I still remember the first time I heard Abdullah ibn Mas’ud recite the Qur’an. I was only a boy, no older than twelve, and I had followed my older brother to the masjid one evening, hoping to catch a glimpse of the people close to the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ. You won’t find my name in any book, but I was there, sitting near the back, my knees drawn to my chest, trying not to fall asleep.
The room was quiet—so quiet it made my heartbeat seem loud. Then, he began to recite.
Abdullah ibn Mas’ud was a companion of the Prophet ﷺ. People said he was short, thin, and once a shepherd. But when he recited the Qur’an—the holy book revealed to the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ—his voice carried the weight of a mountain and the softness of mercy all at once.
That night, his voice slid through the verses of Surah ar-Rahman—“The Most Merciful”—like light through leaves. His tone rose ever so slightly as he said:
“Which of the favors of your Lord will you deny?”
Every time that verse returned, it felt like it was speaking just to me.
My heart trembled. I didn’t understand everything he recited, but I knew it was truth. Not the kind of truth adults argue about. This truth was gentle and powerful, like the way a mother holds her baby or how thunder reminds you Who controls the sky.
Later, my brother told me something that never left me.
“The Prophet ﷺ once asked Ibn Mas’ud to recite the Qur’an to him,” he whispered. “Can you believe that? The Messenger of Allah ﷺ—the one who received the Qur’an—he wanted to hear it from Ibn Mas’ud.”
I blinked in surprise. “But… wasn’t the Prophet ﷺ the one who it was revealed to?”
“Yes,” my brother said, nodding. “But he said, ‘I love to hear it from others.’ And when Ibn Mas’ud recited, tears filled the Prophet’s ﷺ eyes.”
That story changed the way I saw everything.
I looked again at Ibn Mas’ud—just a man, someone small and simple, but still chosen to move the heart of the Prophet ﷺ. It wasn’t about how he looked. It was because he had memorized the Qur’an, lived by it, and let it live in his voice. And that voice—Allah had made it a rope pulling others closer to Him.
After that night, I begged my teacher to help me memorize more verses. I practiced until my throat ached and my eyes blurred with tears. I wasn’t trying to be like the great scholars or famous warriors. I just wanted to be like the man whose recitation made the Prophet ﷺ weep.
Years have passed. Now, when I recite the Qur’an in prayer, I try to remember that night. I picture Ibn Mas’ud standing, voice steady, heart soft, reciting words that can soften rocks.
Because even if you are small, and even if the world forgets your name—it doesn’t matter.
If the Qur’an lives in you, Allah can make your voice carry His words across hearts and generations.
Story note: Inspired by authentic narrations found in Sahih al-Bukhari (#5000) describing how the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ asked Abdullah ibn Mas’ud to recite the Qur’an aloud, and wept when he heard it.
I still remember the first time I heard Abdullah ibn Mas’ud recite the Qur’an. I was only a boy, no older than twelve, and I had followed my older brother to the masjid one evening, hoping to catch a glimpse of the people close to the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ. You won’t find my name in any book, but I was there, sitting near the back, my knees drawn to my chest, trying not to fall asleep.
The room was quiet—so quiet it made my heartbeat seem loud. Then, he began to recite.
Abdullah ibn Mas’ud was a companion of the Prophet ﷺ. People said he was short, thin, and once a shepherd. But when he recited the Qur’an—the holy book revealed to the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ—his voice carried the weight of a mountain and the softness of mercy all at once.
That night, his voice slid through the verses of Surah ar-Rahman—“The Most Merciful”—like light through leaves. His tone rose ever so slightly as he said:
“Which of the favors of your Lord will you deny?”
Every time that verse returned, it felt like it was speaking just to me.
My heart trembled. I didn’t understand everything he recited, but I knew it was truth. Not the kind of truth adults argue about. This truth was gentle and powerful, like the way a mother holds her baby or how thunder reminds you Who controls the sky.
Later, my brother told me something that never left me.
“The Prophet ﷺ once asked Ibn Mas’ud to recite the Qur’an to him,” he whispered. “Can you believe that? The Messenger of Allah ﷺ—the one who received the Qur’an—he wanted to hear it from Ibn Mas’ud.”
I blinked in surprise. “But… wasn’t the Prophet ﷺ the one who it was revealed to?”
“Yes,” my brother said, nodding. “But he said, ‘I love to hear it from others.’ And when Ibn Mas’ud recited, tears filled the Prophet’s ﷺ eyes.”
That story changed the way I saw everything.
I looked again at Ibn Mas’ud—just a man, someone small and simple, but still chosen to move the heart of the Prophet ﷺ. It wasn’t about how he looked. It was because he had memorized the Qur’an, lived by it, and let it live in his voice. And that voice—Allah had made it a rope pulling others closer to Him.
After that night, I begged my teacher to help me memorize more verses. I practiced until my throat ached and my eyes blurred with tears. I wasn’t trying to be like the great scholars or famous warriors. I just wanted to be like the man whose recitation made the Prophet ﷺ weep.
Years have passed. Now, when I recite the Qur’an in prayer, I try to remember that night. I picture Ibn Mas’ud standing, voice steady, heart soft, reciting words that can soften rocks.
Because even if you are small, and even if the world forgets your name—it doesn’t matter.
If the Qur’an lives in you, Allah can make your voice carry His words across hearts and generations.
Story note: Inspired by authentic narrations found in Sahih al-Bukhari (#5000) describing how the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ asked Abdullah ibn Mas’ud to recite the Qur’an aloud, and wept when he heard it.
