The Quiet gift of being a revert

There is a particular strength that comes with finding faith rather than inheriting it.

To come to Islam as a revert is to arrive without the weight of sect, tribe, or cultural ownership. It is to meet the Qur’an as it speaks, not as it has been filtered, weaponised, or narrowed by wounded egos and power struggles. Many of us come bruised, questioning, and alert — not empty-headed, not submissive in the unhealthy sense, but awake.

And because we were not carried into belief by habit, our faith is not easily shaken by noise.

When someone hurls labels like kāfir as an insult, or tries to weaponise Islam to assert dominance, it does not undo us. We recognise that behaviour for what it is: human injury dressed up as piety. Islam does not need such defenders, and Allah does not require cruelty spoken in His name. The Qur’an itself warns us that oppression and arrogance are not signs of closeness to God, no matter how loudly someone speaks about Him.

What anchors reverts is that our relationship with Allah is direct.

Allah says in the Qur’an:

“And when My servants ask you concerning Me — indeed, I am near. I respond to the call of the caller when they call upon Me.”

(Qur’an 2:186)

Near. Not mediated. Not guarded by gatekeepers. Not owned by scholars, sects, or loud men with microphones.

This is why the faith of a revert often feels unshakeable. We did not arrive because we were told to believe — we arrived because we answered a call. We searched, resisted, doubted, circled back, and then recognised truth when it stood before us. When belief comes that way, it settles deeper in the bones.

Many reverts naturally gravitate to the Qur’an first — not out of rebellion, but out of instinct. The Qur’an is Allah’s own speech, unambiguous in its call to tawḥīd, justice, humility, and mercy. It repeatedly corrects the very human tendency to elevate messengers beyond their station. The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ is honoured, loved, and followed — but never worshipped. He, like Jesus before him, called people away from himself and toward God.

The Qur’an reminds us:

“Say: I am only a human being like you, to whom it has been revealed that your God is One God.”

(Qur’an 18:110)

To honour the Prophet is to follow his message — not to replace Allah with reverence so intense that it slips into something else.

Reverts often sense this intuitively because nothing in us is inherited. There is no fear of “betraying tradition,” no reflexive loyalty to hadith over Qur’an, culture over conscience. This doesn’t make reverts superior — but it does make the faith cleaner at the point of contact. Fresh water at the source.

And yes, among reverts there are disagreements, half-formed ideas, unpolished theology. That’s natural. But what binds us is a shared understanding: the Qur’an is the criterion. Opinions may exist, but they bow to revelation. Hadith may inform, but they never outrank Allah’s words. This hierarchy matters — especially in an age where Islam is often reduced to rules, outrage, and identity warfare.

There is also something quietly powerful in knowing that we were not “chosen” in the way people sometimes romanticise.

We chose.

We stepped toward Allah — and He drew near.

The Prophet ﷺ narrated (in meaning) that Allah says: “Whoever comes to Me walking, I come to them running.” While this wording comes through hadith, its spirit is already alive in the Qur’an’s promise of nearness, response, and mercy. It captures something many reverts feel in their chest: the sense that when we turned, even hesitantly, we were met with overwhelming gentleness.

This is why external hostility does not undo us.

This is why insults do not hollow us out.

This is why wounded voices cannot steal our peace.

Our Islam is not borrowed.

Our faith is not second-hand.

Our conviction was earned through seeking.

And perhaps that is the quiet gift of being a revert:

to love Allah not because we were raised to —

but because, after everything, we recognised Him.