Do You Really Know Your Child?

As a teenager, I spent time around a lot of friends who were passionate about the Deen. We would pray whenever we were together, argue and debate about different religious issues, attend lectures and talk about what was happening in the Ummah. Many of them were incredibly intelligent, charismatic and talented. They had an ocean of potential to offer.

More than a decade later, many of those same people have gone on to become very successful. They have great careers, successful businesses and young families of their own. They pray and fast, attend the masjid and, I’m sure, are trying to raise their own children with taqwa. But something I often think about is how much potential existed in that group of young people that was never really identified, nurtured and directed towards serving the Deen.

I don’t think the problem was that they didn’t care about Islam. Many cared deeply. The problem was that very few people ever helped them answer a more important question: What can you specifically contribute?

We often approach service to the Deen with the assumption that it requires a particular personality, qualification or level of religious knowledge. The serious work belongs to the imam, the scholar, the da’ee or the community leader, while the role of the average Muslim is largely to consume: pray at the masjid, attend the lectures, learn some Qur’an, donate to good causes and support the people doing the work.

We see how this attitude is taught in our youth programs: our young, bright, passionate young men are brought into the masjid for reminders, often on purely spiritual topics, a bit of sport, some pizza after the event, and repeat next week. These events are great at what they do, but they rarely go any further – towards building contributors, not consumers.

The tragedy is that this is almost the complete opposite of the methodology of the Messenger of Allah ﷺ. If we study the Seerah carefully, a remarkable pattern emerges. The Prophet ﷺ did not merely teach young people. He developed them. He discovered their gifts. He nurtured their character. He challenged them. He entrusted them with meaningful responsibility.

And in doing so, he raised a generation that changed the course of history. Young men barely in their twenties governed cities. Teenagers carried the Qur’an to entire communities. Young companions led armies, taught nations, preserved revelation and carried the da’wah across half the world.

These were not extraordinary exceptions. They were the natural outcome of a deliberate methodology. The Prophet ﷺ did not wait for young people to become leaders before trusting them. He trusted them, nurtured them and, by the permission of Allah, raised them into leaders.

What’s Your Role?

We’ve all heard the hadith – especially in the last few years – in which the Prophet ﷺ tells us that our Ummah is like one body. We hear it, of course, in reminders that urge us to care for our oppressed brothers and sisters, and feel their pain.

I remember hearing one comment on this hadith that stuck with me – the Prophet ﷺ likened the Ummah to a physical human body – and the body is made up of many complementary parts. A heart, two lungs, two kidneys, a stomach, a brain… each serving a unique function. As important as your brain is, it cannot do the job of the kidneys. The heart cannot do the job of the stomach.

The Ummah is also made up of people with different abilities, personalities and roles. The Sahabah themselves were not identical, nor were they all Abu Bakr and Umar RA. Some became authorities in the Qur’an, others in hadith or fiqh. Some were commanders. Some were diplomats. Some had wealth and spent it generously. Hassan bin Thabit RA used poetry in defence of Islam. Khalid bin al-Walid RA had extraordinary military ability. Different people had different gifts, and those gifts could be directed towards a common purpose. Everyone played their role.

One of the things that stands out when we study the Prophet ﷺ is how well he seemed to recognise the people around him. He did not simply look at what someone was doing at that moment. He could see what they might become. He recognised strengths, developed them, directed them towards the service of Allah, and then gave people real opportunities to use them.

For parents, that raises a very important question: Do we really know our children?

We know what foods they like. We know which subjects they do well in at school. We know whether they’re shy or outgoing, whether they like sports or books, whether they can sit quietly for hours or seem physically incapable of remaining still for more than thirty seconds. But do we know what Allah has placed inside them? What comes naturally to them? What makes them come alive? What qualities are beginning to emerge that, if nurtured properly for the next ten or twenty years, could become something remarkable?

And perhaps most importantly: how could those gifts one day be used to serve Allah?

From Mocking the Adhan to Calling It

One of the most beautiful examples is that of Abu Mahdhurah (RA) – a sahabi most of us have never heard of before!

After the Conquest of Makkah, the Prophet ﷺ gathered the largest army the Muslims had ever gathered – over 12,000 fighters – and marched towards Hunayn for one final battle that would see the Muslims control all of Arabia. On their way to Hunayn, the army stopped for a rest, set up camp, and prepared to pray dhuhr. Bilal (RA) calls the adhan… and in the distance, the Sahabah hear a young voice initiating Bilal, and mocking the call to prayer. The Prophet ﷺ sent Ali RA and Az-Zubayr RA – two of the fiercest warriors among the Muslims – to find who was mocking the adhan, and bring them to him. The pair set out, and find 3 boys – 15 years old – tending to their sheep just beyond the camp of the Muslims, and bring them back to the Messenger ﷺ.

Can you imagine the fear these boys would have had?! Standing before the Messenger ﷺ – the commander of the large army that stood before them – and being accounted for their actions! They stood silently, until the Prophet ﷺ commanded them to repeat the words of the adhan. The first boy complied, but his voice did not match that which was heard earlier, and he was allowed to run away. The second followed, and his voice too did not match, so he left as well. The third – Abu Mahdhurah – remained, deserted by his friends, confronted with the reality of his actions and their repercussions. The Prophet ﷺ recognised his voice as that which he had heard earlier, and Abu Mahdhurah admitted to his actions.

What did the Prophet ﷺ do? With Abu Mahdhurah trembling before him, he stretched out his hand, took off his turban, and supplicated for Abu Mahdhurah, saying: “O Allah, bless him and guide him to Islam.” He then stroked his head with his hand and made the same supplication for him a second time. This mercy shown by the Prophet ﷺ made such a great impact on Abu Mahdhurah RA that it made him enter the fold of Islam.

But the important lesson for us is what follows. The Prophet ﷺ told Abu Mahdhurah that his voice was extremely beautiful, and that with Makkah newly conquered, there was a need for someone to become the muadhin in Makkah. The Messenger ﷺ told Abu Mahdhurah (RA) that he was the best person for the job, and said to him: “Go and make the call to prayer to the people of Makkah; you are now the muadhin of the people of Makkah.” Abu Mahdhurah states: “The Messenger of Allah ﷺ himself taught me the Adhan.”

Can you imagine that? One moment, Abu Mahdhurah (RA) thought he might be punished for mocking the Muslims – the next he was taught by the Messenger ﷺ and appointed as muadhin at the Kaabah, the holiest site in Islam! 

The Prophet ﷺ could have looked at Abu Mahdhurah and seen only disrespect, immaturity and bad behaviour. Instead – without excusing the behaviour – he saw beyond it. There was a gift there, and that gift needed direction. Instead of simply asking, “How should this boy be punished?”, the Prophetic response effectively asks another question: “What could this boy become?”

Children often reveal their strengths in imperfect ways.

Think about the child who never stops talking. At home, everyone complains, “You talk too much.” And perhaps they do. They need to learn when to speak, when to listen and how to control themselves. But what else might be hiding underneath all that talking? Confidence? Communication skills? Storytelling? An ability to connect with people or hold their attention? What could those qualities become in twenty years if they were properly nurtured?

Or think about the child who argues about absolutely everything. “Why?” “But that doesn’t make sense.” “But yesterday you said…” It can be exhausting. They need to learn adab, humility and when an argument needs to end. But perhaps underneath that stubbornness is an analytical mind, an ability to identify inconsistencies, or the courage to challenge ideas rather than simply accept them.

The child who dismantles everything in the house might be driving you insane, but perhaps they desperately want to understand how things work. The painfully shy child may be extraordinarily observant. The child who is constantly organising everyone else may have natural leadership ability. The one who seems overly sensitive may have an unusual degree of empathy and awareness of other people’s emotions.

This does not mean we romanticise every weakness or stop correcting bad behaviour. Tarbiyah still requires discipline. The point is that when we see a problem, we should learn to ask a second question alongside simply “How do I correct this?”

Is there a strength underneath this that I need to recognise?

Abu Mahdhurah’s story is so powerful because a moment of foolishness did not become his identity. The Prophet ﷺ saw what else was there, and then gave that potential somewhere useful to go.

Talent Needs More Than Praise

Zayd bin Thabit (RA) was only 11 years old when the Prophet ﷺ migrated to Madinah. Zayd’s male relatives took him to the Messenger ﷺ and said, “O Prophet of Allah, ﷺ this child of ours knows by heart 17 chapters from the Quran, and recites them accurately as they were revealed to you. Besides, he is well versed in the matters of reading and writing. He wishes to be close to you. Listen to him, if you will.”

The Prophet ﷺ then tested Zayd, asking him to recite some of the Quran, before rewarding him and praising him. Zayd would go on to become one of the scribes of the Prophet ﷺ, recording the ayat that were revealed.

The Prophet ﷺ also recognised that Zayd had a talent in languages. The Messenger ﷺ needed to write letters to the Jewish tribes; so he tasked Zayd with learning languages. Zayd says he learnt the  language of the Jews in half a month, after which he took care of all the correspondence between the Prophet ﷺ and the Jewish tribes.

Look at the process here – Zayd had an ability, which was first recognised by his relatives, who encouraged it and directed him towards someone who could make use of that talent. The Prophet ﷺ also recognised it, but then he challenged it. He gave this young man something difficult to learn, and importantly, something the Ummah actually needed. He did not simply tell him, “MashaAllah, you’re a very clever young man.” He gave his intelligence a purpose.

Then, once Zayd had developed the skill, he trusted him to use it.

Sometimes we’re actually quite good at identifying our children’s strengths. “MashaAllah, she’s so smart.” “He’s amazing at maths.” “She’s such a good writer.” “He’s so confident with people.”

But then what?

A talent that is merely praised may remain a talent. A talent that is recognised, nurtured, challenged and given purpose can become something far greater.

Zayd would eventually become one of the scribes who recorded the revelation received by the Messenger of Allah ﷺ. Years later, after the death of the Prophet ﷺ and the Battle of Yamamah, many of those who had memorised the Qur’an were killed. Umar RA became concerned that more of the Qurra’ might die in future battles and urged Abu Bakr RA to gather the Qur’an into a compiled collection.

Who was entrusted with this enormous responsibility? Zayd bin Thabit.

He initially found the responsibility overwhelming. He said:

فَوَاللَّهِ لَوْ كَلَّفُونِي نَقْلَ جَبَلٍ مِنَ الْجِبَالِ مَا كَانَ أَثْقَلَ عَلَيَّ مِمَّا أَمَرَنِي بِهِ مِنْ جَمْعِ الْقُرْآنِ
“By Allah, if they had ordered me to move one of the mountains, it would not have been heavier upon me than what they commanded me to do of collecting the Qur’an.”
Sahih al-Bukhari, 4986

But Abu Bakr explained exactly why Zayd had been chosen:

إِنَّكَ رَجُلٌ شَابٌّ عَاقِلٌ لَا نَتَّهِمُكَ، وَقَدْ كُنْتَ تَكْتُبُ الْوَحْيَ لِرَسُولِ اللَّهِ ﷺ
“You are a young, intelligent man whom we do not suspect, and you used to write the revelation for the Messenger of Allah ﷺ.”
Sahih al-Bukhari, 4986

Zayd did not wake up one morning as one of the great authorities of the Qur’an. There had been years of development before that moment. His abilities had been recognised when he was young. He had been challenged to learn. He had been brought close to the Messenger ﷺ. He had been entrusted with real work as a scribe of revelation. Each responsibility prepared him for the next.

Eventually, the young boy whose abilities had been recognised and nurtured became the man the Ummah trusted with one of the greatest responsibilities in Islamic history.

Someone had recognised him. Someone had nurtured him. Someone had challenged him. Someone had trusted him.

And that is how potential becomes contribution.

So, Do You Really Know Your Child?

So often, I hear parents describe their children with permanent labels, as if they’ve already decided who their child is:

“He’s the naughty one.” “She’s shy.” “He’s lazy.” “She’s too emotional.” “He’s stubborn.” “She has no confidence.” “He doesn’t like speaking to new people.”

We say these things casually, sometimes jokingly, but labels have a way of shaping how we see people. Once we decide a child is “the difficult one”, we start interpreting everything they do through that lens.

But children are unfinished people. The five-year-old standing in front of you is not the finished product. Neither is the ten-year-old, or the fifteen-year-old. Part of tarbiyah is learning to look at a child not only for who they are today, but for who they could become tomorrow – and that requires us to pay attention.

What does my child naturally gravitate towards? What do they learn unusually quickly? What kind of problems do they enjoy solving? What injustices genuinely bother them? What topics suddenly make them come alive? When do they seem most confident? How do they respond when someone else is struggling? What do their teachers, grandparents, coaches or other adults notice in them that perhaps I have missed?

Sometimes we are so busy managing our children that we forget to study them.  Purposeful tarbiyah requires us to become students of our own children.

Recognise. Nurture. Direct. Trust.

Looking at examples like Abu Mahdhurah and Zayd bin Thabit رضي الله عنهما, I think there is a simple framework we can take away: Recognise. Nurture. Direct. Trust.

First, recognise. Pay attention before deciding what you want your child to be good at. Try to discover what Allah has already placed within them. Sometimes you will notice it yourself. Sometimes a teacher, grandparent, coach, imam or family friend will see something that you have missed. And sometimes, as with Abu Mahdhurah, the gift may first reveal itself in a completely unexpected way.

Then, nurture. Potential by itself means very little. Give your children opportunities to develop. Find them good teachers. Buy them the books. Take them places. Let them practise. Expose them to people who are excellent at what they love. Challenge them beyond what is comfortable. Zayd had an extraordinary ability to learn, but that ability grew because he was given challenges worthy of it.

Then, direct. This is perhaps where purposeful tarbiyah differs most from simply trying to raise a successful child. Don’t only ask, “How can this talent help my child build a good career?” Ask, “How could this gift be used for Allah?”

If your child can write, what could they one day write for the Deen? If they understand technology, what problems could they solve for the Ummah? If they are persuasive, how could they speak for truth? If they love medicine, law, business, science, design, education or politics, how could that expertise become a means of serving Allah and benefiting people? Their profession and their service to Islam do not have to exist in separate worlds.

Finally, trust. At some point, children and young people need something real to carry. Let them organise something. Teach something. Lead something. Solve something. Make a decision. Take responsibility for an outcome that genuinely matters. There comes a point where saying “I believe in you” is not nearly as powerful as demonstrating “I trust you.”

Recognise → Nurture → Direct → Trust

Look for What Allah Has Placed Within Them

Our Ummah needs scholars and da’ees, but it also needs doctors, engineers, teachers, writers, entrepreneurs, researchers, designers, lawyers, organisers, mothers, fathers and leaders who understand that whatever Allah has given them is an amanah.

Sometimes I think back to those friends I grew up with, and wonder what might have been different if, when we were fifteen or sixteen, someone had really taken the time to see what was inside each of us. What if someone had recognised the speaker, the writer, the organiser, the businessman, the thinker or the leader, nurtured those qualities, and then challenged us to use them for something greater than ourselves? Alhamdulillah, many of them have gone on to live successful lives, but I can’t help wondering how much potential our Ummah loses simply because nobody ever helps a young person discover what they could contribute.

Perhaps that is one of the greatest responsibilities we have as parents. Our children are carrying abilities that we may only be seeing the earliest glimpses of today. We don’t know what those abilities might become in ten, twenty or thirty years. But we can pay attention. We can recognise them, nurture them, direct them towards Allah, and give them opportunities to carry real responsibility. Perhaps, one day, our children will look back and realise that before they could see what Allah had placed within them, someone else saw it first.

And the first step is to allow them to realise their mission in life.