I struggle a lot with this.

The unending insecurity. Looking good enough. Giving off good vibes. It’s always been there, and it’s still here. It will likely be a struggle for a while.

But as I was writing this, God helped me see that the root of this self-image struggle began in Primary School. I distinctly remember the girls in the basketball team commenting, on numerous occasions, how sickly and pale I looked.

I thought I could brush these comments off, but for some reason, their words really got to me. I really didn’t want to care but deep down I did. So from a young age, I wanted to be excellent at everything – to have everyone’s approval whether it was in sports, academics or my looks.

I distanced myself from people — even my friends — because I feared that if they got too close they would see how ugly I really was both inside and outside.

I never really dealt with the hurtful experience from Primary School. And it was easy to bury that because I attended an all-boys school and an all-boys discipleship group in Church. So I didn’t have to interact with anyone of the opposite gender … Until it was time to join Youth Fellowship in Church.

To my horror, my silent struggles came up again: “What are others going to think of me? Are there scary, judgey girls around who will say the same thing? Can I fit in?” I remember how I hated to walk through a room full of people and the inevitable feeling that I looked strange and awkward.

And as usual, I just didn’t deal with this issue.

Fast forward to Junior College: I was now playing basketball at the national level, so I began to take it more seriously.

When competition season came, a few of us went on diets: We restricted our carbohydrate intake and cut down on unhealthy food, eating only vegetables and meat. The thing was that we did it with good intentions to improve physically. And I also thought it was a cool thing — we were like the NBA guys!

But what I didn’t know was that this was really only intensifying my inner obsession with how I saw my body. It never became an eating disorder, but it was powerful enough to excite me whenever I saw how I improved my looks cutting calorie by calorie. I could shave off my ugliness with each gram of fat, and recreate a “new me” one healthy meal at a time.

It sounds good, and it sure felt good to actually feel good about myself! But while I was in better shape physically, I had actually dug a deeper hole to hide all the discomfort that was still there from being in my own skin.

I remember all the training sessions in school and with the national team when we had to play “skins versus shirts.” That meant one team was half-naked and the other had jerseys on. It was always a terrifying mental nightmare each time I was on “skins” — I hated that.

The more I know Jesus personally, the more drawn to Him I become. It’s as though my heart was made to find full satisfaction and rest in Him.

The struggle continued into National Service. I thought it was awesome because I lost a lot of weight from the training and became very lean from the running. And after going to Brunei for 9 days where I lived on 2 days’ worth of food, I lost 6 kilograms! It was something I was more than thrilled to boast about.

Around this time, a really close friend innocently commented on my physique: “Isn’t it easy for guys to have abs and look like Abercrombie models?”

That was what she said. But I heard the words as, “Why don’t you look as if you were sculpted like a Greek god? Shouldn’t you be fitter-looking?” Lost in translation, her comment threw me onto an exercise spree and dieting regime once more.

Over the next few years, I continued to oscillate between restricting my diet and giving up. The obsession was draining. I fussed over every single thing I ate and every repetition of lifting weights. I was dying living like this: Caught in a cycle of chasing unattainable perfection, never good enough.

And it got me thinking more wrong thoughts: If I could never be good enough for myself, would I ever be accepted by God?

Honestly, I still struggle with my self-image. But I thank God that He is patiently correcting my heart and renewing my mind about it. Only God is able to empower me to see myself the way He sees me.

God has been showing me that I can and must fix my eyes on Jesus. He is the captivating radiance of the glory of God (Hebrews 1:3), and all I have to do is simply gaze upon His beauty (Psalm 27:4) — then the things of the world will dim.

The more I know Jesus personally, the more drawn to Him I become. It’s as though my heart was made to find full satisfaction and rest in Him.

From this position of acceptance and rest, I naturally want to spend more time and energy doing my Father’s business. I’ve become gospel-minded, realising I just don’t have time to waste obsessing over exercise regimes or diets.

My health first comes from fixing my eyes on Jesus.

Jesus is my Bread of Life (John 6:35), broken and torn for me on the Cross.

Knowing this didn’t just change the way I saw myself — it also changed the way I related to others. Dietary choices no longer restricted me from having a meal with my friends. As silly as it sounds, if I can now eat anything anywhere, then I can fellowship and share Jesus over a meal with others so much more easily!

His daily bread is all the “staple carbs” I need each day! With Him, I don’t need to hunger for approval or affirmation anymore.

I’m on a tough journey, and it’s humbling to remember that I’m just a struggling sinner — never perfect and beautiful enough for myself. Yet ugly, weak and bad as I am — Jesus chose me for His kingdom.

I know my self-image well now: I am loved by Jesus and found in Him (Colossians 3) — I take on Jesus’ likeness whenever the Father looks at me.

This is who I am. A child of God.