It made us look like we had arrived.

But this year, things were different. That complex was under renovation, so we had to find a new venue. Our only viable option? A local government school. No stadium seating. No polished turf. No branding walls. Just a public field, some parking by the roadside, and a whole lot of humility.

I will be honest. The first time I drove up to that venue, I felt a quiet discomfort. I parked near a dusty curb and stepped out of my car feeling like we had taken a huge step backward. It was not glamorous. It was not even close. For a moment, I wondered whether we were about to disappoint hundreds of parents who expected more.

But then I stepped inside.

The field was spacious. There was a full track, not just a rental lane. We had a designated obstacle course set up for the lower primary children. An ambulance was on standby. A DJ with a proper sound system supported the atmosphere. And as the day unfolded, it became clear, something real was happening here.

It was not glamorous. But it was meaningful.

Children who had never participated before now had a chance. Parents who had never clapped so loud now found themselves cheering not for the event, but for their child. And after the day ended, we received a long email from a parent. Not to complain, but to thank us. She said she had seen our sports days evolve year after year. And this year, even without the shine, she saw the substance.

And that was the moment it all clicked.

This was not a marketing event. It was not meant to impress. It was meant to express. It was a window into who we are, what we value, and how we grow. And in that moment, I realized: the absence of glamour had uncovered the presence of value.

You Thought It Was a Downgrade. It Was a Deepening

That contrast stayed with me. Not just in the venue, but even in what I was wearing. My outfit for the day was simple. A regular Uniqlo t-shirt. A pair of sports shoes that cost me ten ringgit. A thirty-nine ringgit blazer I have had for years. A second-hand watch that tracks my fitness.

A colleague teased me for being underdressed, especially next to his branded, expensive jersey. I laughed along, but I also told him something I truly meant.

This shirt may be cheap. But it’s the person wearing it that builds the value.

He looked at me, surprised. And I explained.

It is not about the shirt. It is about the soul wearing it.

It is not about the shoes. It is about the steps they carry forward.

Here’s a little metaphor:

If you watch a bird eating a worm and think eating worms will help you fly, you have missed the point.

We live in a time where people imitate success by copying tactics. They mimic the external signs: what someone wears, what they post, how they speak, hoping it will somehow grant them flight. But the bird does not fly because of what it eats. It flies because of how it is built. Its purpose, its design, and its discipline are what lift it.

The worm is not the source of flight. It is just fuel.

And in leadership, it is the same. You do not rise because you borrowed someone else’s show. You rise because you have built your own strength. Your own rhythm. Your own clarity.

Are You Rich, Dad?

Later that evening, as we were driving home from church, my eldest son, Aden, looked at me and asked a question that was both innocent and profound.

“Dad… are you rich?”

I paused. I have been asked about success, leadership, even money before. But never quite like this. Never with those eyes. Never from someone who still believes in bedtime stories.

I took a deep breath and answered honestly.

“As long as you have food on the table, and a roof over your head, you are rich.”

He looked puzzled. “So… you’re normal?”

I smiled. Then I said:

“I am rich in health. Rich in purpose. Rich in family. Rich in friends who would show up if I needed them. I am not rich because of what I have. I am rich because I know why I am here.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, “Is Joe richer than you?” He was referring to a younger friend of ours, sitting beside him. Joe is 23, single, still living with his parents.

I explained:

“Joe might earn less than me, but he also carries less. He is in a different stage. His expenses are light. His responsibilities are different. And right now, that makes him comfortable. But as life grows: marriage, children, commitments, your definition of rich must grow with you.”

Then Aden asked a question that only a child would think to ask.

“Do you pay yourself? How do you decide your salary?”

And without skipping a beat, I brought the conversation back to sports day.

“If I do my job well, if parents see that their children are learning, growing, thriving, then the value of what we do increases. When people see that what we build matters, they are willing to invest more. And with that, yes, I can pay myself more. But not because I demand it. Because I have delivered it.”

He nodded. Not because he understood the economics, but because he grasped the heart of it.

Value is not just declared. It is experienced.

And in that moment, my son learned something it takes many adults years to realize.

Nature Knows: Glamour Is Not Survival

If you look closely at nature, you will see the same lesson written over and over again.

Take the peacock. Its feathers are stunning, but they slow it down and make it easier to hunt. Beauty comes at a cost. Sometimes, the flashier the species, the more vulnerable it is.

Or take the bamboo. For years, it barely grows above ground. People think it is dead. But underground, its roots are going deep. And when the moment comes, it can shoot up over ninety feet in just weeks. True strength takes time. True value grows underground.

Even the mycorrhizal networks beneath forests, those invisible fungi that connect trees are some of the most powerful systems in the natural world. They are unseen. But essential.

Leadership is the same. Some of the most impactful people I know are the least flashy. They are not always on stage. But they show up when it counts. They build culture. They carry burdens. They grow deep before they grow tall.

And this is not just poetic. It is measurable.

92% of people trust word of mouth more than any other form of marketing.

Real connection outperforms branding, every single time.

Create Real Value. Quietly. Relationally. Repeatedly.

At our church, we are trying to live this out too. We do not just run services. We open our homes. We break bread. We create space for conversations that do not fit into 30 min sermons.

We have had six services so far. After each one, instead of rushing off, we gather. Sometimes at mamak stalls. Sometimes in our living room. It is unglamorous. Sometimes chaotic. But always rich.

We are not building a crowd. We are building a community.

Not perform, but belong.

Not impress, but impact.

Not just a church. A family.

And it is working. People who were once tired, disconnected, or unsure are slowly finding their rhythm again. Their belief is returning. Their relationships are healing. Their sense of purpose is being restored.

The Reverse That Redefines It All

The opposite of value is not failure.

It is performance without purpose.

It is looking the part but lacking the heart.

It is eating the worm and wondering why you still cannot fly.

Today, we did not host a glamorous event. But we held a meaningful one.

We did not wear shiny shoes. But we ran a good race.

We did not impress with polish. But we showed up with presence.

And maybe, just maybe, that is what matters most.

For today, I have fought a good fight.

Kept the faith.

And finished the race.

Just for today.