'In the name of....'

Lombok Reflections

'In the name of.....'

Sometimes the most profound reminders come when you are not looking for them at all. That day, I was simply on my way to the airport. Nothing unusual, just a routine drive I had taken many times before. But I chose to leave earlier than necessary, giving myself a little space. Space to reflect. Space for Allah to show me something I had not expected.

As I drove, my eyes caught sight of three stunning masjid domes in the distance, rising above the kampung rooftops. One was a beautiful ocean blue, another glittering gold, and the third, a soft shade of pink. They stood like silent lanterns, glowing against the horizon. My heart stirred, and I thought to myself, let me see where this takes me.

I turned off the main road, detouring into the kampung, winding through its narrow lanes. Small houses leaned close to the street, with laundry swaying gently in the breeze, roosters crowing from behind bamboo fences, and neighbours pausing their conversations to watch as I passed by in my car. The streets tightened with every turn, as though testing whether I would continue.

And then, at last, I reached the masjid with the blue dome. I drove closer, parked my car and got out and when I looked at its sign, I froze.

It read: Masjid Nurul Ihsan.

For a moment I stood in silence...

Out of all the thousands of masjids scattered across Lombok, I had been led to one that bore my very name. SubḥanAllah. What were the chances? Was this an accident, or was this Allah’s subtle way of placing a mirror before me?

Ihsan. A word heavier than any stone. It is not a label, but a station of faith.

Allah commands it in the Quran:

“Indeed, Allah commands justice and Ihsan, and giving to relatives, and forbids immorality, bad conduct, and oppression. He admonishes you so that you may take heed.” (16:90).

And when Jibril asked the Prophet ﷺ about Ihsan, the Prophet defined it in a way that pierces the heart:

“It is to worship Allah as though you see Him, and if you do not see Him, then indeed He sees you.” (Muslim).

Standing before Masjid Nurul Ihsan, I felt my name press against me like a question I could not escape.

Am I living up to this?

Do I worship as though I see Him?

Do I live with excellence even when no one is watching?

Names are not accidents. They are reminders. On the Day of Judgment, we will be called by our names and by our deeds. Will my name honour me, or will it testify against me?

But then the reflection deepened even further. If one human name could weigh so heavily on me, what then of the Names of Allah? For His Names are not titles, they are realities. They describe His Essence, His Attributes, His Actions. They are eternal, perfect, and comprehensive.

Allah says:

“And to Allah belong the most beautiful Names, so call upon Him by them, and leave those who deviate concerning His Names.” (7:180).

And the Prophet ﷺ said:

“Allah has ninety-nine Names, one hundred less one; whoever memorises them will enter Paradise.” (Bukhari, Muslim).

But memorisation here is not lip-service. It is to learn them, to understand them, to reflect upon them, and to live by them.

I asked myself: “how much effort have I really put into knowing them?”

We spend years memorising the periodic table, mathematical formulas, endless theories in schools and universities. We fill our minds with passwords, deadlines, shopping lists, and digital notifications, but how many of us have truly filled our hearts with the Names of Allah?

Some of us, Alhamdulillah, even memorise Quran, in part or in full. But the Names of Allah, the very Names He revealed so that we might know Him. How many of us have truly learned them?

To know that He is Ar-Rahman, the Most Merciful, is to never lose hope, no matter how dark the sin.

To know He is Al-Ghafur, the Forgiving, is to weep in repentance with certainty that His pardon is greater than our shame.

To know He is Ar-Razzaq, the Provider, is to let go of the illusion that our jobs and salaries sustain us.

To know He is Al-Hakim, the All-Wise, is to submit when life cuts bitterly, trusting that His decree carries wisdom unseen.

To know He is Al-Latif, the Subtle and Gentle, is to recognise His hidden kindness in the smallest details.

Every Name is a door.

A believer who carries them begins to see the world differently.

He no longer fears people, for he knows Al-Muiz and Al-Muthill, the One who honours and the One who humiliates.

He no longer chases validation, for he knows Ash-Shakur, the One who rewards even the smallest deed.

He does not despair in loneliness, for he knows Al-Qarib, the One who is near.

He does not feel abandoned, for he knows Al-Wakeel, the One who is sufficient as a guardian.

How different would our lives be if we called upon Allah with His Names as naturally as we breathe?

Imagine a believer who, before every test, whispers Ya Fattah, O Opener, open the way for me.

Before every fear, Ya Salaam, O Source of Peace, calm my heart.

Before every mistake, Ya Tawwab, O Accepter of Repentance, turn to me as I turn to You.

Before every need, Ya Ghaniy,

Ya Razzaq, O Self-Sufficient, O Provider, grant me from Your bounty.

And yet, how many of us ignore this treasure chest?

How many of us say we love Allah but do not even know His Names?

What hypocrisy it is to say I trust Him, without knowing the depth of His attributes. What arrogance it is to say I love Him, without learning how He has described Himself.

That day in front of Masjid Nurul Ihsan, my heart carried both gratitude and guilt. Gratitude, because Allah had placed a reminder before me in a way so personal, carrying my own name. Guilt, because I had not yet embodied that name fully, nor had I given Allah’s Names the place they deserve in my life.

I whispered a duah as I left.

O Allah, make me a person of Ihsan, who lives with excellence in worship and sincerity in conduct. O Allah teach me Your Names and let me know You through them. O Allah allow them to live in my heart, to shape my tongue, to transform my actions. And when names are called on the Day of Judgment, let my name be one of honour, because I lived by Your remembrance, and I knew You by the Names You revealed. Ameen.

As I drove away, the domes of the masjids disappeared into the kampung skyline. But the reflection clung to me. If a masjid can bear my name, does my life bear its meaning? And if Allah has revealed His Names to us, will we take the effort to know Him by them, before the day comes when knowing Him is the only refuge left?