I have sins that have become habits. Sins so ingrained in my day to day that they slip past my conscience and settle deep into my heart, slowly decaying it.

“She said do you love me. I only love my bed and my momma, I’m sorry”

I memorize hooks and choruses with ease, but my tongue can’t pronounce the words that will bring me closer to God. It can’t form the “ع” in “أعوذ بالله من الشيطان الرجيم” without repeated attempts. It’s weak as it comes out and I think of how it’s a reflection of my Imaan. I know, that’s not true. But, nonetheless, it’s how I feel.

Sometimes I hit a streak of consistent dhikr and develop a sense of reclaiming my piety. But I lull myself into that comfort and convince myself God is ever merciful. Which He is, but in that thought I forget to ask for His mercy. And that’s my greatest weakness, my entitlement to God’s mercy.

It’s that entitlement that makes my sins seem small, insignificant compared to the greatness of His mercy. Whats one sin? One small little sin? What harm can it do? And slowly those small sins become repeated, routine and grow slowly in my heart.

How many sins have become habits? How many do I no longer view as sins? And when will I sit to repent for them? When will I ask God for the mercy I know He is capable of?

I’m praying I can kick my habits this Ramadan. I’m praying that all the darkness hidden in my heart from years of neglect and forgetfulness will be cleansed. I’m praying that when I sin, I repent and that God never lets me go.

Here’s to a new chapter of Muni.