Have you ever read a Qur'anic verse a hundred times, only to discover one day that it was speaking directly to you? A simple Subuh taddabur on Surah Al-Baqarah changed the way I look at life, purpose and my place in Allah's story. Perhaps it may change yours too.
Reflections on Surah Al-Baqarah, Ayat 30–34
There are moments in life when a simple sentence changes the way we see everything.
For me, that moment came unexpectedly during a taddabur session after Subuh prayers on Surah Al-Baqarah. I had read these verses many times before. I knew the story of Prophet Adam AS, the angels and Iblis. Like many Muslims, I thought I was already familiar with them.
Yet that morning, something happened. Not around me. But within me.
As the discussion unfolded, it felt as though Allah was gently opening another window in my heart. For the first time, I stopped looking at these verses as the story of Adam alone. Instead, I began asking myself a question that had never crossed my mind before.
Where am I in this story?
It was a question I could not answer immediately, but perhaps that was exactly where the journey needed to begin.
For almost seventy years, I have lived through different seasons of life. I have been a student, an employee, a journalist, an editor, a husband, a father and now, in the twilight years of my journey, someone who finds joy simply sitting quietly and reflecting on Allah's words.
Looking back, I realised that every important chapter of my life began with an appointment. Someone believed in me. Someone entrusted me with a responsibility. Someone expected me to carry out a task. Every appointment came with duties, expectations and accountability.
Then another thought quietly entered my heart. Long before I received my first appointment letter from any organisation, had I already received a far greater appointment?
As the ustaz reflected on Allah’s words: "Indeed, I will place upon the earth a khalifah." (Surah Al-Baqarah:30), I suddenly realised that Allah was not merely telling us what happened at the beginning of humanity. Perhaps He was also reminding every one of us why we are here.
Until that morning, I had never looked at the verse from that perspective. I had always admired the story. I had never really seen myself inside it.
Perhaps that is why the Qur'an never grows old. We may read the same verses for decades, yet when Allah wills, they speak to us as though we are hearing them for the very first time.
As I listened further, another realisation quietly settled in my heart. Life is far more than simply growing older. It is more than earning a living, raising a family, building a career or counting the years until retirement. These are all blessings from Allah. But perhaps they are not the reason we were created. Perhaps they are merely the setting in which we fulfil something much greater: the trust of being His khalifah.
That single thought changed how I looked at my own life. I began thinking about the countless mornings when I had rushed into another busy day without ever asking why Allah had granted me another sunrise. Another day was never just another day. It was another opportunity to honour the trust He had placed upon me.
Suddenly, even ordinary moments seemed different: speaking kindly, keeping a promise, being honest when nobody was watching, helping someone who could never repay the favour and choosing forgiveness over pride. This was what living as a khalifah looked like.
Allah taught Adam the names of all things before asking him to carry the responsibility. Before responsibility came knowledge. Before leadership came learning. Before service came understanding. How often, in our haste to achieve something, do we forget that Allah first prepared Adam before entrusting him? Perhaps He is still preparing us too.
Then came another scene. The angels acknowledged what they did not know. There was no arrogance. Only humility. Then came Iblis. He saw the same command. He heard the same words. Yet pride blinded him. As I reflected on these verses, I realised that perhaps every human heart quietly carries both possibilities. The humility to submit. Or the pride to resist. The choice is renewed every day.
For years, I had thought these verses were introducing the story of mankind. Now I wonder if they are introducing the story of my own heart. Every morning I choose whether to remember the trust or to forget it; whether to serve or merely to seek recognition; whether to become softer before Allah or harder before my own ego.
That is why these verses moved me so deeply. They did not merely answer a question. They gave my life a deeper sense of purpose. No longer did life appear as a journey from birth to death, collecting achievements along the way. Instead, it became a journey of trust—a journey of becoming worthy of the responsibility Allah had already entrusted to every one of us.
I do not claim that I fully understand these verses. Far from it. In truth, I feel as though I have only just begun discovering them. And perhaps that is the greatest gift the Qur'an gives us: not the feeling that we have mastered it, but the joy of realising that there is always another door waiting to be opened.
As I walked home after our Subuh taddabur session, the streets were still quiet. The walk took only a minute or two, yet it became one of the longest journeys my heart had ever taken.
The verses of Surah Al-Baqarah continued echoing gently in my mind. I had not found all the answers. If anything, I was carrying home more questions than when I had arrived. But something had shifted quietly within me.
Allah had entrusted me long before I ever understood that trust.
Perhaps the rest of my life is simply learning how to be worthy of it.
Perhaps that is what this journey of the heart has always been about.
— Malai Hassan Othman
.jpeg)
No comments:
Post a Comment