A Flight That Missed Its Destination

The day began with an early morning flight from Kuching to Johor. Our aim was simple: land at Senai in time for an interdepartmental meeting. But thick fog covered Johor that morning. The pilot circled again and again, waiting for visibility to improve. As fuel began to run low, the decision was made to divert. We landed at Changi International Airport in Singapore instead.

Changi is celebrated as the best airport in the world. It has gardens, cinemas, and world-class facilities. Yet in that moment, standing in its polished halls did not feel like an achievement. It felt wrong. Because no matter how excellent Changi was, it was not our destination.

This paradox stayed with me. In life and leadership, we sometimes arrive at places that look impressive. Others congratulate us. The world calls it success. But deep down, we know it is not where we were meant to be.

When Labels Feel Like Detours

Yesterday, I was invited to a wedding. It was Arielle’s first time at a church matrimony and a wedding dinner. She is still less than a year old, and I carried her through the entire service. That moment mattered deeply to me. Nine years ago, when my first child was her age, I could barely last half an hour before handing him over to my wife. Weak and unprepared, I had to stand aside.

That day, holding Arielle, I remembered the promise I made to myself: to grow strong enough, disciplined enough, and present enough to carry my children whenever they needed me. Years of walking, swimming, and training had prepared me for this moment.

During the service, the bride thanked many who had shaped her life. Then she mentioned me, calling me a humble leader who inspired her by leading through example. The words touched me, but they also unsettled me.

What moved me even more was the kind of person she and her family have always been. In a world where many enter your life asking for things, theirs is a family of givers. They give more than they take. They lift more than they demand. That is why I gladly accepted their invitation, even when I have declined many others.

Their words honored me, but their lives reminded me of something even greater: that true significance is not found in titles, but in the posture of giving. And as I stood there, holding Arielle in my arms, I found myself quietly praying that this family would be blessed for generations to come. That their spirit of giving would continue to flow, shaping not only their household but everyone whose lives they touch.

And still, the parallel remained. It felt like that flight. We had aimed for Senai but landed in Changi. The world calls Changi the best, but it was not the right place. Being called a humble leader felt the same. The label sounded good, but it was not the destination I know I am still striving toward.

Labels can be like airports. Some shine with accolades, yet they may not be where we belong. A child mislabeled as weak may grow up blind to the God-given purpose and potential within them. A leader mislabeled as great may stop seeking growth because reputation feels enough. Both are equally dangerous, because labels can distract us from the true destination we were created for.

The Subtle Drift Toward Numbness

This is the risk for every leader. Decisions made with the best knowledge in one season may reveal hidden costs in another. Lee Kuan Yew once prioritized English as Singapore’s main language to build global trade. Decades later, he emphasized bilingualism, realizing that heritage and identity mattered as much as international competitiveness. China’s one-child policy once seemed pragmatic. Today, the nation faces one of the lowest fertility rates in the world, with schools and kindergartens closing for lack of children.

The danger is not only in making mistakes. It is in becoming numb to them. Leaders can get so used to working around errors that they begin to tolerate them. Over time, tolerance turns into habit, and habit becomes culture.

John Maxwell calls this the Law of the Lid: leadership ability sets the ceiling for an organization’s growth. If compromise becomes culture, the ceiling lowers without anyone noticing. His Law of Process reminds us that leadership develops daily, not in a single day. It requires discipline, not applause. Jim Collins made the same point in Good to Great: good becomes the enemy of great when leaders settle for comfort.

The pattern is clear. Kodak once held near-total dominance in photography. Its film business was the Changi of its time, celebrated, profitable, admired. Yet it missed the digital destination, and its excellence became irrelevant. In Malaysia, Proton once carried national pride. But years of protectionism weakened its competitiveness. What looked like strength turned into decline. Both are reminders that the best place at the wrong time can still be the wrong place.

This same drift is visible in Malaysia’s broader context. Labor productivity grew only 1.8% in 2023, compared to Singapore’s 4% and Korea’s 3.3%. In education, Malaysia ranked 55th in mathematics and 58th in science in the 2022 PISA results. Our children are not less capable. But the system has often tolerated mediocrity under the excuse of limited resources or short-term convenience.

The same erosion can happen in personal life. A marriage may look stable while communication fades. Parenting can shrink into managing routines and schedules, while the deeper work of nurturing a child’s God-given purpose and potential is left unattended. Over time, numbness convinces us that nothing is wrong. We tell ourselves that Changi is good enough, forgetting that we were never meant to land there.

That is why the words at the wedding unsettled me. To be called a humble leader is encouragement. But if I allow myself to believe I have already arrived, I risk becoming numb. Recognition can disguise itself as reality. Decoration can replace destination.

Choosing the Right Landing Place

That foggy morning taught me more about leadership than a library of theory. Landing at the best airport in the world is still failure if it is not where you were supposed to be. Leadership works the same way.

The world may admire where you land. But only you and God know whether it is the right place. For me, that destination includes being strong enough to carry my children, leading my organization without tolerating mediocrity, and walking faithfully in integrity even when applause makes it tempting to relax.

One simple way forward is to test decisions against regret. Ask yourself: If I look back ten years from now, what would I regret not doing? That question has a way of cutting through the noise. Another step is to seek mentors who have walked ahead. Their perspective protects you from mistaking decoration for destination.

Labels are encouragement, not certificates of completion. Awards and reputations are milestones, not the final landing place. So the next time you find yourself landing at the best airport, pause and ask: Is this truly where I was meant to be? Because excellence at the wrong place is still failure at the best thing.