At the age of twenty, I began asking myself a difficult but honest question: How relevant is my religion in shaping who I am and who I want to become?
I found myself skeptical about the connection between Islam and Muslims — the way the religion was taught versus the way it was lived. For a time, I was even ready to turn my back on it altogether.
Then, life took me to Europe, where I encountered Muslims of every background, culture, and walk of life. That experience shifted my thinking once again. I realized that Islam is not always represented by Muslims — that the faith itself, pure and divine, is often distorted by human behavior, ignorance, or culture.
Later, when I moved to the United States, I saw yet another version of Muslims — some who carried the name but not the essence of the faith. It was at that moment that I understood something fundamental: there is a profound distinction between Islam and Muslims.
Islam is a way of life.
It is not merely a set of rituals, but a daily practice of values drawn from the Qur’an and the authentic Hadiths of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). Islam teaches us to treat all people with justice, equality, and sincere respect — while preserving our own dignity and self-respect.
To be a true Muslim is to live with integrity, patience, honesty, charity, morality, ethics, humility, and principle — not sometimes, but in every interaction and every moment of life. This is the ultimate, lifelong goal: to live with purpose, to embody faith in our actions, and to strive for goodness until our final breath.
Of course, perfection is not possible. We are human — fragile, forgetful, and surrounded by temptations and unseen influences. But God, in His mercy, gave us tools to return to Him: consciousness, intellect, and the capacity to repent. When we nurture these gifts with sincerity and patience, we grow stronger in will and wiser in heart.
That’s when we truly understand the importance of prayer (salat), remembrance (dhikr), and fasting (sawm). These practices are not burdens; they are powerful spiritual anchors that keep us grounded, centered, and connected to the Divine.
From an early age, I have witnessed the beauty and power of God. I decided that He is my only true companion and refuge. My faith is personal — it lives quietly in my heart. I do not seek validation from others; I seek peace through my connection with Him.
I am, by nature, a solitary person. I find peace in solitude — in reading, writing, and contemplating the vastness and mystery of this world. The realization that life is temporary strikes me deeply and often. It reminds me to detach from what is fleeting and focus on what is eternal.
By the time I reached my forties, I came to another realization: I do not need many friends. I have my siblings and a beautiful family, and that is enough. In today’s world, friendship often feels shallow or transactional. Trust and warmth are precious; they should not be given freely like tokens. They must be earned and protected.
Through all of life’s trials, one truth has remained constant for me: God is my ultimate confidant.
He is the One I turn to with my secrets, my pain, and my hopes. Every time I have felt despair, He has shown me signs — gentle reminders that I am not alone, that I am watched over, and that I am never prey for life’s predators.
So, I say this with love and sincerity:
Please, take care of your soul.
Nurture it, guard it, and never forget that your connection with God is the most sacred relationship you will ever have.
Nawal
Community Empowerment 