Never Desiring Anywhere Else
Personal Reflections on Selected Quran Verses (Part II)
This is the second post in my Quran reflections series; you can read the first edition here. I acknowledge that a more thematic architecture might serve these scattered, simple reflections better, yet they remain what they are: scribbles from my notebook that I have simply chosen to make visible. Their seemingly random constellation reflects this honest genesis.
Disclaimer: I am not a religious scholar or tafsir expert, and this is a basic reflection from a trying believer. The thoughts I share here are purely a product of my amateur understanding and curiosity, and are not intended to be presented/perceived as an authoritative interpretation. God forgive me if I displease Him in any way, and may He accept from us our sincere seeking.
“We have revealed to you the Book as an explanation of all things, a guide, a mercy, and good news for those who ˹fully˺ submit.” [16:89]
The Holy Quran, our blessed gift, drips with majesty and evokes awe in every syllable. The undying beauty of it lies in the truth that it was sent as a mercy and a guide to humanity, as a comfort and a compass. We are called to read it not only to know our faith and Creator, but to discover ourselves and better understand both the visible and the veiled. We are invited, ever so gently, into the infinite Light.
Every verse is a universe of its own and a testament to the glory and mercy of the Creator. Each, thus, is worthy of and has warranted devoted and individual scholarly exploration, as has been done so through tafsir for the last 14 centuries. It is crucial for a proper understanding of each verse to understand the surah it’s within, the verses preceding and succeeding it, and the context in which the surah was revealed, for all of these factors significantly shape the actual essence and validity of each interpretation.
Awe envelops me anew whenever I turn to this sacred Book, but there are some verses I often find myself consistently amazed by. That is not to say the entire Word isn’t a perpetually unfolding miracle, but there are some statements I find so magnetic and charged, so inviting into their mystery, that I find myself devoured by my curiosity and longing to be close to the Divine. I recognize my limitations in appreciating the Quran fully as it deserves due to my lack of fluency in Arabic, but its glory is that even when translated from its original tongue, it still touches the heart in a way that nothing else can.
When I come across certain verses, it is as if time has slowed to a gentle stop. Noise vanishes, my surroundings become irrelevant, my modern distraction ridden brain calms. I always, without fail, have to stop and give in to this change inviting me towards reflection, no matter how many times before I have encountered it or how well I think I understand it. Each time, such is the miraculous nature of the holy Book, my mind and spirit seem to be resurrected in complete and utter wonder. It’s as if I’m seeing those words for the first time, and am at once inundated with thoughts and queries of their magnanimous nature.
So, here are twelve of those verses and some reflections, starting with one that has been at the forefront of my mind and heart recently:
“O believers! What is the matter with you that when you are asked to march forth in the cause of Allah, you cling firmly to the Earth?” [9:38]
SubhanAllah…I love the questions in the Quran. What a mighty mercy they are. This verse has been on my mind ever since I recently attended a beautiful talk by Dr. Mohammed Tahir, a British-Iraqi surgeon who traveled to and worked in Gaza throughout the genocide. Even the thought of his story brings tears to my eyes; he is a man of unwavering faith, a living embodiment of Husayni courage and conviction, Allah bless him. When he quoted it, the room, though already attentively listening, seemed to energetically shift. The silence thickened with new weight, as if we all felt the crushing heaviness of our collective shame descend upon us.
How much clearer can this verse be? What is the matter with you? Allah asks us. A reminder that we are our own greatest enemy when we defy our very purpose: which is to serve Allah and His cause. For those who have been listening, we have heard this question countless times in this age; the people of Gaza, the children of Gaza, tiny yet more mighty than us all, have been asking us over and over again: Where are you? Do you not see us? In other words — what is the matter with you?
Sadly, we live in a time where the people of righteousness are those who ask this and those without the answer dare to say we are all one and the same. Allah forgive us, for cling we do, to this temporary cold Earth, one that no matter how hard we try to make permanent, shall never be. So little is being asked of us, and yet the sound of silence deafens where there should be the thunder of marching feet — masses moving, mobilizing in service of all that is good and true. It seems with every passing day that my life is now a cycle of repeatedly echoing this question to the void, wondering what is so wrong with humanity that we have allowed our world to drown itself in the ugly sins of apathy and laziness. This poisonous laziness is our refusal to march when called to — and we are being called to every moment, every day…yet we cling firmly to the Earth, who we desecrate more and more each dusk and dawn. SubhanAllah. ‘What is the matter with you?’ the Divine asks. Can you fathom it? The Creator of the Heavens and Earth, the One who spoke existence into being, asks you, asks me, asks us: What is the matter with you? Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me, I say. I wish I knew.
“Whenever someone is touched by hardship, they cry out to Us, whether lying on their side, sitting, or standing. But when We relieve their hardship, they return to their old ways as if they had never cried to Us to remove any hardship!” [10:12]
I love love love when Allah addresses us so frankly in the Quran — when He references these very real, intimate moments we all experience. What is beautiful beyond measure about verses like this is that they remind us not only of how profoundly similar we are across all time and space, but of how Allah, in His omniscience, truly sees us through every phase of our existence. He is the all-seeing, the all-hearing, the all-knowing. In that is both resplendent glory and grace, as well as awe and angst. On that note, I am, as I assume most people would be, overtaken by guilt when I’m confronted with these words. Instinctively, my body adjusts to straighten my posture, my eyes widen, and my lips begin whispering repentant apologies.
Praise be to Allah for allowing me to get to a place in my life where He is my ultimate desire and Beloved. In His embrace I find refuge, in any distance I create I find only discomfort, forcing me to return. True contentment lies not in the absence of sorrow, but in anchoring oneself to the Divine — through joy and through grief’s inevitable companionship. In times of blessing and trial (though every time is a blessing, really), recognizing the presence and mercy of Allah is the key to unlocking the peace we desperately seek.
This verse also reminds me of a familiar scene often played out in film and television: a non-religious character, when struck by catastrophe, suddenly begins pleading to God. God rightfully condemns them for their ingratitude and selective belief. However, this verse speaks to us all. It is easy, perhaps, as a person of faith to look down upon such people for their lack of belief otherwise — but your devotion will never strip you of your Adamic origin. You do not miraculously transcend fallibility simply because you believe in God continuously, not merely in moments of extremity. This verse serves as an urgent reminder to acknowledge our weaknesses, the inherent fragility of our faith, our humanity. Let us be persistent in our devotion to the only One worthy of it…if there is anything we shall commit to consistently, let it be Him. Let us strive to be grateful to and present with God in all seasons, and let us recognize in His boundless glory that He is deserving of our praise amid both radiant sunrise and the descent into a dark night.
“The human being never tires of praying for good things; but when adversity afflicts him, he despairs and loses hope.” [41:49]
In Greater Sins by Ayatollah Shirazi, it’s narrated that in one tradition1, the second greatest sin, surpassed only by shirk, is said to be despair. Not murder, or violence, or adultery, but, in fact, the abandonment of hope. SubhanAllah.
We live, it seems, perpetually balanced upon a trembling seesaw — forever swaying between hope and hopelessness, euphoria and desolation, ascent and descent. How much simpler, how much lighter our existence might become if we truly understood that adversity, too, is a blessing veiled in difficult cloth. Perhaps then we might not commit this grave sin. Losing hope is a slow, deliberate death we consciously inflict upon ourselves. In surrendering to despair, we become both executioner and victim in one breath, slaying hope with our hands. How innocent and guilty we are all at once, how easily we fall into the devil’s silken snare. But perhaps that, too, is what makes us human, what distinguishes us from the angels: the perpetual struggle to rise again.
I think of moments where I have fallen into that suffocating abyss, as we all have at one point or another. It is as though one exiles oneself from light, locks the door, and throws away the key. When we’re in that dark space, devoid of hope, we abandon tawakkul — trust in Allah — and in doing so, we not only rob ourselves, but insult the Divine. What an unthinkable ingratitude, to doubt the very One who fashioned mercy from His own essence! As Dostoevsky said — a sin that can only be described as our worst, for in doing so, we have betrayed and destroyed ourselves, ultimately, for nothing.
With the state of the world today, too, I consider how despair is no longer a private sin, but a crime against humanity. I recently heard someone say that if you’re feeling hopeless, you’re too comfortable, and SubhanAllah, how true. Hope is not a luxury for the fortunate; it is a collective trust we owe to one another. To abandon it is to abandon the wounded who seek its light — to drag them with us into the depths of a darker night.
“And indeed We have employed every kind of parable for mankind in this Quran. And man is the most contentious of beings.” [18:54]
I am perpetually struck by this verse because of its piercing clarity and undeniable truth. What is humanity if not fundamentally contentious? Our world grows noisier than ever before, cacophonous with argument and discord, and yet the merest glance at history reveals how we have, with tragic consistency, remained faithful to our quarrelsome nature across millennia. We have, as God says here, debated the Divine needlessly so, as though the finite could reason with the infinite. None, alas, can escape the gravitational pull of the original sin: arrogance. We dare quarrel with God only because of our nafs, our ego’s ravenous hunger to satisfy itself. In doing so, we only lose, betraying the blessing of aql Allah has bestowed upon us.
“…Whoever takes a life—unless as a punishment for murder or mischief in the land—it will be as if they killed all of humanity; and whoever saves a life, it will be as if they saved all of humanity.” [5:32]
People often invoke this verse to illuminate Islam’s moral code and inherently peaceful nature, and rightfully so. In this time of watching the Palestinian genocide unfold, though, this verse seeps into me with such a heavy, devastating sadness that my understanding of it has been completely transformed…how could it not have been? I think of every soul unjustly torn from existence by the war-machine, by violent fanatics, by evil incarnate. Every man, woman, and child stripped from this life with no mercy — each a universe of potential, full lives stretching before them, dreams waiting to bloom. Truly, if there is any single truth we have been forced to witness in this apocalyptic time, it is the death of humankind itself.
God is articulating in this verse that if you sever one life, it is as if you have annihilated all of humanity — a statement reflecting the cosmic magnitude of this sin, yes, but also, I believe, speaking to something far deeper: each person is a universe unto themselves, infinite and irreplaceable. In this way, God is reminding us of the sacred, inherent worth and inexplicable value of each person. Each human being has such a necessary place in this world, their life interwoven so completely with the collective tapestry, that to erase their presence is to strip the world of an entire potential future. Consider for example the butterfly effect, which suggests that one seemingly infinitesimal action can irrevocably alter the trajectory of history. Now think for a moment if a switch was flipped and all of humanity was killed in an instant. It would be the end of the world, essentially, which, of course, will eventually be a reality, though we do not know when. Allah specifically says elsewhere in the Quran that only He knows when the Hour will come; it goes without saying that only He can usher it, for He is the one and only Creator of the world, and only He has the ability and right to bring its end forth. If one were then to unjustly kill another, thereby in the view of God killing all of humanity, is it not as if one has ended the world? In a more direct sense, as the butterfly effect suggests, they would have — because they stripped the world of a reality it could have had2. Only Allah can give life and take it, for any of us to do so unjustly is to infringe on His right, and who are we to do so?
“Your Lord has not abandoned you, nor does He despise you.” [93:3]
This verse evokes deep emotion in us all, I’d like to think…it speaks to us in language both direct and intimate, reminding us that the Word is both a direct address to the holy messenger ﷺ and to humanity. Yes, Allah is addressing the holy prophet specifically here, for this was revealed after 6 months of no revelation, which led to him falling into a depression — but the inclusion of these words in the eternal Book is also Allah addressing every single human being who will ever read it. He is reminding each of us of His nature: loving and present. How many times, how explicitly does He tell us that He is love itself, more tender than any mother could be, more boundless than our minds can fathom? He is present — even in suffocating silence, even in the the depths of loneliness — ever-merciful, ever-near.
I am struck too by the beautiful, tender humanity of our blessed Rasulallah, whose blessed nature warranted such loving consolation — his gentle heart, his innocence, his capacity to feel. This also reminds me of what is narrated in Surah Maryam: the Holy Virgin Mary, at the unbearable apex of her suffering, expressed that she wished ‘she had died and been a thing long forgotten’. Here we find God’s most beloved creations — His favorite man and His favorite woman — expressing with such raw vulnerability their emotional devastation, their human anguish. It is a profound reminder for all of us that it is no transgression to feel as we do, that Allah does not despise us for our tears and our pain. Rather, He exists as an eternally present comfort, praise be to Him.
“Perhaps you dislike something which is good for you and like something which is bad for you. Allah knows and you do not know.” [2:216]
Oh how I adore this verse with such intensity…I will never, could never, tire of its boundless wisdom. I feel like a flower blossoming anew whenever I encounter it, kissed again by the golden rays of first light.
There is a true comfort in surrendering to the truth that Allah knows and we do not…it is a devilish deceit to believe that knowing everything will somehow save us or offer us solace. We can’t even know everything in the first place — but to limit ourselves in the belief that we are 100% certain about some things is only to do ourselves a disservice. When we truly acknowledge that Allah alone is all-knowing, and that He embodies perfect wisdom, justice, and mercy, we liberate ourselves from the tyranny of our limited understanding.
I am reminded too in this verse of the jihad al nafs3, the sacred battle against our own desires and ego. When we construct our lives around what we like and dislike, we crown ourselves, not Allah, as the architects of our destiny. What a devastating loss that would be!
“Whenever one of them is given the good news of a baby girl, his face grows gloomy, as he suppresses his rage.” [16:58]
It is a sorrow that will never leave me: the knowledge that for far too many, the ultimate crime in this world is being born female. I will never, ever understand how despite the Word of God saying this so clearly — that it is good news to have a baby girl — so many supposed believers of this message live their lives demonizing the daughters of this world. They condemn them to a life of servitude and unending struggle, in brazen defiance of what Allah has decreed. Fourteen centuries have passed and still, the darkness described in this verse persists across cultures and continents, among both Muslims and non-Muslims who perpetuate this ancient treachery. Their faces grow gloomy indeed, their rage thinly concealed. And yet, we can find solace in the immutable truth that Allah has declared in His unchanged, perfected, eternal Book: to be female is nothing less than a gift. We can find solace in the truth that this world and its people are temporary, but the justice of Allah is eternal. Praise be to God, who knows the deepest truth of all things.
“Indeed, those who believe and do good will have the Gardens of Paradise as an accommodation, where they will be forever, never desiring anywhere else.” [18:107-108]
The final four words of this verse move me so…I fail to find the words to sufficiently express what my heart and soul whisper.
To never desire anywhere else…to be so free. Let us pray to taste even just a sliver of such liberation, to sit in its light, even if just for a moment.
“Then perhaps you would kill yourself through grief over them, [O Muḥammad], if they do not believe in this message, out of sorrow.” [18:6]
I am always deeply saddened and moved when I read this verse, because it captures with such clarity the magnitude of the beloved Prophet’s heart…the weight of his ache, his love, his immeasurable goodness. What more perfect title could exist for him than Rahmatul lil-alameen…mercy to all creation.
Imagine feeling so deeply for the souls of others that your grief reaches this pinnacle. He was the very embodiment of compassion, of empathy, of love made manifest. I am overwhelmed with adoration for him when I read this, and consumed with shame at how I feel we have collectively failed him in every conceivable way. If nearly two billion people claim belief in this message, supposedly, yet fail to actualize it, does this not warrant profound grief? And if we, ordinary human beings, feel such sorrow at the state of our Ummah, we cannot even begin to approach the magnitude of his pain. Let us thank Allah for the immeasurable blessing of our beloved messenger, and beseech Him to forgive us for our endless shortcomings and failures.
اللّهُمّ صَلّ عَلَى مُحَمّدٍ وَآلِ مُحَمّدٍ
Allah, send your blessings upon Muhammad and the household of Muhammad.
“And of His signs are the night and the day, and the sun and the moon. Do not bow down to the sun, nor to the moon, but bow down to God, Who created them both, if it is Him that you serve.” [41:37]
It is not uncommon, I believe, to encounter people who worship the miracle, not the miracle-maker. They speak so intensely of figures and phenomena, of those that shed light on the Divine, that they seemingly forget their glory exists only because they are signs of The Glorious. The sun and the moon, in all their beauty and illumination, are yet another creation of the Creator. They are a means through which Allah provides for us, not the providers themselves.
I used to wonder as a child why shirk was so emphasized as the worst of all sins — and this verse makes me ponder that perhaps because it is so slippery in nature. Shirk possesses a treacherous, almost imperceptible nature, a seductive whisper rather than a roar. Even the righteous can stumble into its snare through the veneration of miracles rather than the Miraculous One — and in this very subtlety lies its lethal power. Let us always anchor Allah at the absolute center of all our endeavors and gratitude, for He alone is worthy. Let us return, again and again, to the One whose signs fill the heavens, yet whose essence transcends them all. May every awe we feel guide us back to its true object — the Origin of all wonder, the Light behind every light.
“Say, ‘Consider this: if your water were to sink ˹into the earth˺, then who ˹else˺ could bring you flowing water?’” [67:30]
This is the closing ayah of Surah Mulk, which I try to read before going to sleep each evening. No matter how exhausted I am before and while reading, each time without fail, this verse awakens something within me. I’m left eyes half open but mind fully active, imagining a world without water.
It’s simple yet profound, a reminder that Allah alone is the Creator, the Sustainer, the Source. I envision the sea and imagine it emptying into nothingness — its vastness evaporated, its depths gone still. What would we do then, I wonder? What could we do? SubhanAllah, nothing! We are nothing but witnesses, no matter how much we wish to believe otherwise. Man will never be creator, something that ought to be echoed now more than ever.
Today, we find ourselves in an age where men have truly convinced themselves they are gods — or at the least, that they have forged gods through technological molding, via ill-fated LLMs. Their worship of the temporary: technology and their temporal selves, has left a massive stain on society in the shape of their grotesque sin. Our collective future is increasingly now shaped by the ‘innovations’ they proudly speak of as feats for humanity, the sound of birds’ songs replaced by their booming declarations of man-made divinity. In reality, of course, everything they ‘create’ is spiritually corrosive and environmentally destructive, eating away at the fabric of our existence. The data centers that power their tyranny swallow oceans of water, accelerating a crisis they are powerless to solve.
Yet, whenever I feel I’m drowning in the pool of sorrow this truth has carved, nearly hopeless (but not!) — I remember this verse. I don’t know how water scarcity will progress or how scientists plan to solve the issue, but I do know one thing. If our water were to sink into the Earth — no billionaire, algorithm, or artificial anything could bring us flowing water. How could they?
Page 24, volume 1 (linked in section)
Actually this got me thinking about fate in all its complexity…a question that’s warranted extensive philosophical exploration and discussion…so I’ve kept my original thought there but don’t know how I feel about it…not that anyone would take it that seriously but this note is for myself really
Linked, page 4/18
I started reading this at my desk this morning and quickly found myself needing to sit with each of these verses and words a little longer. I'm going to print it off and linger on it a little longer. Thanks for this gift.
Thank you as always for your reflections. ❤️ That first one is really sticking with me. I'm currently working on a piece about agency and accountability so I couldn't have read this at a more apt time.