What Are You Really Building?
The Question That Shifted Everything: What Are You Really Building?
It began, as it often does, with something small: a casual invitation to speak to a group of ten-year-olds about entrepreneurship. It was meant to be simple. A quick talk. A few slides. A few smiles.
But by the end of that same day, three vastly different moments collided: a children’s Shark Tank-style fundraiser, a licensing conversation with city council about the future of education in Johor, and a disrupted church session that turned into something much deeper.
These weren’t isolated events. Together, they pointed to one urgent question every founder, educator, and parent must eventually ask:
What are you really building?
Most people scale for profit. But what if you scaled to preserve purpose?
What if growth wasn’t about having more, i.e. more students, buildings or reach, but becoming more grounded in your why?
If your business doubled tomorrow, would your purpose survive the pressure?
This is the question that stayed with me.
From Lemonade Pitches to Licensing Paperwork: Lessons in Real Value
The morning began on stage.
In front of me sat a group of curious, fidgety ten-year-olds. Eyes wide. Energy high. Minds open. They were about to launch a fundraising event for refugees. I was invited not because I had free time, but because someone believed I could add value to their preparation. I walked in hoping to inspire them. But as always, they inspired me back.
We began by destroying a myth: “You’re too young to start.”
I told them stories of Mikaila Ulmer, who turned a bee sting into a lemonade business; Mosiah Bridges, who started making bowties at nine and built a fashion brand; Ryan Hickman, who began recycling at three and turned trash into tuition funds. None of them waited to grow older. They acted on value and mission.
I shared four forms of value with them:
- Convenience – Make life easier
- Scarcity – Offer what’s rare
- Creativity – Add beauty, fun, meaning
- Connection – Build trust and emotional resonance
Then I asked: “What can you create that makes people smile, saves them time, or feels special?” And they began to think not just like sellers, but like servants. Entrepreneurs not of ego, but of empathy.
Later that day, I stepped into another kind of stage. One with policy, language, and licensing.
I remembered my early days, asking the education department for permission to use an English name. I didn’t request it for prestige. I needed it for possibility. I had a dream that would cross borders. And the dream needed a name that could open doors. Not erase my local roots, but invite others in.
Ironically, some assumed “Stellar” was a Korean or Singaporean brand. When they learned we were homegrown in Johor Bahru, they were shocked. And moved. That’s when I realized: my strategy was misunderstood. But my heart never changed.
Growth is only real when it protects identity, not just expands reach.
The Real Test: Do You Build Bridges or Just Bigger Buildings?
Later in the day, I found myself in a very different kind of conversation. This time, with a representative from MBIP (Majlis Bandaraya Iskandar Puteri). It was the result of a long process of building trust, aligned with the mission to bring education that doesn’t just meet compliance, but uplifts communities.
We were invited to meet because we had insisted, consistently, that education must remain untouchable by shortcuts. We declared early on: we don’t play games. We don’t bribe. We don’t cut corners. This isn’t just a school. It’s a multi-generational calling.
Surprisingly, we found an ally in the council. A soft-spoken Malay officer whose humility and integrity reminded me what purpose looks like when it’s lived out, not just spoken.
He shared how his three children were already working adults, and how blessed he felt. Now, he wanted to give back. “If I don’t help create jobs now, what legacy am I leaving behind?” he said. That sentence stayed with me.
That’s what it means to be purpose-driven: to pursue what’s good for others, even when there’s nothing left to prove for yourself.
When I shared our dream of helping students discover their Malaysian identity while thinking globally, he listened. Not as a bureaucrat, but as a father.
We agreed on something simple but powerful: Johor deserves more homegrown dreams that scale internationally. But let’s not lose our soul while gaining visibility.
Even something as simple as our brand name, “Stellar,” wasn’t chosen for glamour. It was chosen for possibility. It was our way of saying: we believe Johor has something the world needs. And we’ll use whatever language necessary to deliver it.
Some people assume we’re a Singapore brand or Korean-owned. That’s okay. Because every time I get to say, “No, we’re born in Johor,” I’m not just defending geography. I’m reclaiming dignity.
And perhaps even more important than that was what I learned later that evening.
That night, we were hosting our regular life group gathering. We had planned to stream the Global Leadership Summit video via AirPlay. But it didn’t work. HDMI? Also failed. We tried again. Nothing.
Now, I’ve learned in life to observe patterns. When both devices failed, I didn’t just see a tech glitch. I saw a divine interruption.
Instead of pushing through with the program, we paused. We began to talk. About life, about struggle, about what’s been weighing on our hearts. And the night transformed. It became what it was always meant to be: real life group.
It wasn’t just us.
The next day, I checked in with the second group. Unplanned. Unscripted. They also had no activity. No content. Just a raw, human conversation.
That’s when I realized something.
It’s not the program that transforms people. It’s presence.
We often hide behind impressive events, well-produced slides, flowcharts, strategy decks. But the real value: the 情绪价值, as one seasoned educator put it, is how people feel when they walk away from us.
We were later advised by the former Director of SEAB (Singapore Examinations and Assessment Board), who kindly mentors us. He echoed the same thing: forget long, funny policies. No one reads them. Parents don’t want a manual. They want understanding.
The true success of a school is not defined by curriculum alone. It’s in the quality of relationship between staff and parents, teachers and students, admin and community.
Flowcharts build walls. Trust builds bridges.
Build with Purpose. Scale with Heart. Serve with Vision.
By the end of that long, layered day, I was left with more than memories. I was left with a blueprint. Not for a building. But for a way of building.
What the students needed from me that morning, what the parents needed from our admin, what our council partner needed to hear from a school founder, what our life group needed when the screen went blank was the same:
Presence over performance. Mission over momentum. People over programs.
At one point during the student session, a girl initially shook her head when I invited her to the front. I didn’t push. But I kept inviting. And after 20 minutes, by the 4th question, she stood up. Nervous. Small voice. But she owned her moment.
That’s leadership. Not a title. Just the courage to take one more step than you’re comfortable with.
One life transformed is more than enough. Because that one life will go on to transform a thousand more.
That’s missional growth.
The P.R.I.C.E. of Missional Growth
Here’s what I’ve come to believe: True growth isn’t free. It demands a price. And that price is worth paying.
- Purpose: Do you know your why? Would you still do it if no one clapped?
- Responsibility: Do you own the outcome, even when things fall apart?
- Integrity: Do you do what’s right when no one is watching? No shortcuts?
- Connection: Are your bridges stronger than your walls?
- Endurance: Can you keep going, even when the reward seems invisible?
Missional growth is slower. Less glamorous. But it lasts.
The Servant’s Reflection
In 1 John 4:20, we are reminded:
“Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar.”
Loving God is not separate from loving people. If your growth is hurting others, it isn’t missional. If your strategy breaks connection, it’s not from Him.
We must build systems that serve, not just scale. Because any growth that makes you more self-centered than surrendered is not leadership. It’s noise.
Serving will cost you comfort. It should.
Serving without sacrifice is just performance.
The Reverse That Redefines It All
The opposite of missional growth isn’t stagnation. It’s impressive emptiness.
Yes, you can build a bigger school.
Yes, you can secure the license faster.
Yes, you can run flawless programs.
But if there’s no presence, no connection, no meaning
Then all you’ve scaled is the size of your echo chamber.
Let’s build differently.
Let’s grow for legacy, not applause.
Let’s raise children who don’t just succeed…
But serve.
