The World Is Shaking — So Let the Heart Wake! 12 Ramadan, 1447AH : Asking Ar-Rahman Series — Ibraheem Habeebah Adedoyinsola

All praise is for Allāh, Ar-Raḥmān, the Most Merciful, Ar-Raḥīm, the Especially Merciful; and may peace and blessings be upon the Messenger of Allāh ﷺ, and upon his family and all his companions. 

The world feels heavy. 

News of war. 
Airstrikes. 
Retaliation. 
Civilian casualties. 

The headlines are relentless. 
Innocent lives shattered. 
Children pulled from what used to be their homes. 
Families — entire communities — reduced to rubble. 
Futures stolen before they even begin. 

Today a child laughs. 
Tomorrow a widow is silent in grief. 

Cities fall. Leaders die. Innocence is lost. 
Homes — once stable — vanish in an instant. 
Futures carefully planned are suddenly broken. 

When children lose their homes, their schools, and their sense of safety, our hearts are shaken. 
When families mourn loved ones with unfulfilled dreams, our spirits are stirred. 

And it is Ramadan. 

The month of mercy. 
The month of Qur’an. 
The month when we stand in prayer at night — while somewhere else, families stand in darkness not knowing if morning will come. 

And in the quiet of your room, a question rises: 

What is the point of this life, if everything can disappear so suddenly? 

Pause there. 

Because the discomfort of that question is not meant to depress you. 

It is meant to awaken you. 

This World Was Never Meant to Be Permanent 

Allāh says: 

كُلُّ مَنْ عَلَيْهَا فَانٍ ۝ وَيَبْقَىٰ وَجْهُ رَبِّكَ ذُو ٱلْجَلَـٰلِ وَٱلْإِكْرَامِ 
“Everyone upon it will perish. And there will remain the Face of your Lord, Owner of Majesty and Honor.” 
(Ar-Raḥmān: 26–27) 

Everyone. 

Everything. 

Every empire. 
Every army. 
Every tyrant. 
Every victim. 
Every one of us. 

Not just them. 

Us. 

The world feels unstable because it is. 

It was never designed to hold us forever. 

It is a corridor — not the destination. 

And when the corridor shakes, perhaps it is meant to wake those walking through it. 

Before You Are Taken to Account… 

When we see homes collapse overnight, we are reminded how fragile our own lives are. 

No one expects an ordinary day to become their last. 

No one plans for their final conversation. 

Some of those children laughed hours before the bombs fell. 
Some of those fathers left home thinking they would return by evening. 

And one day — it will not be someone else. 

It will be us. 

ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb رضي الله عنه said: 

“Take account of yourselves before you are taken to account.” 

Before the Day when Allāh says: 

فَمَن يَعْمَلْ مِثْقَالَ ذَرَّةٍ خَيْرًا يَرَهُ ۝ وَمَن يَعْمَلْ مِثْقَالَ ذَرَّةٍ شَرًّا يَرَهُ 
“So whoever does an atom’s weight of good will see it. And whoever does an atom’s weight of evil will see it.” 
(Az-Zalzalah: 7–8) 

When cities crumble, it whispers to us: 

Your house is not permanent. 
Your status is not permanent. 
Your carefully curated life is not permanent. 

Your deeds are. 

Your record is. 

Your meeting with Allāh is. 

If tonight were your last night — truly — 
would your heart feel ready? 

Or would there be panic? 
Regret? 
Unsent apologies? 
Unrepented sins? 
Prayers you postponed? 

Imagine being lowered into the earth while the world continues scrolling. 

Imagine your own name becoming the headline. 

This is not written to frighten you. 

It is written because Ar-Raḥmān is still giving you time. 

Others did not receive that time. 

Let Global Tragedy Create Personal Awakening 

It is easy to feel powerless watching oppression. 

We cannot stop every war. 
We cannot shield every child. 

But we can purify our own hearts before they harden. 

We can repent before our own record is sealed. 

We can stand longer in sujūd — while we still can. 

The Prophet ﷺ said: 

“The intelligent person is the one who holds himself accountable and works for what comes after death.” 
(Sunan al-Tirmidhī 2459 — ḥasan) 

The intelligent one prepares. 

Not for comfort. 
Not for status. 
But for the inevitable meeting with Allāh. 

A Duʿā’ for the Oppressed — and for Ourselves 

Tonight, let your duʿā’ carry grief, humility, and urgency. 

Say: 

Yā Ar-Raḥmān, have mercy on the oppressed in every occupied land. 
Yā Al-ʿAdl, bring justice where there is tyranny. 
Yā Al-Jabbār, mend communities shattered by violence. 
Yā Al-Ḥafīẓ, protect the innocent children whose futures have been stolen. 
Yā Latīf, be gentle with widows who sit in silent grief. 
Yā Rabb, be a Guardian for every orphan who sleeps tonight without a parent. 

And then whisper for yourself: 

Yā Allāh, do not let me meet You unprepared. 
Yā Ghafūr, forgive me before I am forgiven too late. 
Yā Muqallib al-qulūb, keep my heart firm when the world shakes. 
Yā Ar-Raḥīm, do not let tragedy soften me emotionally but leave me unchanged spiritually. 

Because one day, the world will not be watching tragedy unfold. 

It will be watching us lowered into the earth. 

And after that — only our deeds will remain. 

The World Is Shaking. Let Your Heart Wake. 

This life is fleeting. 

But accountability is certain. 

Ramadan is not only about feeling spiritual. 

It is about deep introspection before the Day we are taken to account. 

Let the suffering you witness soften you — not numb you. 
Let the fragility of life detach you — not depress you. 
Let the brokenness of the world push you closer to Ar-Raḥmān, not further away. 

Because cities may fall. 

But the mercy of Allāh does not. 

May Allāh grant relief to the oppressed, protection to the orphan, justice to the occupied lands, patience to the grieving, and sincere awakening to our hearts before we return to Him. 

Āmīn. 

#AskingArRahman