Reflection by Br. Usama A.
Four years ago, I got married. Since then, my life has been filled with blessings I could never have dreamed of: I’ve grown as a husband (still very much a work in progress), advanced in my career ahead of schedule and I now have two beautiful children, alhamdulillah. From the outside, life looked complete.
But inside, I still felt some weird emotions: emptiness, subtle existential dread, emotional turbulence.
It’s hard to pinpoint the exact feeling. On the days when I had extra free time, I didn’t know what to do with myself. As a bachelor, I would fill those hours with TV shows and video games, but the idea of those things would just give me a headache. Now, I would just scroll aimlessly on my phone or waste time searching for… something, anything to deal with this feeling.
Eventually, I turned to self-help. I read book after book, hoping someone had the answer. At first, I was inspired — but soon I realized they were all saying the same thing, and worse, the authors themselves didn’t seem to have it all figured out — they were just sharing fragments of wisdom while still searching for meaning themselves. A shared message did stick with me: a man must have purpose. Something beyond family and career. I tried — I chased professional prestige, self-discipline, fitness, achievements. I pursued the “halal” versions of what other men made their lives about.
But the emptiness in my gut and noise in my head didn’t go away.
Deep down, I knew the real answer had to be Islam. I even told myself that my life’s purpose should be to serve Allah. But every time I tried to make Islam the center of my life, it wouldn’t stick. I would add pieces here and there, but the foundation always felt shaky, and I’d veer off back to western ideology.
Enter Camp Sunnah
When I registered, I didn’t even know what the camp was fully about. Honestly, I thought at the very least I’d make a few Muslim friends. What I found was something I didn’t know I’d been starving for: brotherhood.
At the camp, our days were structured like bootcamp except the training was spiritual. Every part of the schedule revolved around building our Deen and strengthening our Iman. We prayed together, studied together, ate together, laughed together.
And somewhere in those days, I began to consistently feel something I had only felt sparingly: peace.
For the first time, I truly experienced what it meant to put Islam at the center of life. The mistake I had been making then became obvious — I was trying to build my faith in isolation. Alone. Just me, in my own little bubble, expecting discipline and Iman to grow out of sheer willpower. But that’s not how we’re designed.
We aren’t meant to do this alone.
Post Camp Lessons
The society we live in pushes us toward radical individualism. “Do it yourself. Focus on your own goals. Don’t depend on anyone.” It sounds empowering, but it leaves us weak and lonely. We isolate ourselves from the very thing that could heal us: community.
At Camp Sunnah, I realized how essential community is for the soul. Faith is not built in isolation. It’s built in circles of remembrance, in prayer rows shoulder-to-shoulder, in friendships where your brother reminds you of Allah when you forget.
This is why so many of us struggle. We try to practice Islam as an individual project. But the path of Islam isn’t just about rituals; it’s about building a state of Iman. And from Iman, striving toward Ihsan — worshiping Allah as if we can see Him. That journey requires more than self-help tricks or solitary effort. It requires brotherhood, discipline, and an environment that constantly pulls you back to Allah. Even so it is still not easy, Iman is not something that falls into your lap — it must be earned, through discipline, through sincerity, through striving in the right environment.
By the last day of camp, I felt two things at once: a deep, quiet peace, and a rising anxiety. Peace, because I had seen what life could look like when faith sits at the center. Anxiety, because I knew how easily that environment could fade once I returned home.
It’s now been 2 weeks since I returned, and I miss the environment dearly. I look forward to the weekly Sunday meetups with my brothers from the camp, where we work to keep the lessons alive. Camp Sunnah didn’t just give me a temporary “Iman high.” It gave me a new perspective, a clear approach, and a community to support me on the journey.
