Before Ramadan starts
The gates of mercy are about to open
The Prophet ﷺ said in an authentic hadith narrated by Abu Hurayrah: «إذا دخل رمضان فُتحت أبواب الرحمة» “When Ramadan enters, the gates of mercy are opened.”
The gates open whether we’re ready or not, and most of us aren’t ready. We get to Ramadan and hope for the best, but hope without preparation is just wishing.
This is the first part of a suggested Ramadan playbook. This one is about the heart work we need to do before the month arrives. The second will be about the daily practice. Both matter.
Joy first
Before anything else, we need to talk about joy. If you’re reading this and you’re still alive, still Muslim, still able to fast, that’s not luck. That’s mercy already reaching for you.
Allah says: «قُل بِفَضلِ اللَّهِ وَبِرَحمَتِهِ فَبِذَٰلِكَ فَليَفرَحوا هُوَ خَيرٌ مِمّا يَجمَعونَ» “Say: In the bounty of Allah and His mercy, in that let them rejoice. It is better than what they accumulate.”
How many people fasted with us last year who won’t see this Ramadan? How many were planning for it, preparing programs and schedules, and death came first? I was told about a da’wah worker who spent days planning Ramadan programs. He was coordinating with people, setting up schedules, organizing events. He died two days before Ramadan started. He was planning for a month he never saw.
Making it to Ramadan deserves real gratitude, not the casual kind we mumble in passing. Thank Allah that we reached it. Thank Him that our heart still beats, that we can still say la ilaha illa Allah, that we’ll get to experience this month. Ask Him to let us make the most of it. This joy, this gratitude, this is where preparation starts.
A clean slate
We can’t fill a cup that’s already full. Before Ramadan gets here, we need to empty out what’s weighing us down.
The Prophet ﷺ taught us that Allah forgives what’s between us and Him. That part is straightforward. Repent, ask forgiveness, mean it, move forward. The hard part is what’s between us and other people.
In an authentic hadith, the Prophet ﷺ explained that every Monday and Thursday, the gates of paradise open and Allah forgives everyone except two people who have enmity between them. Allah says: «انظروا هذين حتى يصطلحا» “Leave these two until they reconcile.”
The Prophet ﷺ also said the real bankrupt person is the one who shows up on Judgment Day carrying other people’s rights and grievances on their back. Not the one without money. The one with debt to humans they never paid back.
Who have we wronged? Who’s wronged us and we’re still holding onto it like it’s protecting us from something? It’s not. It’s just heavy.
Start with family because those ties matter most in Islam and they’re usually the ones we’ve let fall apart. A parent we were short with. A sibling we haven’t called in months. A cousin we’ve been avoiding because of something that happened years ago and neither of us even remembers who started it.
The conversation doesn’t need to be elaborate. We overthink this part. “There’s been tension between us. If I wronged you, I’m asking you to forgive me. If you wronged me, I forgive you. I want this to end before Ramadan starts.”
That’s it. Most people will meet us there. And if they don’t? We still did our part. We still removed the barrier on our end. Allah sees that.
Walking into Ramadan while carrying grudges and broken relationships is like trying to run with ankle weights. We’ll move, but slowly, painfully, wondering why everyone else seems lighter than us. The relief that comes from reconciliation isn’t just emotional. It removes actual barriers between us and Allah’s mercy.
Mercy, not punishment
We sit down to pray and immediately the thoughts start. “Who are you to ask for anything? Look at everything you did this year. The prayers you skipped. The lies you told. The people you hurt. The things you watched that you shouldn’t have watched. The promises you broke. Why would Allah listen to you?”
That voice is not from Allah. That’s shaytan trying to lock us out before we even knock on the door.
Allah says in Surat az-Zumar: «قُل يَا عِبَادِيَ الَّذِينَ أَسرَفُوا عَلَىٰ أَنفُسِهِم لَا تَقنَطُوا مِن رَّحمَةِ اللَّهِ» “Say: O My servants who have transgressed against themselves, do not despair of the mercy of Allah.”
Read that again. O My servants who have transgressed. Allah is calling the sinners, the ones who messed up, and telling them not to give up on His mercy. The Prophet ﷺ narrated from Allah in a qudsi hadith: «أنا عند حسن ظن عبدي بي» “I am as My servant expects Me to be.”
If we walk into Ramadan already convinced we’re not worthy, timid and half-hearted, we’ve put a ceiling on what this month can do for us. But if we come expecting mercy, really expecting it, that expectation itself becomes worship.
Allah forgave a lifetime of sins for someone who gave a thirsty dog water to drink. One act of kindness to an animal erased years of wrongdoing. We’re still alive to see this Ramadan when plenty of people didn’t make it. That’s mercy reaching for us. So let’s reach back with both hands.
Say this and mean it: “O Lord, You kept me alive to reach this month. Don’t make me one of the deprived. Make me one of the ones who receives mercy. I’m at Your door, O Most Merciful of those who show mercy.”
The shaytan will tell us we’re presumptuous for asking. He’ll say we need to prove ourselves first, earn it, show we deserve it. Let’s not listen. Allah doesn’t need us to grovel. He wants us to hope in Him, to expect good from Him, to come to Him like a child runs to a parent knowing they’ll be welcomed.
A bootcamp
Allah says: «يَا أَيُّهَا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا كُتِبَ عَلَيكُمُ الصِّيَامُ كَمَا كُتِبَ عَلَى الَّذِينَ مِن قَبلِكُم لَعَلَّكُم تَتَّقُونَ» “O you who believe, fasting is prescribed for you as it was prescribed for those before you, that you may become righteous.”
The key word is that last part. Taqwah. God-consciousness, awareness of Allah, righteousness, whatever translation you prefer. That’s what we’re after. That’s why Allah prescribed fasting in the first place.
Ramadan isn’t just about not eating during the day. It’s a taqwah school. One of the most intense training programs we’ll go through in our lives for learning how to be conscious of Allah in everything.
The scholars say fasting teaches us in ways nothing else can. When we fast, we’re denying ourselves things that are normally halal. Water, food, intimacy with our spouses. Completely permissible things that we give up from dawn to sunset because Allah told us to. Nobody’s watching us in our own homes. We could drink water and no one would know. But we don’t, because Allah knows.
That training, that discipline, that internal compass that says “Allah is watching even when no one else is” gets stronger every day we fast. And once it’s strong enough to keep us from halal things, it becomes strong enough to keep us from haram things too.
This is why the Prophet ﷺ said: «من لم يدع قول الزور والعمل به فليس لله حاجة في أن يدع طعامه وشرابه» “Whoever does not give up false speech and acting upon it, Allah has no need for him to give up his food and drink.”
We can go the whole month hungry from dawn to sunset and gain nothing if we’re still lying, gossiping, watching what we shouldn’t watch, treating people badly. The hunger is supposed to wake something up in us. We need to let it.
There are two types of fasting. The first is what we’re all familiar with. No food, no drink, no intimacy from dawn to sunset for thirty days. But there’s a second type of fasting that doesn’t end when Ramadan ends. It’s the fasting of our limbs from sin. Our tongues from lying and backbiting. Our eyes from looking at haram. Our ears from listening to what displeases Allah. Our hands from taking what isn’t ours. Our feet from walking toward sin.
Ramadan trains us for this second type of fasting. The one that’s supposed to last our whole lives. If we can stop ourselves from drinking water in the middle of a hot afternoon just because Allah said so, we can stop ourselves from gossip. From scrolling through things we know we shouldn’t look at. From all of it.
The goal is transformation by the end of Ramadan. To leave the month different than we entered it. Kinder. More patient. More generous. More aware of Allah in everything we do. That's taqwah, and that's what we're after.
The win
The win isn’t fasting perfectly or praying every prayer or finishing the Quran. Those are means, not ends. The win is leaving Ramadan changed. The taqwah we build in thirty days becomes part of who we are. It stays with us. It makes us better Muslims in Shawwal, in Dhul Hijjah, in Muharram, all year long until the next Ramadan comes.
This is why preparation is important. We can’t walk into this month distracted, weighed down by unresolved conflicts, doubting Allah’s mercy, unclear about what we’re trying to accomplish. We need to know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it.
So let’s start now. Repent and fix what’s broken between us and the people we’ve wronged. Get our expectations right. Understand that this month is a gift, a training ground, a chance to become who we’re supposed to be.