إِنَّ الشَّيْطَانَ لِلْإِنسَانِ عَدُوٌّ مُّبِينٌ
Indeed Satan, to man, is a manifest enemy. (Surah Yusuf 12:5)
The devil is clear open enemy to us. He has, from day one, made his intentions clear. The devil's plan is not a secret-- the jealousy, assumption, animosity, lust, greed arrogance, forgetfulness, pride-- is made known in the Quran by Allah.
Today the devil's game is jealousy, but tomorrow, might be lust, after that it might be greed, after that it might be arrogance, after it might be forgetfulness. He will use different kind of games. Whether he comes at you from the right, left, center, top, bottom, it doesn't matter.The devil is the real enemy.
It is the devil you should developed hatred for, not humans--like your parents, siblings, children, spouse..
So long as the human being is breathing, there is hope that they can recognize the plot of the devil, shun the devil and turn back to Allah.They still have that opportunity.
So if you hate people, it is as if you condemn them when you should have condemned the devil.
No family is immuned from complications. Allah will not give you and me a normal family. There will be somebody who struggle. That's just how He made us. Allah decided you are going to be around certain people in your life, and they are going to be your trial and you are going to be theirs. You are tied to them for life--your family.
So, we have to let go of the idea of some kind of a life that none of the people in our lives is going to be a source of difficulty. And we also have to let go of the idea that people who are a source of our difficulty are somehow the devil. They are not. They may have failed to recognize the devil's animosity towards them. All we can say they failed to recognize that the devil was able to use them successfully. When they are not able to let go of their pride, ill-conceived notion...then they are struggling with the shaytan animosity towards the children of Adam.
Who better than a prophet (prophet Ya'qub) to know that his children has a shaytan problem, yet he is helpless. Because every human being has to take his own steps. You and me coming from a good family doesn't ensure that we are free from the shaytan's trap.
And Allah knows best.
وَقَالُوا۟ لَوْ كُنَّا نَسْمَعُ أَوْ نَعْقِلُ مَا كُنَّا فِىٓ أَصْحَٰبِ ٱلسَّعِيرِ
“If only we had been listening or thinking, we would not be among the people of the Blaze” (Al-Mulk 67:10)
This ayah is teaching us something very simple but very important: it’s not enough to just hear the truth—you have to be willing to accept it.
This ayah is not about people who never had a chance to learn. It’s about people who did hear the message, but didn’t really listen or think about it. They had the opportunity, but they didn’t use it.
Listening here means more than just hearing words. It means being open—letting the message reach your heart. And thinking means taking a moment to reflect: “Is this true? What should I do about it?” When a person stops doing both—listening and thinking—they block their own path to guidance.
We see this in everyday life. Some people don’t reject the truth after understanding it—they avoid it completely. They don’t want to hear reminders, they change the subject, or even turn off the Qur’an. Over time, this becomes a habit. Their heart slowly gets used to staying away from anything that might bring them closer to Allah. What starts as discomfort can turn into resistance, and then into not caring at all.
But we also need to be understanding. It’s not always just stubbornness. Sometimes people avoid listening because:
Yes, Shayṭan tries to pull people away, but many of these struggles are very human. That’s why we need to approach others with kindness, not harshness.
So what is our role when we see this happening?
It’s not our job to force people to listen. We can’t control hearts. Our job is simply to open the door, not push them through it.
That can be something small, like:
Sometimes a small effort works better than a long talk.
Also, when someone feels uncomfortable hearing the Qur’an, it doesn’t always mean their heart is dead. Sometimes it means something inside them is reacting. There is still something there. A completely closed heart wouldn’t feel anything at all.
The ayah also shows that becoming among the people of the Blaze doesn’t happen suddenly. It happens little by little—when someone keeps choosing not to listen or think. But the opposite is also true. A person who starts listening, even a little, can slowly come closer to Allah.
And there is always hope. The one who turns away today might be the one who listens tomorrow. The person who once said, “Turn it off,” might one day find peace in it.
In the end, this verse is reminding all of us:
Because guidance might already be there—we just have to let it in.
When you read the Qur’an…you are sitting with the Best Teacher
There is something profoundly humbling about opening the Qur’an. In that quiet moment—before the recitation begins, before the tongue forms the letters—we often forget what is truly happening. We are not simply reading a book. We are sitting with the Best Teacher.
Allah tells us in Surah Ar-Rahman:
الرَّحْمَٰنُ
عَلَّمَ الْقُرْآنَ
Ar-Raḥman. ʿAllama al-Qur’ān.
“The Most Merciful taught the Qur’an.” (55:1–2)
The first Name mentioned is not Al-‘Alīm (The All-Knowing), nor Al-Ḥakīm (The Most Wise), but Ar-Rahman — The Most Merciful. And the first act described is that He taught the Qur’an. Teaching the Qur’an is presented as an act of divine mercy.
This changes everything.
When you read the Qur’an, you are not engaging in a routine ritual. You are being taught by the Most Merciful. Each ayah is guidance delivered with compassion. Each command is rooted in wisdom. Each story is a lesson shaped for human hearts. The Qur’an is not distant speech; it is direct instruction from Allah to His creation.
And when you teach the Qur’an, the honor deepens. You are not merely teaching pronunciation, tajwīd rules, or memorization techniques. You are participating in a divine legacy of mercy. You are helping hearts connect to their Creator. You are facilitating a relationship between a servant and their Lord.
To teach the Qur’an is to carry a trust. To read it is to receive a gift.
Every time we open the Muṣḥaf, we should pause and remember: this is not ordinary learning. This is sacred instruction. This is mercy unfolding in words.
You are not just reading.
You are being taught by Ar-Rahman.
There is something profoundly comforting about knowing that our acts of worship are not silent. They are not forgotten. They do not disappear into the past. They wait for us.
The Prophet ﷺ taught that fasting and the Qur’an will intercede for the believer on the Day of Resurrection. Fasting will say: “My Lord, I prevented him from food and desires during the day, so allow me to intercede for him.” And the Qur’an will say: “I prevented him from sleep at night, so allow me to intercede for him.” And both will be granted permission to intercede.
Imagine that moment.
On a Day when every soul will be concerned only with itself, when excuses will fall away and reality will be exposed, your hunger will speak. Your thirst will testify. The quiet nights you stood reciting, even when your eyes were heavy, will not be forgotten. The effort you made to pronounce a verse correctly, the tears you wiped away in sujūd, the battles you fought against your own ego while fasting — all of it will have a voice.
Fasting is more than abstaining from food. It is training the soul to say no. No to anger. No to temptation. No to impulses that pull us away from Allah. Every time you resisted, you strengthened something inside you that only Allah fully sees. On the Day of Judgment, that hidden discipline will stand as your defender.
The Qur’an is more than pages recited. It is companionship. It shapes how you think, how you speak, how you respond to hardship. When you chose to open it instead of scrolling. When you reviewed a verse instead of sleeping a little longer. When you taught it to your children or tried to live by its commands — you were building a relationship. And on that Day, that relationship will speak.
The beauty of this promise is that it transforms ordinary struggle into eternal reward. The thirst of a long summer fast. The difficulty of waking before dawn. The challenge of consistency in recitation. None of it is wasted. Allah turns your private sacrifices into public honor.
We often worry about who will defend us on that Day. The answer may already be in our hands — in the fast we observe sincerely and the Qur’an we carry in our hearts.
So fast with intention. Recite with presence. Live with sincerity.
Because one day, your worship will speak — and it will speak for you.
