I was listening to Shaykh ʿAbdul Munʿim reciting Sūrat al-Baqarah on my way home from work the other day.
Now let me set the scene. It was a typical British winter’s day, dark by 5 and raining, and to say the day was tiring would be generous.
I’m driving, following the speed limit, everything feels like a blur, and then my heart begins to ache. No apparent reason. Just a dull, quiet yearning. For what? Allāh knows best.
The Shaykh reaches āyah 186. I hear it once and it doesn’t phase me much.
Then he repeats it.
And then again.
So I rewind. “Let me pay more attention,” I think.
That’s when I notice it. The beautiful inflection in his voice when he says ʿIbādī (My servants).
SubḥānAllāh. These shuyūkh have been gifted with such a rare ability, to convey meaning not just through words, but through sound. Even if you don’t understand the language, something still settles deep within the heart.
If I were to summarise that part of the verse, Allāh says:
“When My servants ask you about Me, I am truly near . . . "
(Sūrat al-Baqarah, 2:186)
This āyah made me feel shy, proud, and deeply disappointed all at once.
Allāh addresses me as My servant. He speaks to me.
He does not say My righteous servants.
He does not attach a condition or a description.
He simply says ʿIbādī.
That is me and you. Whether we are sinful or striving, at our highest or lowest, happy, tired, broken, or distant, in every state.
When I say my heart exploded, I’m not being dramatic. I genuinely don’t know how to explain what that moment did to me.
It reminded me of a praise attributed to one of our predecessors when calling upon Allāh:
“O the One who sees me in His magnificence, while I fail to truly see Him.”
SubḥānAllāh. How astonishing is our Lord?
He owes us nothing. And yet, daily, we walk over His commands with confidence. We choose what suits us, ignore what doesn’t, and live as though accountability is distant, if at all.
And still, He calls out to us with this depth of mercy.
Wallāhi, even the word love feels insufficient here.
I feel disappointed in myself. Do I really deserve such muḥabbah from Allāh?
It is as if my heart wants to beat out of my chest, while at the same time crumbling under the weight of guilt.
Do I really deserve such recognition from my Creator?
- Bint al-Qalm (عفي عنها )