They say you never forget the first time your heart truly wakes up. Mine did the day I sat beneath the shade of the masjid courtyard, watching the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ speak to us—just us youth.
You wouldn’t know my name from any hadith books. I was eighteen then, just another young man in Medina. I knew how to aim a spear and recite a few surahs (chapters) of the Qur’an, but my heart wasn’t steady yet. I loved the Prophet ﷺ, but part of me worried: Could I really live up to the path he was calling us to?
That day, he looked right at the young men gathered with him and said something that changed me. He said, “O young people, whoever among you can afford to get married, let him marry, for it helps one lower his gaze and guard his private parts. And whoever is not able to, then he should fast, for it will be a shield for him.” (Hadith from Tirmidhi 2677)
At first, I didn’t understand why fasting was mentioned in the same sentence as marriage. I thought, “Marriage helps with temptation—yes, that made sense. But fasting?” That was something we did in Ramadan, not as a way to battle our desires.
Days passed. I kept thinking about the Prophet’s ﷺ advice. I couldn’t marry yet. I had no wealth, no home of my own. But I had a heart that wanted to please Allah. So I decided, little by little, to begin fasting.
At first, it wasn’t easy. Hunger made me restless during the day. Thirst dried my tongue each afternoon. But then, something started to shift. The temptation in my eyes—how quick they used to wander—faded. My thoughts became clearer. My duas (prayers to Allah) felt stronger. Fasting wasn’t just a shield against food; it became a shield against my nafs—my lower self.
One day, I was walking through the market when I saw a group of young men laughing and huddled around something. Curiosity pulled me closer. They were mocking a poor merchant woman, teasing her, trying to get her attention in a shameful way.
Before, I might’ve looked away and kept walking.
But that day, my feet moved forward, and I said boldly, “Fear Allah! Would you want someone to treat your sister like this?”
They stared at me, shocked. One of them muttered, “We were just joking.” But they left her alone.
I realized then: the Prophet ﷺ cared for our souls too much to let our years of youth slip away in disobedience. His advice wasn’t hard—it was healing. He didn’t shame us. He gave us tools: marriage, fasting, and remembrance of Allah. A path of light through the fires of desire.
Now, whenever I see a younger brother in the masjid struggling with the same restlessness I once had, I sit beside him and say, “There’s a shield, brother. You can carry it too.”
And I remember the Prophet’s ﷺ gentle words.
He saw us not just as who we were, but who we could become—with Allah’s help.
—
Story Note: Inspired by the hadith reported in Tirmidhi (2677) where the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ gives advice to young people about guarding their chastity and using fasting as a shield.
They say you never forget the first time your heart truly wakes up. Mine did the day I sat beneath the shade of the masjid courtyard, watching the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ speak to us—just us youth.
You wouldn’t know my name from any hadith books. I was eighteen then, just another young man in Medina. I knew how to aim a spear and recite a few surahs (chapters) of the Qur’an, but my heart wasn’t steady yet. I loved the Prophet ﷺ, but part of me worried: Could I really live up to the path he was calling us to?
That day, he looked right at the young men gathered with him and said something that changed me. He said, “O young people, whoever among you can afford to get married, let him marry, for it helps one lower his gaze and guard his private parts. And whoever is not able to, then he should fast, for it will be a shield for him.” (Hadith from Tirmidhi 2677)
At first, I didn’t understand why fasting was mentioned in the same sentence as marriage. I thought, “Marriage helps with temptation—yes, that made sense. But fasting?” That was something we did in Ramadan, not as a way to battle our desires.
Days passed. I kept thinking about the Prophet’s ﷺ advice. I couldn’t marry yet. I had no wealth, no home of my own. But I had a heart that wanted to please Allah. So I decided, little by little, to begin fasting.
At first, it wasn’t easy. Hunger made me restless during the day. Thirst dried my tongue each afternoon. But then, something started to shift. The temptation in my eyes—how quick they used to wander—faded. My thoughts became clearer. My duas (prayers to Allah) felt stronger. Fasting wasn’t just a shield against food; it became a shield against my nafs—my lower self.
One day, I was walking through the market when I saw a group of young men laughing and huddled around something. Curiosity pulled me closer. They were mocking a poor merchant woman, teasing her, trying to get her attention in a shameful way.
Before, I might’ve looked away and kept walking.
But that day, my feet moved forward, and I said boldly, “Fear Allah! Would you want someone to treat your sister like this?”
They stared at me, shocked. One of them muttered, “We were just joking.” But they left her alone.
I realized then: the Prophet ﷺ cared for our souls too much to let our years of youth slip away in disobedience. His advice wasn’t hard—it was healing. He didn’t shame us. He gave us tools: marriage, fasting, and remembrance of Allah. A path of light through the fires of desire.
Now, whenever I see a younger brother in the masjid struggling with the same restlessness I once had, I sit beside him and say, “There’s a shield, brother. You can carry it too.”
And I remember the Prophet’s ﷺ gentle words.
He saw us not just as who we were, but who we could become—with Allah’s help.
—
Story Note: Inspired by the hadith reported in Tirmidhi (2677) where the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ gives advice to young people about guarding their chastity and using fasting as a shield.
