Allah ﷻ in Islam: Preface

 

I still remember the day my mother took my hand after helping me put on a new white jalabiya and a small turban. I was really proud—felt like everyone was looking at me—as we walked to Bilal Ibn Rabaḥ Mosque, a small neighborhood mosque just a few blocks from our home. I was five years old and, as you might expect, had no idea what was waiting for me there.

I sat with a group of children and started reciting the Qur’ān. I enjoyed it. I really did. It was never something I did just to please my mother or because I had to. I felt comfortable there. I was… happy.

That feeling never really left me—wa al-ḥamdu lillāh.

Until today, every time I enter a mosque, I feel a sense of familiarity. And whenever I travel to a new city, the first thing I look for is a mosque. I still remember the look on my friend’s face after we spent three days camping in the Tunisian desert. When he asked what I liked most, I said: praying in the Mosque of ʿUqbah ibn Nāfiʿ.

When I think about that time now, I do not think about responsibility or expectations. I just remember how it felt. Life was simple back then. We did not have long, exhausting philosophical arguments—maybe because we were just kids. We rarely debated; it was more about how things felt than how we explained them.

It was just me and God.

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My journey with the Qur’ān continued for many years. I memorized it at a young age and spent nearly eighteen years in the Al-Azhar education system.

The Qur’ān always brought me a sense of calm I cannot really explain. If I’m being honest, it was not deeply personal back then. I had immense respect for it, reciting it daily without paying attention to its deeper meanings—especially what I’m exploring here.

At some point, I assumed I saw God the same way most people did.

I did not realize how naïve that was.

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If this reflection resonated with you, the full version continues here: [Preface]