I was only five years old, when my father took me to one of the largest department stores in Yogyakarta to see displays of electric car toys.  I was enchanted.  A month later, my dad gave me a car toy for celebrating my birthday.  In a thorough sense, I could detect a method in his actions, my dad created a desire, and then, he fulfilled it.

Witnessing that being a nurse, my neighbor lived a quite good life, I began to enjoy studying biology as I entered a senior high school particularly anything related to human body.  In the first year at the institute, I was very sure that I would take at least three years of preparatory science courses to become a registered nurse.  My plans were based on three observations, (a) I liked human body anatomy, (b) I was fairly good at it, and (c) nursery was the only career I knew of that utilized human body anatomy.

At Surya Global institute of health science where I attended, I was soon recruited by a faculty member to serve as laboratory assistant.  My activities included washing dishes, inventorying chemicals, mixing reagents, supervising student laboratory work, and even lecturing for a week when a lecturer became seriously ill.  In short order, I was introduced to many aspects of the teaching profession.  I enjoyed myself so much that I soon forgot my original goal of being a nurse.

One morning after my subuh praying in my second year, I was definitely impressed that Allah wanted me to teach chemistry at the institute.  This call to me was as clear as the calls of my classmates were receiving to an Islamic Boarding.  To accept my call meant finishing college and entering a doctoral program.  Fortunately, Surya Global Institute had established a new model of education system in which formal curriculums were integrally combined with a boarding system.

Allah led me through each important step in my career.  One of the more dramatic instances of divine guidance occurred one day in March.  I composed at Google e-mail my application to a particular graduate program and sent it at 08.00 a.m. with a prayer that Allah would show me which school to choose.  At 03.00 p.m. a faculty member from that very institute called to ask if I was planning to apply.  I truthfully answered that I had just sent the letter through e-mail.  By 04.00 p.m., I had received an e-mail answer offering me a full Islamic boarding membership.

When I began my higher education, I knew very little about the teaching profession.  Now it is hard to imagine anything more fulfilling than to be a faculty member at a Islamic college where I can teach both academic lecture and religion lessons.  My heavenly father created the desire, and then He fulfilled it.  Now, I totally forgot all about my plan of being a registered nurse.  (Globalmindset Indonesia)

It has not been easy for me to get others’ understanding about my belief that life goes 99.99%, if not 100%, by Allah’s scenario.  Human beings, as creature, can only perform what Allah determines ones to do.  To be on the safe side, adjusting to common people’s point of view, all we should do is simply obey whatever declared in al Qur’an and as Sunnah.  Regardless that through modern education system, we have been indoctrinated to ignore the invisible aspect of life, I called to share my experience.

At a Saturday evening in the early 2010s, I was in my classmate’s 1995 Jeep for a ride.  We were driving to our campus boarding for a Weekend Ta’lim Program.  When my  classmate pulled into the left lane, preparing to make a left turn, headlights which a moment before had seemed nearly a half meter behind us, suddenly loomed in our rear window.  We heard the skidding of tires and expected the speeding automobile to demolish our car completely.  Instead, it skidded in a complete circle on the pavement and then, with a final half revolution, rumbled onto the very large grassy median where it stopped a hundred yards later, headed in the opposite direction.

Quickly we pulled onto the median and went back to the other car.  The driver was shaken badly but otherwise uninjured and neither car was damaged.  After waiting a few minutes to regain our own composure, we continued on to campus mosque where we gave thanks for Allah’s protection in what easily could have been a close-to-death accident.  “That was an extreme close call!” I kept saying to myself while struggling to settle our feeling down.

My parents were both Islam religion elementary school teachers at the time.  They communicated with me each week by SMS.  When their regular SMS appeared on my mobile phone that day, it contained the usual report of family and ta’lim activities.  Much to my surprise, in no more than an hour after the regular, I received another SMS from my mother, it began with a question, “Were you son involved in any significant activity or dangerous situation an hour ago at about 5:50 p.m.?  I asked because at that very moment, Allah impressed upon me to pray urgently for your protection.”

I was intensely moved to realize that my mother who was in another country hundreds of kilometers away was praying for me at the moment of my life-threatening hazard.  As a santri (student of Islamic Boarding) in college, far away from family, it was gratifying to know that parental love and angelic protection broke through time and provincial boundaries.  We realized Allah’s presence and protection were not dependent upon parental proximity.  That near accident is now a very treasured memory.  During college it often encouraged me that Allah subhanahu wata’ala had a plan for my life.

In the many year since that time, not only have I been grateful for Allah’s goodness to me at that moment, but I have tried to be sensitive to prompting of the Holy Spirit to pray for students, faculty, friends, and given me needed grace, wisdom, or safety because someone else was praying for me.  My faith has been strengthened and my commitment to regular and spontaneous for others has become a part of my life.  This memorable accident also reminds me of what prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, once said that anyone who prays for others for the sake of Allah, will at the same time gain the same prayers by Malaikats (angles) as a trade.  (mBah Mann, Suryaglobal)

I definitely agree with what Herbert Marcuse once said, “We do not content ourselves with the life we have in our selves and in our being, we desire to live an imaginary life in the mind of others, and for this purpose we endeavor to shine.”  This thought does a good job of describing my life as a third year student in college.  Discontented in the inside, I was completely driven to get other people’s approval.

Probably my addiction to performance grew out of painful family issues, most certainly from rejection as a child.  In fifth grade of my elementary school, while the other girls started to talk about boys, I loved to ride bikes and beat any boy in the neighborhood at any spontaneous race.  I was a little weighty, and had straight, stringy, black hair.  The boys teased each other by saying they were in love with me.  It hurt so bad to be “me” that I decided I would become whatever the world around me would admire and praise.

By the first day entering junior high school, I stopped eating to stay thin.  Puberty turned me into a little beauty and classic over-achiever.  The guys who had teased me really wished they hadn’t.  I was everything from model to honor student to varsity cheerleader.  My high school sweetheart was the respected   football-team captain and quarterback.  Even so, my inward confidence level was still so low that I would make banners in the auditorium to avoid mixing in the social hall before school started in the morning.  At State University of Gajah Mada , I amazed one honor after another.  I was privileged to be an officer in the highly disciplined, campus choir team, a campus beauty queen, and an honor student.  I was voted an All-University favorite by fellow students and named as the Yogyakarta most dynamic girl by the faculty.

There was no doubt that I was shining in the eyes of others.  But how could I be content on the inside?  I was still weighed down with a poor self-image and a nagging sense of failure.  The high bar I set for myself seemed insurmountable.  I long for inner peace and determine to look to God to find it.  In the first semester of my college third year, I enrolled in a halaqah (muslim group) conducted by an ustadz (Islam religion conductor) who was in poor health and, perhaps, was the most boring ustadz I had ever had.  People were asleep all over the class.  But I sat at the front raw with my holy Qur’an open, listening to every word.  As this humble, genuine, peaceful man simply taught what “the Qur’an says,” I discovered that the lesson was all about faith in Allah the almighty and Muhammad as the messenger.

One of the articles the ustadz read astounded me as it promised that simple faith in Allah subhanahu wata’ala and by obeying whatever He tells us to do (and not because of my good works) not only made me right with Him, but would make me whole from the inside out.  I left my final exam completely at peace and with a joyful assurance that Allah would bring direction and purpose to my life.  The first change I experienced was a focus on pleasing this One who loved me unconditionally rather than living to please the crowd.

 I found myself using my notoriety as a platform to share the Islam religion course and chose to go into religion work instead of taking one of the secular job offers laid before me.  My choices were met with mixed reviews, mostly negative.  Many fellow students and faculty were uncomfortable with my radical change, and, in my mind, I plummeted from my high perch on campus.  The rejection hurt, but the forgiveness, love, and true fulfillment I had found in Islam were real and of much greater worth to me than “shining.”  The divorce from the world was the first surgery Allah had to perform to set me free to experience His greater plan for my life.

Twenty years later I was invited back to UGM—by a secular alumni association—to share with a theater full of school leaders how to find peace in life.  As I faced this beautiful, disciplined, driven young women so much like myself at their age, I knew I was looking at girls who were striving to achieve an elusive inner peace.  I was totally open with them about my life—my struggle with poor self-image and a sense of failure.  The audience was with me.  Afterward many young women lined up to tell me how deeply my words had touched them, many with tears saying, “I felt you were talking just to me.”

I never think that I have enough word to tell my fellow readers how amazing the redemptive love of Allah swt is and how thankful I am that He burst into my busy college life to set me free from my addiction to performance.  Now I find that to be outstanding before others is a false happiness despite that sharing such spiritual understandings is not that easy.  (Hj. Nur Kumara, SE, SG, Indonesia)            

I was blessed to have been raised in a muslim family where love was remarkably plentiful.  What I needed and received was a naïve experience that would build on the firm foundation established during my childhood.  I came to Yogyakarta as a muslim and, in fact, can never remember not feeling a claim of higher power on my life.  My experience was not a quite dramatic or sensational.  Little did I realize when I enrolled at University of Indonesia in 1983 that several men, all associated sport, would so surely influence my life socially, physically, academically, and spiritually.

I indeed loved academics and I also loved sports.  This campus allowed me with integrity to do both.  My coaches—Mr. Dwi Cahyono in football and Mr. Yudy Wijono in badminton—allowed me to put academics first while also enjoying the privilege of participating in intercollegiate sport.  Our athletic trainer, the late Yusuf Sumarso, and my academic advisor and former college sport coaches, emphasized the same.

For all of them (and later for me), coaching was teaching—more experienced mentoring younger ones in mutually satisfying ways.  There was no compromising the striving for excellence in sports, but all knew its proper perspective on the sophomoric scene.  Those pious men did not wear their religion on their sleeves.  Rather, it was an inherent part of the fabric of their lives.

They lived their faith every day, and it was experienced by those of us who had the privilege of coming under their supports.  During six semesters of intercollegiate sport, I never heard any of bad language, never witnessed a dehumanizing of the human spirit, and never observed a wrongdoing that led us astray.  These were men of conviction, uncommon courtesy, and unwavering dedication to family, mosque, community, and campus.

Each was particularly committed to those of us who had been entrusted to their care.  They did not disappoint.  As Ustadz (teachers of Islam studies), and coaches, these men were as comfortable serving communion on Sunday as they were outlining the X’s and O’s of athletic strategy on Saturday.

They were consistent in their application of valued principles and unwavering in their commitments to Allah and the Messenger Muhammad pbuh (peace be upon him) as the only Lord and Savior.  They did not open the doors to our spiritual life with a two-by-four, rather, like Muhammad pbuh they came with a gentle knock that instilled a desire to follow.  Their faith was shared by example every day in every way.  And, in the process, my faith was strengthened in ways that brought confidence, joy, and peace to the living of each new day.  I could not thank them enough for their remarkable values they’ve ever taught.  (WD, SSG, Indonesia)

I don’t remember the exact date when I heard the Monday morning ustadz describing the destruction in Aceh after a major earthquake and tsunami .  Nonetheless, I still keep in mind that it was about a week after the disaster.  The mission presentation was part of a boarding weekend program.  As a third-year student in college, I appreciated the information, and I thought, “Ya Allah, You need to do something about this!”  As usual, I made dhuha (morning sunnah) prayer to close the weekend program and Allah simply said, “Very well, why don’t you make a team?”

I tried to refuse.  My passion was mission in Yogyakarta, not Aceh (Sumatra).  “Ya Allah, why don’t You send someone else?”  Having finished my prayer, I walked to the boarding convention room where santries (boarding students) were gathering.  I asked a friend, “Did Allah tell you the same thing He told me?”

To my surprise, my friend’s response was simple, “I think so!  When do we leave?”  As only some santries who were not versed in boarding protocol would do, I went to the front of the auditorium and politely announced, “The al Mighty has spoken, and those whom Allah told to go to Aceh will meet here after dhuhur prayer.”  Twelve male and five female santries came together.

Within forty eight hours, we concluded that we had to obey.  We were convinced that Allah would provide the resources we needed.  We pooled our money and bought cellular funds for phoning our relatives.  We phoned our families, our friends, and our home-mosque usthadz, and we waited to see what would happen in the baitul mals (collected muslim community deposits) over the end of the month.

Everyone called to take parts.  My responsibility was planning the trip budget.  The projected budget reached approximately Rp. 50,000,000 (more or less US $ 5,000).  Not to mention a hundred million rupiahs.  Not one of us even had more than one million rupiahs.  Yet, Allah gave us the faith to trust His provision.

Alhamdulillah, thank to Allah, the following Monday, the chief of the boarding came to my room for a chat.  He had never visited my room before, so I knew this visit must be important.  “When the Almighty speaks, we must listen,” said he, “I want to be on His side when He moves people.”  Then he promised all needed services for our trip.  He had even talked with the president of social mission.

Three days after the final exams were over, everything was ready.  A new van had been rented and bus tickets had been purchased, the visiting doctors and paramedics had been in the other car, and the president of the mission said, “Go!”  The social mission team of Suryaglobal Boarding College students now left for Aceh.  Subhanallah, by the end of the month Allah had provided enough money for us to start out.  Alhamdulillah.

We took six days to reach Aceh.  After the tiring journey through the long-winding by-pass of Sumatra, we arrived at Langsa, the first city we found after entering the Province of Aceh.  We spent a month there clearing debris, building temporary mosques, loving the injured, and recovering the physically, mentally, and socially devastated community.  We worked hard, and we laughed and cried together.  Most importantly, we experienced the joy of being obedient to what Allah told us to do.  Allahuakbar.

When we returned home, we found that our expenditures were Rp. 49,955,300.  Allah had provided Rp. 44,700 more than we needed.  The rest money was quite enough for us to pay for the meal in the team dispersal meeting.  Once again, we simply saw Allah at work in our midst. I will never forget His faithfulness or His guaranteed provision.

Naturally, we went to Aceh to serve others.  Nevertheless now, five years later, I realized this trip was part of how Allah wanted to teach a growing faith to boarding college students.  For me, it was not merely growing my faith, this trip was a wonderful lesson that Allah taught me, and afterward Allah conducted me to write it down as an article at this post.  (mBah Mann Globalmindset SG)

No longer than a month after finishing my Islamic Senior High School, I went off to a conventional college.  Seeing me off, the people who loved me, especially my parents, feared for me.  They were afraid that the people I would meet, the things I would experience, and the books I would read would change me.  They wanted me to hold on to, my family and friends called as, the finest belief that had brought me to salvation.  They were afraid that in the halls of academia I would get into those kinds of modernist teaching that had led so many before me away from being pure-bred Muslim.  My family prayed that I would not become one of those intellectuals who look down the old-fashioned religion wherein I was raised.

They were very concerned that I might stray away from my teenage passion to win sinners to repent and fight against those liberal concepts that the modernists talk about.  I did not tell anyone back home when, as part of theology lecture, I started reading some religion-reference books including those unacceptable by the folks back home.  Eventually, I read the most prohibited book titled JIL in which Cak Nun, an Indonesian Muslim figure, was one of the performers.  This primary voice for the public discourse was dissimilar, some even said contradictive, to Islam community that had nurtured me over my teenage years.  Yet, here I was reading the articles—and, frankly, being tickled by them.  To my great surprise, I found that Cak Nun and his friends were not what I expected them to be.

They were not against anyone’s way in encouraging “common” muslim people to make the most out of their faith.  In fact, their reason for encouraging them (common muslim people) was different from those I had ever heard before.  They saw dakwah activities as the means for recruiting people into a movement Allah, the al Mighty, had created in order to change society into socio-economic system in which the poor would be lifted up and the oppressed would be set free.  This was the different point.  Up until I began reading some more references, I thought that the purpose of dakwah was merely to get people ready for the Judgment Day, a day which would be faced at death or even sooner if the Second Coming should occur as well as getting them ready for the next world when life in this corrupt world was ended.  It turned out that we had come up with different perspectives in seeing the concept of dakwah—my folks back home perceived it (dakwah) from a cultural point of view, whereas the rest from an intellectual approach.

The insight that Islam performed a kind of social order that Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala had even authenticated in narration hit me like a bolt of lightning and changed the way I grasped this religion.  I came to understand that Allah SWT was about to set His sovereignty upon people whom He could attack the injustice of society generated by racism, radicalism, homophobia, sectarianism, ash shobiyah, specific group triumphalism, etc.  I recognized that the stories of Muhammad pbuh and the former messengers inside the holy Qur’an were messages about His Kingdom inscribed for human being to read and trust unconditionally.

Most of all, I learned to live my life from the prophet Muhammad pbuh whom we trust as the best model and to pray the Lord’s Prayer with strength.  Needless to say, there were a lot to learn in college.  I never bought into the overly optimistic belief that we could perfect this world, as did those early muslim generations, not to mention, of course, in the era when the Prophet pbuh (peace be upon him) was still alive.  Today, when I call people to turn back to Allah, I call them to commitment to change the world by changing their mindset.  And now I am working on my mission to encourage them getting an “Ultimate Winning Mindset.”  Last but not least, I was lucky because the college I went to was Surya Global Islamic Boarding College, an institute where both intellectual and spiritual competences were put and combined synergistically.  (Indah Kurnia Savitri, SDII, SSG)

It might have been an ideal beginning, except that I faced a crisis I had never known before.  I had just finished delivering after-praying ta’lim. It had just been my fisrt presentation.  I was in a large, badly-needed-maintenance mosque in a remote area of mountainuos highland of Wonosary, a south-east regency of Yogyakarta Special Province (DIY) Indonesia.  Did I really believe what I had just delivered?  This was not the way it was supposed to be.

I was on a college dakwah (Islamic mission) trip.  I was only a third-year santri (islamic  boarding student) at Suryaglobal.  I had grown up in an islamic family and been converted as muslim since I was born.  Now I was far away from my hometown, my parents, and from everything  that was familiar to me.  Yet, more troublesome to me than the unfamiliar surroundings was the knowledge that I was supposed to be the world-wide ustadz.  O Allah, forgive me for having such too-far imagination!  Astaghfirullah!

Did I truly believe that Muhammad was a messenger of Allah, my perfect model, and my fidunya wal akhirat savior?  Or was I just a shallow product of common muslim family?  I spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the next day in significant contemplation.  I probably felt very much how prophet Muhammad pbuh must have felt as he met malaikat Jibril in the cave.

I had not been as especially serious student, so I was surprised that in my struggle I felt aided by what I had been hearing–and apparently absorbing–in my philosophy class.  Imam Syafii’s popular argument defends Allah’s existence based on the order of creation.  His ideas became real as I sat among the aromatic trees up the hill of Baron beach and stared into the turquoise sea.

Through reason and faith, I came to own the conclusion that there had to be the real universe creator, and I undoubtedly agree that the creator is Allah the one and only God.  Eventually, this reasoned journey led me back to the living, loving His messenger Muhammad pbuh, and to my own confidence that what I was telling others about him was true.

Up to the time of that crisis regency of Wonosary, my faith consisted primarily of what my heart felt.  But, it was there, in Allah’s creation far away from my home and my family, that I really began to believe with my mind.  Eventually, other beliefs came up that I would have to wrestle with and eventually won, but none was so influential as what I discovered that day.  (mBah Mann Surya Global Yogyakarta)

In fact we can not create anything. No, we can’t. Not even our deed nor daily activities. Why? Can you explain it? It’s simple. Come to realize that every creation needs the following aspects: ideas, power, energy, room, time, and could be more.
Such materials belong to Allah. We, human being, got nothing.  We think that we have an idea, for instance. That’s a dead wrong. That’s no more than just a feeling, perception, or opinion.

Like a computer, our body is no more than a hardware. A hardware can never create for itself a software. Our body will never move to act anything without an installed program.  What makes different between human’s creation (cars, computer, etc.) and Allah’s creation (i.e. human being)?  Allah’s creation is perfect.  So perfect that everyone feels that he involves at every motion he makes.  Think, Guys. Think!  What a perfect scenario the world is!  (Hj. Chanif Kurnia Sari, SE., MM, SSG)

At the end of the sixth semester in 2009, after completing my state senior high school in Sragen  (a small city at Central Java), I moved to Yogyakarta to find a part-time job for financing my college.  I, a month later, got a job as a campus bus driver.  After a couple of months driving, attending a village mosque, listening to ta’lim, praying, and thinking about my future, I dedicated my life to full-time kidmat (mosque service).  I lived at the mosque and called to serve as a ta’mir.

I decided to stay in Yogyakarta (so-called Jogja) as I looked for some information about university to attend.  For the first time I came across the name Surya Global Institute of Health Science with its Islamic Boarding System.  The next day, after finding the office address, I drove to the campus to pick up a catalog and admission material.  The person behind the counter, I read the co-card his name was Mulyono, encouraged me to visit the Financial Aid Office.  At the first place I did not feel confident with my dirty uniform.  I protested that my outfit was not presentable.  He insisted, so I went down to the Financial Aid Office where Mrs. Chanif Kurnia greeted me with a big smile and asked a few questions while I stood.  I thought that my clothes were too filthy to sit on her chair.

I was single and wanted a meal ticket and a bed in the boarding.  But no bed was available.   At that time SGIBH (Surya Global Islamic Boarding House) had limited housing.  After fifteen minutes or so of conversation, Mrs. Kurnia gave a name and phone number of seventy-year-old-like man whom everyone called mBah Mann, and whose home had recently gone into pitches from earthquake.  Just a few seconds before I arrived at Mrs.Kurnia’s office, the man had called asking her for santri (Islamic boarding student) to live in his house for free provided that he would keep it cleaned.

I made contact with the man and a month later I moved in.  mBah Mann did not like my job.  He said that bus driver was time consuming and never let me have enough time to do my college tasks, so he helped arrange an interface with the HRD officer who happened to be his best acquaintance.  As mBah Mann wanted me to be, the officer posted me at a better position.  Now, I became the person number one at department of logistics and housekeeping.

This was a good job and the policy allowed me to work around my college schedule.  During the time I lived with I became familiar with al Qur’an, al Hadits, qiyamul lail, sunnah fasting, etc.  Until the last few years when his time became limited for a great deal of dakwah, I received a long, typed letter at Idul Fitri day from mBah Mann detailing his past year and always ending with the command, “Account for yourself, young man.  Only to Allah you cry for help.”  I always responded by sending her a detailed update on my family and me.  Now, mBah Mann has been too busy to talk to me for his world-wide charity. I found he is a major influence in my life.  (Misri Ringinsari, Surya Global, Indonesia)

My thoughts were focused on the numerous changes I would find in my life as a new islamic boarding member at Surya Global College, Yogyakarta, Indonesia.  We were heading to Central Java from the capital of NTB province, Mataram.  My parents were there driving me to this so-called educating city.  I had my share of the usual nervousness that afflicts new comers, but I also felt confident that I could deal with the inevitable changes that college brings.  My religion upbringing, solid and trustworthy, had prepared me for this moment.  It did not occur to me that some of understandings of that religion upbringing might change too.  I was sure that there was nothing to worry about.

I was trying my best to find my own way to heaven.  I grew up in a home that was centered upon going to a mosque, participating in various halaqah, and believing in the justice of Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala.  Along the way, however, I had missed any clear understanding of the role that grace played in my life.  I believe that if I worked heard enough and stayed fairly distant from sin, I could be assured of my salvation.  I found that this graceless faith established in me a pattern of discouragement.  I could never quite get enough control to live the life I thought necessary to get to a place where hidayah was.

At the boarding, I joined a new-comer halaqah conducted by senior ustadz.  The subject of the evening ta’lim was the path to salvation, and we were asked to share our view of muslim journey toward hidayah.  I shared with confidence my view that hidayah resides somewhere deep in our heart, and our task in life was to make our way to get there.  We could only reach the place trough an extra hard contemplation.  I shared how difficult the journey was because every time we sinned we failed and awoke from our contemplation.  When that happens, we must restart from the beginning , retrace our lost track, and continue the contemplation.  I included the idea syaitan, in an attempt to make our journey even more difficult, often ruin our concentration, to assure the difficulty of the journey.

At the end of the story, a conclusion must be made.  So I did.  Confident in my understanding about the challenges of the faith journey, my ustadz responded.  In kind and loving words, he asked me to consider  a different view of the journey.  He said simply that if  I must put hidayah deep in our heart, I should understand that Allah swt had placed lights guiding you to get there.

Subhanallah!  I can still remember the immediate change that one alteration to the imagination brought to my life.  Suddenly I realized that hidayah was a gift from Allah swt, a gift that provided all the motivation I needed to serve the loving Al Mighty.  Discouragement gave way to joy.  Defeat turned to victory.  After all, Suryaglobal Islamic Boarding House had taught me the most important thing in my life.  Thank God for all this.  Alhamdulillah. (Ari Prima, Surya Global, Jogja, Indonesia)