By Jayson Ishaq Ang

The evening dhikr had just begun when I noticed the young boy sitting in front of me, his eyes darting left and right, searching for his prayer beads (tasbeeh). It was unusual for me to carry an extra tasbeeh that day – normally one suffices. Yet somehow, during this retreat, I had unconsciously brought two. As I handed him my spare tasbeeh, I realized perhaps this wasn’t mere coincidence – Allah swt had prepared this pure moment to teach me something extraordinary. Little did I know, in the moments that followed, this child would become my “teacher”, showing me what it truly means to connect with our Creator with a pure heart.

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A small boy, barely six years old, sitting in a gathering of Dhikr in front of me. While others chant the remembrance of Allah swt, something extraordinary happens. A droplet of gentle tear begin streaming down his innocent face – not tears of hurt, not tears of want, but tears of pure spiritual connection. What I witnessed that day didn’t just touch my heart; it completely transformed my understanding of true connection with Allah swt.

IN OUR BUSY LIVES, WE OFTEN PRIDE OURSELVES ON OUR EMOTIONAL RESTRAINT, OUR ABILITY TO MAINTAIN COMPOSURE. BUT THAT DAY, A YOUNG BOY TAUGHT ME WHAT I’VE BEEN MISSING …

A spiritual gathering, adults focused on their prayers, our minds perhaps dwelling on their daily concerns at the same time. And then there was this boy – tears streaming down his face, his heart completely open to the experience. No pretense, no social constraints, just pure, raw connection with Allah swt.

You see, we’ve forgotten something fundamental about faith. Something this child reminded me of in the most powerful way. While we adults often approach our spiritual lives with calculated precision, children approach it with their entire being.

Think about it – when was the last time you allowed yourself to feel that connection deeply? When did you last let your guard down completely in the presence of Allah swt? This boy’s tears weren’t just water rolling down his cheeks; they were a mirror reflecting what we’ve lost in our journey to adulthood.

But here’s the beautiful truth that I was reminded of : that pure, untainted connection isn’t lost forever. It’s still there, buried beneath layers of adult responsibilities and social conditioning. This child showed me that our capacity for genuine spiritual connection doesn’t diminish with age – we just need to rediscover it.

In that powerful moment, as his innocent tears flowed during the Dhikr, I felt the walls of my “adult understanding” shatter. In our rush to teach children about faith, we’ve overlooked how much they can teach us. Their hearts, unscarred by cynicism, unchanged by life’s hardships, show us what true spiritual connection looks like.

This isn’t just about emotions – it’s about rediscovering the essence of Islam itself. It’s about understanding that our relationship with Allah doesn’t need to be complicated. Sometimes, it’s as simple as our inner child’s tears.

The question isn’t whether we can return to that state of purity – it’s whether we’re brave enough to try. Are we willing to let go of our practiced restraint and allow ourselves to feel deeply again? Are we ready to learn from those who haven’t yet learned to hide their hearts?

Every day, we have a choice. We can continue on our well-worn path of measured devotion and tarbiyah (training), or we can strive to recapture that childlike sincerity that this boy demonstrated so beautifully. The path to spiritual growth might not be forward at all – it might be backward with much mujahadah (struggle), toward the purity we once knew.

What will you choose? Will you continue to observe your faith through the lens of adulthood, or will you dare to experience it through the pure heart of a child?

The lesson is clear. Sometimes, the youngest among us can be our greatest teachers – if only we have the wisdom to learn from them.

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