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From Luke’s Journal Sept 2025 | Vol. 30 No. 2 | Success-Failure

Introduction: Superhero origins

My tumultuous journey through medicine – wrestling with pressure, self-doubt, and mental health issues – reveals how failure has played a crucial role in shaping my success. Raised Catholic, I played on the Christian team throughout school. I loved God and wanted to save the world, to sacrifice myself for the vulnerable. At the same time, I was captivated by superheroes – especially the Teen Titans. I longed to absorb others’ emotional pain like the empath Raven or multitask at super-speed like the Flash. I even tried standing outside in a thunderstorm, hoping to be struck by lightning and transformed into the Flash or Lightning Lass. (Thankfully, I failed to pass that entrance exam to Professor Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters!)

The “caring” profession of medicine appealed to my desire to be a superhero who rescued the suffering; however, it is also a profession that often measures success through power, performance, and prestige. Ultimately, I discovered that success in work can only be defined by the fine design of the Divine. That is, my work is not my identity. A superhero is not my identity. My identity is in Christ alone – and it is He who saves the world.

The detective years

Lacking superpowers, I pivoted toward Batman-style dreams. I wanted to be a detective, inspired by Nancy Drew, Poirot, and Sherlock Holmes. I created spy kits and imagined solving great mysteries.

Unfortunately, becoming a detective required police training. Although I had the powers of deduction, the school careers advisor said I would fail the physical requirements – too short and poor eyesight.

The powerless period

During senior high school I also first faced the formidable forces of depression and anxiety. This constant conflict within led me to contemplate a career in psychology and, eventually, medicine with a specialisation in psychiatry.

Despite excelling academically and graduating as dux, I sobbed over “disappointing” marks. As a stereotypical Asian, my identity was wrapped up in academic achievement and STEM subjects – not the “Mickey Mouse” subjects like the creative arts and sport.

My older siblings had also been dux and preceded me to the same medical school. So, in the pool of medical students, I became one of the common dux (ducks). Instead of swanning, I ducked undercover. However, this is where I joined AFES (Australian Fellowship of Evangelical Students), CMDFA, and FME (Fellowship of Medical Evangelism). It was here that I understood the gospel for the first time. I learned that salvation is a gift (Ephesians 2:8), not earned through excellence. I was reconciled to God, not by my efforts, but by Jesus’ finished work. Not only could I have an unbroken relationship with God, but I now had new relationships in the Christian family flock. We were so close that I am still friends with a few quacks 30 years later!

I learnt the overall master plan of God in the Scriptures. I was trained in “manuscript discovery” (how to read, re-read and analyse scripture for myself) without needing to turn off my brain. I took to it like a duck to water. Manuscript discovery was not merely an academic exercise, but an unfolding conversation with our Heavenly Father through time.

“Manuscript discovery was not merely an academic exercise, but an unfolding conversation with our Heavenly Father through time.”

Parallel to medicine and Bible immersion, I started to learn martial arts at university – first, 6 years of taekwondo, and then, thirty years of Goju-Ryu karate. I also chose to explore the medical science behind pain and martial arts, recognizing that the striking points of martial arts correlate with acupuncture points. I could see the web of connections woven through the katas of martial arts, the anatomy of the human body, and the myofascial and neural pathways of acupuncture meridians together reflecting the divine order and wonder of God’s creation.

I began to understand that my identity was not defined by academic success. Our university pastor told us that all legitimate work was equal in value – that being a doctor was no more important than being the cleaner. However, everyone should consider full-time ministry as the “only” career with eternal significance. While I do not fully agree with that viewpoint now, back then, this was where the idea of medical mission work in India started to form.

For my fifth-year elective, I went to an Indian leprosy hospital. It was a well-run outreach clinic run by the Vellore Christian Medical College Hospital with excellent staff and systems. It became clear they did not need Western doctors.

Kryptonite callings

After graduation, I sought broad medical experience through a range of hospital terms. But my indecision, hyper-sense of responsibility, and fear of making mistakes empowered my arch-foe: Anxiety. Some unfortunate examples include:

• General Surgery – A post-operative patient had an acute myocardial infarction after hypotension that I had failed to manage, scoring a vehement tirade from the surgeon.
• Emergency Medicine – Rapid decisions were needed. Once, I saw only two complex patients in an eight-hour shift, also scoring a scolding for being too slow.
• Psychiatry – I expected to walk and talk with the patients. Instead, I charted unfamiliar medication adjustments, sedated the psychotic, and prepared legal documents for tribunals.
• Obstetrics – I had only assisted in one delivery in my fourth year but was expected to manage complications in deliveries even though the midwives had much more experience.

The method for training on-the-job in medicine was: “See one, do one, teach one”. When I had to repair my first perineal tear without ever having seen one repaired before, I ended up neatly sewing up the vagina too! (Thank God for oxytocin’s superpower of memory erasure!)

While my residency was completed with due diligence and care, I often cried in the toilets. I felt that I could not weather, let alone control, the storms. I was not Duo Damsel, who could duplicate herself, so she could be in two places at once. I could not respond at superspeed to the constant pages by the nurses. I could not shapeshift to adapt to the current crisis. I did not have Raven’s telepathic abilities to read the consultants’ minds. I was scolded for asking for help with small matters that overwhelmed me, and I was scolded for not asking for help on serious matters – because I was afraid of being scolded for asking for help! I felt as though I was drowning in a sea of misery.

“I was scolded for asking for help with small matters that overwhelmed me, and I was scolded for not asking for help on serious matters – because I was afraid of being scolded for asking for help!”

Next came general practice. I liked the idea of continuity and variety. As an optional part of FRACGP training, in 1997, I completed Part 1 of the Monash Course in acupuncture for the FAMAC (Fellowship of Australian Medical Acupuncture College) and earned my full fellowship in 2004.

For 10 years, I did acupuncture as part of general practice. However, the kryptonite of medical uncertainty and time constraints in 15-minute appointments gradually drained my energy and joy, allowing anxiety to creep in and conquer.

Divorce and depression dismantled my inner armour and forced me to surrender general practice, and instead, work for myself as a GP acupuncturist. Laid bare, on my knees, holding an empty tissue box, I was broken – in career, marriage, mind and spirit.

The resurrected phoenix

God had been carrying me through every one of my failures. Out of the ashes of my obliterated career rose the acupuncture phoenix!

• I needed 20 patients per week to survive. In the next week, when I opened my home clinic, I had 20 patients.
• I could work at my own pace, in my own space, around my daughters’ needs – without guilt, rushing, or being “too slow”.

God stitched the fragmented failures of my life into a beautiful work quilt:

• I could finally use my superhero-like desire to heal.
• I am becoming a supersleuth, piecing together the puzzle of physical, emotional and spiritual pain.
• I use Raven’s empathy to draw out harmful emotions.
• My martial arts targets pain with precise pinpoint accuracy.
• I can translate traditional Chinese medicine through a lens of Western physiology:
• I use low-level light therapy (photobiomodulation), not to dominate like Dr Light, but to bring healing: “Let there be light!” (Genesis 1:3 NIV).
• Now, each acupuncture needle points to our Creator who brings shalom in mind, body, and spirit.

From stumbling superhero to successful servant

In my brokenness, God showed me I am a human being, not a human doing. Jesus rescued me – I was never meant to rescue the world.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest…
For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28–30 NIV).

My burden is light because, by grace, we have been saved – not by works, but through the unearned mercy of God. I do not have to work for acceptance from God or mankind. I have nothing to prove to intimidating consultants or insecure nurses. I aim to let harsh criticism roll off me like water off a duck’s back, secure in my identity in Christ.

Yet, when my skilled karate instructor critically corrects my blunders, I can listen and adjust without shame. At the end of every karate class, we say, “ありがとう ございます” (arigatou gozaimasu meaning, “Thank you for teaching me.”) to acknowledge the lessons learned – even from those of lower rank – without defensive pride or superior arrogance.

Instead, I can walk freely in God’s success, humbly sharing the acupuncture knowledge I’ve accumulated to help equip students in their own healing work. There is no room for boasting, as this knowledge is also a gift from God. Therefore, I am content to remain a lifelong student in all things, receiving divine lessons from pupils, patients, peers and pastors.

Even with my indestructible identity as a beloved child of God, I sometimes “fail”. But knowing my weaknesses allows me to be prepared, with a lead box to contain the kryptonite. I work only three days a week, booking one-hour appointments in a job I enjoy, in order to manage my mental health. Weaknesses, mistakes, suffering, and failures can humble without destroying.

They are my stepping stones to hope.

“…we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.” (Romans 5:3–5 NIV).

Professionally, my career path could look like failure. General practice is underappreciated. Medical acupuncture is dismissed, even by GPs, despite Level 1 evidence and strong safety data. It pays poorly. But relieving pain through acupuncture is deeply fulfilling. In this “sweet spot,” I feel God’s pleasure.

Acupuncture is a space where I can serve God by using my God-given gifts to serve others. I do not have to go to a leper colony in India. I am in ministry wherever God places me and wherever I am; I can do all for the glory of God, even my failures. Not by my own power, but through “The Sun of Righteousness who rises with healing in his wings.” (Malachi 4:2 NKJV).

As Stuart Townend wrote in the song, How Deep the Father’s Love:

“I will not boast in anything:
No gifts, no power, no wisdom;
But I will boast in Jesus Christ:
His death and resurrection.” ¹

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