My hands trembled the day I walked into the masjid to speak with our teacher. I was fifteen, the son of a cloth seller, and I had just made the worst mistake of my life. I owed silver coins I couldn’t repay.
You won’t find my name in any hadith, but I lived in Medina during the time of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ — the final messenger of Allah and the one who taught us how to live with honor and faith. I had taken a loan from an old merchant named Rafi' to buy fabrics for my father's shop while he was ill. Business had been slow, and now the debt hung over me like a dark cloud.
I thought I was doing the right thing by helping my family. But I had forgotten something important — responsibility.
I entered the masjid, heart pounding, and saw our teacher speaking quietly to a group of men. When they left, I stood before him and confessed everything.
He looked at me — calm, yet serious — and listened without interrupting. When I finished, he said only this: “Debt is not something light, my son. Even the best of men feared dying with unpaid loans.”
I had heard the words before in the gathering spot after salah — the prayer. One companion once said the Prophet ﷺ would even ask about a man’s debts before leading his funeral prayer. If debt remained unpaid, he would sometimes hold back. At the time, I hadn’t understood why.
But now, as I stood there ashamed, it made sense. A debt was more than money. It was a trust. A promise. Breaking that meant breaking your duty before Allah.
The Prophet ﷺ didn’t shout at me or make me feel small. Instead, he called for Rafi’ and asked him gently about the loan. Rafi' was surprised and said he didn’t want to harm a family in hardship. He agreed to forgive part of the debt and let me repay the rest in small amounts over time.
That day, I learned two things. First, debt is not just a matter between two people — it is between you, the lender, and Allah. Second, true mercy is when someone helps you stand up without crushing your dignity.
I spent many months repaying that debt, coin by coin. Every time I handed Rafi’ the payment, I felt a bit more free, not just in wealth, but in spirit.
Now, years later, whenever someone comes to me for help, I remember that day in the masjid. I remember the mercy that was shown to me. And I never forget the Prophet’s ﷺ warning — that a man with unpaid debt stands held back even after death, unless the due is settled or forgiven.
To carry a debt and not treat it seriously is to carry a heavy chain — one that doesn’t disappear with the grave.
And so, I teach my children: borrow only what you are sure to repay, and treat every dirham as a promise made before Allah.
Story note: Inspired by the hadith traditions found in Sahih al-Bukhari 2289 and Sahih Muslim 1885, which warn about the seriousness of unpaid debts and how the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ emphasized responsibility in financial matters.
My hands trembled the day I walked into the masjid to speak with our teacher. I was fifteen, the son of a cloth seller, and I had just made the worst mistake of my life. I owed silver coins I couldn’t repay.
You won’t find my name in any hadith, but I lived in Medina during the time of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ — the final messenger of Allah and the one who taught us how to live with honor and faith. I had taken a loan from an old merchant named Rafi' to buy fabrics for my father's shop while he was ill. Business had been slow, and now the debt hung over me like a dark cloud.
I thought I was doing the right thing by helping my family. But I had forgotten something important — responsibility.
I entered the masjid, heart pounding, and saw our teacher speaking quietly to a group of men. When they left, I stood before him and confessed everything.
He looked at me — calm, yet serious — and listened without interrupting. When I finished, he said only this: “Debt is not something light, my son. Even the best of men feared dying with unpaid loans.”
I had heard the words before in the gathering spot after salah — the prayer. One companion once said the Prophet ﷺ would even ask about a man’s debts before leading his funeral prayer. If debt remained unpaid, he would sometimes hold back. At the time, I hadn’t understood why.
But now, as I stood there ashamed, it made sense. A debt was more than money. It was a trust. A promise. Breaking that meant breaking your duty before Allah.
The Prophet ﷺ didn’t shout at me or make me feel small. Instead, he called for Rafi’ and asked him gently about the loan. Rafi' was surprised and said he didn’t want to harm a family in hardship. He agreed to forgive part of the debt and let me repay the rest in small amounts over time.
That day, I learned two things. First, debt is not just a matter between two people — it is between you, the lender, and Allah. Second, true mercy is when someone helps you stand up without crushing your dignity.
I spent many months repaying that debt, coin by coin. Every time I handed Rafi’ the payment, I felt a bit more free, not just in wealth, but in spirit.
Now, years later, whenever someone comes to me for help, I remember that day in the masjid. I remember the mercy that was shown to me. And I never forget the Prophet’s ﷺ warning — that a man with unpaid debt stands held back even after death, unless the due is settled or forgiven.
To carry a debt and not treat it seriously is to carry a heavy chain — one that doesn’t disappear with the grave.
And so, I teach my children: borrow only what you are sure to repay, and treat every dirham as a promise made before Allah.
Story note: Inspired by the hadith traditions found in Sahih al-Bukhari 2289 and Sahih Muslim 1885, which warn about the seriousness of unpaid debts and how the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ emphasized responsibility in financial matters.
