As someone who was training to become a champion fighter, I thought I was tough. I thought I was strong. I thought I had everything under control. But it’s not until something you deeply care about is nearly taken from you that you realise how easily you can break.
the making of a fighter
I grew up with loving parents who would take me to church on weekends. My name is Jesh, or Jeshua, which is a name from the Old Testament that my dad chose. He always loved reading and studying the Bible, ever since I can remember. But like most people, there came a point where I had to decide for myself what I believed and how I wanted to live my life.
Growing up, my brother and I always wanted to do martial arts. But my dad, who had been a boxer and a motorcyclist in his younger days, said, “No, don’t do that.” Naturally, my brother and I decided we would pursue both.
When I finished school, I started drinking, partying and going from one drug to the next, trying to find some kind of satisfaction but never getting what I was really looking for. From the outside, it might have looked like I was having fun, but on the inside I felt a deep, empty void. I put my family through a lot during that time and it wasn’t easy for them to watch me go down that path.
Later when I got married, I realised I couldn’t keep living this way. I had to start being a real man. I had to take life more seriously. I didn’t want to bring addiction and substances into my home and my marriage. So I let go of the partying and focused more on martial arts. But I quickly became obsessed. The moment results started showing, I had one goal: become a champion fighter.
While martial arts had helped me leave drugs and alcohol behind, I had simply replaced one addiction with another. Instead of chasing the high that substances gave me, I chased the validation that came from winning competitions and medals.
My desire to become a champion fighter was a selfish pursuit, but my wife was supportive of my decision, as were my parents (yes, even my dad). They respected the fact that I was an adult, and I think they knew they couldn’t control what I did.
But the truth is, it was all about me, me, me. I loved hearing people say, “Oh look at that guy, he’s strong” and my internal dialogue at the time was very much, “Yeah, I am strong. I can handle anything.” Until I realised I couldn’t.
the day it all changed
My wife was late in her pregnancy with our first child when we had to rush her to the hospital. After she’d been seen, the doctor came out and told me there was a 99 per cent chance my daughter wouldn’t survive. Not only that, but my wife’s life was also at serious risk.
As a father, there are no words for what it feels like to stand in a hospital and be told you might lose the ones you love the most. My parents’ pastor came and prayed a final farewell over our daughter. Once everyone had left, I remember thinking, What can I even do? I found a private room in the hospital, knelt down and cried. I called out to God and said, “Can You help me? Can You help me?” I promised that if He saved them, I would give my life to Him. The next day the doctor came to me and said, “Your daughter and wife are fine. It’s a miracle that they both survived.”
Thankfully, the three of us eventually came home healthy and well. But I didn’t change. Each time I looked down at my daughter, I would remember the promise I’d made to God and think, He did answer my prayers. Still, I did nothing about it.
a second wake-up call
Not long after this, my world was shaken again. I was at the gym with a friend when he had a heart attack. I tried to resuscitate him, but he didn’t make it. I lost a good friend that day.
I went through a really dark season after this. For the first time in my life, I felt what it truly meant to suffer, and I felt a deep need for help. One night I picked up an old, dusty Bible I’d had stored away and started reading it, trying to understand who God is. I remember sitting in my daughter’s bedroom, reading about Jesus and how He died for me on the cross. Suddenly a feeling of peace and warmth flooded over my body.
I’d never experienced anything like it before. It’s hard to describe, but in a time where life felt so heavy and dark, it became light. I believe Jesus met me that night to show me that there is hope—that there is a God, a loving God, who has answers to life’s mess and pain.
searching for truth
From that point on, I really started questioning my life and tried to read the Bible with an open heart. I read it all the way through, from Genesis to Revelation, and there were so many eye-opening moments for me. The more I read, the more I thought, Wow, this is really something. I began to understand God’s character in a way I never had before.
I questioned whether I was just reading the Bible because I had seen my parents do that growing up. So I started looking at other worldviews and exploring other religions. I dived into evolution, pantheism, Buddhism, Hinduism, and I read the Qur’an and other spiritual texts. I wanted to know which god it was that had helped me and which one to give my life to.
Christianity provided the best answers for me. It had the best evidence and made the most sense when I looked out at the world and what we humans long for. But as well as that, reading the Bible had truly changed my life, as did learning about and praying to Jesus. Eventually I went looking for a church to attend. I wanted to find a group of people who didn’t just follow tradition, but who truly followed Jesus and lived as He lived.
still showing up
Fast forward, my wife and I just celebrated our daughter’s tenth birthday. Every day, she is reminded that she’s a miracle, and I’m reminded of the blessing it is to have her in our lives.
I’m no longer chasing championship titles, but I still show up at the gym most days. I used to be the guy who walked in worshipping himself, with nothing but winning in mind. My identity was tied up in titles and what other people thought of me. Now I work here as a coach and I see plenty of young men arriving with those same desires I once had—chasing titles, trying to prove themselves, looking for their identity in fighting and validation. I get it. I was them.
Thankfully, my identity is no longer tied to any of that. The void I once tried to fill with drugs, then with validation, has been filled with Jesus. I talk to Him daily and it’s reshaped what matters to me.
Now I’m here to lead by example—through my actions and my words. To get to know people, build real relationships and support them through whatever they’re navigating, both inside the gym and out. I’m not trying to force my views on anyone. I just want to show them there’s a better way to live. That there’s more to life than just fighting.
And despite what people might think, there’s a real brotherhood here.
