83% glasses: on performance pressure and the search for rest

When you step into the MRT (the subway) or walk through a shopping mall in Singapore, one striking detail quickly catches your eye: almost everyone around you wears glasses. At first, I assumed it was a coincidence or simply a local fashion trend. But when I looked up the numbers, they turned out to be staggering. Singapore is globally known as the 'myopia capital of the world'. An astonishing 83 percent of young adults wear glasses or have myopia, and among 12-year-olds it already reaches around 65 percent. By comparison, those percentages are vastly lower in the Netherlands.

Yet something else stands out in that same train that leaves a deep impression. Look around the carriages, and you will see people fast asleep everywhere. Students in particular sit slumped forward over their thick, heavy backpacks, dozing off. At every single station, they jolt awake to check if it is their stop, only to squeeze their eyes shut again immediately. For many of them, that thirty-minute commute on public transit is literally the only moment of the day when they can rest. Honestly, my heart goes out to them.

How does an entire nation end up with such widespread vision problems and exhaustion? The root cause is not genetic, but a direct consequence of societal culture. Scientists have discovered that developing eyes require natural daylight to grow properly. Sunlight triggers dopamine release in the retina, which prevents the eyeball from elongating excessively. Yet children in Singapore barely spend any time outdoors. From a young age, they remain indoors from early morning until late at night: first in school, then straight to tuition centres (intensive private tutoring classes), followed by hours of studying at a desk inside an air-conditioned apartment.

Behind these demanding schedules lies a deeply rooted performance culture. Society here is strongly hierarchical: parents raise you through immense hard work and personal sacrifices, creating a heavy sense of obligation to live up to their lofty expectations. Add the famous concept of kiasu (the fear of falling behind), and scoring straight A's feels like the only viable path. I recently discussed this with one of my housemates who is originally from Singapore. He shared that even during his early years as a missionary, he still felt that pressure: 'I felt I had to perform to bring people to God.' Until he realized: 'I cannot save anyone on my own strength. I don't need to turn this into a human performance metric.' That discovery brought him profound peace in life.

Yet you notice how easily that same drive to perform permeates church life as well. Because everyone works overtime on weekdays and Saturdays are booked solid with tuition, the entire Sunday gets packed with activities. Last Sunday I experienced this firsthand. First a morning service, followed by joining a youth group for an Alpha session, a quick shared lunch, and straight on to an afternoon service. When I was invited to yet another Bible study afterwards, I politely declined. My head simply could not process any more input. That evening I collapsed onto my bed, grateful for all the meaningful encounters, but physically just as exhausted as after a long workday.

It also made me reflect on church life back home in the Netherlands. Because honestly: aren't we secretly quite similar? In our own home churches, almost every weekday evening is filled with meetings, committees, task forces, and activities. Sometimes a church begins to resemble a corporation where everything must be organized, structured, and managed down to the finest detail. Don't get me wrong: dedication and good organization are admirable. But amidst all that busyness, do we not sometimes lose sight of what truly matters? How much do we genuinely leave in God's hands, rather than trying to control every outcome through our own rigid structures and action points?

It holds up a personal mirror to me as well. That current of constant productivity easily pulls you in. I notice that in the evenings, sitting on my bed, I am easily tempted to open my laptop anyway: 'Just quickly researching this for tomorrow's server tasks.' That is why I now deliberately choose to explore a cultural spot in the city right after work and grab dinner nearby. It keeps me from sliding into work mode and forces me to genuinely unwind.

In the Bible, the Sabbath is intended as a sacred gift. A deliberate moment to stop running and realize that our worth is not measured by what we produce, achieve, or organize, but by who we are in God's eyes. Whether it involves school grades, server infrastructure, or a packed church schedule: we are invited to let go, trust Him, and simply rest in His grace.