30 Nights with the Qur’an: A Ramadan Series for Muslim Teens

In 2017, the Pew Research Center performed a survey on Muslim teens—not teens off the street, but teens who attend the masjid—and the results, I sense, don’t seem to have hit us hard enough. Their survey revealed something devastating: 1 in 4 Muslim teens who attend the masjid—not random kids off the street, but our children who show up for Jumu’ah and masjid programs—will eventually leave Islam entirely as adults. Not just pray less. Not just drift away. They will stop identifying as Muslim in any sense. That’s not a statistic. That’s your daughter’s friend. Your son’s teammate. Maybe, your own child.

I am often inspired by the dawah efforts that I see in so many communities across the world, and these efforts are paying admirable dividends as people continue to enter Islam globally, alhamdulillah. But this fact hides an ugly truth, that while we are so engaged in sharing Islam with others, our own children are bleeding and shedding silent tears as they struggle to develop their identity and personal relationship with Islam. And the tragedy? Many of us don’t even know it’s happening. They smile at family gatherings. They fast during Ramadan. They show up to the masjid when you make them.

But in their rooms, late at night, they’re Googling: “Can I still be a good person if I leave Islam?” They’re crying because they feel like frauds—not Muslim enough for the masjid, not “normal” enough for school. They’re exhausted from performing different versions of themselves in every space they occupy. And by the time we notice the crisis, they’ve already mentally checked out.

It seems that we are so focused on nearly everything else, assuming that our kids will just “figure it out” like we did, that we have neglected them in their moments of greatest need.

As we enter the noble month of Ramadan, our world, today in 2026, is suffering immense changes. There are intense pressures on so many fronts, and I know how overwhelming this can seem.

But I would like to propose that we make this Ramadan different. I would like to ask you to turn your attention away from the outside world and all of its distractions, and focus on your children in an attempt to connect with their world and to see their struggles through their eyes.

Even as a first generation American, born and raised here, I can see how different the world is today for our children, and just how destructive and exhausting it can be for them. I call upon you to remember Allah’s words:

يَـٰٓأَيُّهَا ٱلَّذِينَ ءَامَنُوا۟ قُوٓا۟ أَنفُسَكُمْ وَأَهْلِيكُمْ نَارًۭا وَقُودُهَا ٱلنَّاسُ وَٱلْحِجَارَةُ عَلَيْهَا مَلَـٰٓئِكَةٌ غِلَاظٌۭ شِدَادٌۭ لَّا يَعْصُونَ ٱللَّهَ مَآ أَمَرَهُمْ وَيَفْعَلُونَ مَا يُؤْمَرُونَ

O believers! Protect yourselves and your families from a Fire whose fuel is humans and stones, overseen by powerful and severe angels, who never disobey whatever Allah orders—always doing as they are commanded. [Al-Tahrim: 6]

To make this task a little easier, I would like to share with you a series that was created for our tweens and teens, that focuses on their problems and their struggles, offering a solution every night from the Quran. This series, “30 Nights with the Quran: Stories for the Seeking Soul,” offers a chance to interact with the Quran from their perspective, showing how it addresses their unique problems. A great deal of time and thought went into making this series as relevant as possible for our young men and women, and the hope that it will be a source of comfort, direction and enlightenment for them, as well as you.

So, I’m asking you to make this Ramadan different. Not by adding more programs, more lectures, more pressure. But by watching this series with your teen. About ten minutes a night. That’s it. Don’t watch it alone and then lecture them about it. Watch it together. Let them hear you processing the same struggles they face. Let them see that you don’t have all the answers either. Because here’s the truth: Your teen doesn’t need another lecture. They need a witness. Someone who sees their pain and doesn’t minimize it.

A Message to the Teen Reading This (Probably Because Your Parents Made You)

I know. You didn’t choose to be here. Someone—probably your mom or dad—sent you this link with a “you should read this 💙” text. And I get it. You’re tired of being told what to do, how to be Muslim, why you should care.

So, I’m not going to do that.

Instead, I’m going to tell you something that nobody’s probably said to you lately: I see you. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re navigating a world that constantly demands you choose between being Muslim and being yourself—as if those two things can’t coexist. I’m sorry that you never feel authentic anywhere.

I’m sorry that the adults in your life keep saying “just be strong” without teaching you how or understanding what you’re facing.

I’m sorry that Islam sometimes feels like a cage instead of a refuge at this point in your life.

And I’m sorry that when you try to talk about this, people assume you’re “losing your faith” instead of realizing you’re fighting to keep it.

Let me begin by telling you, that though I have never met you, I do sincerely love you and care about you. Although it has been many years since I was where you are, I do feel for you as someone who grew up in this country and had to figure things out mostly alone. My parents loved me a great deal, as I have no doubt that yours do too, but they couldn’t comprehend the pressures I was exposed to or the choices I had to face, since they grew up in a totally different society. In the years since I went through the pressures of teenage life as a Muslim in the west, things have only gotten harder with smartphones, social media and the steady rise in anti-Islamic sentiment. I’m sorry that you have to go through this.

At the risk of exposing myself as the total nerd that I am, allow me to share the timeless words of J.R.R. Tolkien from his novel, The Fellowship of the Ring, when Frodo, crushed by the weight of carrying the One Ring, confesses his frustration to Gandalf. “I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo. “So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

These words actually echo the teachings of our own beloved Prophet ﷺ when he too spoke of days where it would be so hard to hold onto our faith:

“No, you must call to good and prevent evil until you see greed being obeyed, desires being followed, worldly life being preferred, and everyone being impressed by their own opinion … Truly, ahead of you are days of patience where patience will be like holding a hot coal. The person who does good deeds in that time will have the reward of fifty men who do likewise.” (Sunan al-Tirmidhī)

With that in mind, I would like to invite you to a Ramadan series that was put together just for you. It’s called, “30 Nights with the Quran: Stories for the Seeking Soul,” where each night in Ramadan we are going to take a small peek into how the Quran can help you get through this very challenging time in your life. I don’t want you to just survive, but to thrive, and I hope that this series will hit home with you. It is also a way to reach out to you and let you know that you matter; that you matter very much, and that there are people out there who want to be there to support you. No judgment, no lectures, no pressure.

So, starting on the first night of Ramadan, a new video and written reflection, exclusive to Muslim Matters, will drop every night of Ramadan. Each one tackles a real struggle you’re likely facing—identity, comparison, parent conflicts, being the only Muslim in the room—and shows how the Quran addresses it.

• Watch alone or with friends
• Drop comments/questions—I’ll respond to every one bi ithnillah
• Join the email community for a deeper dive, reflections and resources: [

This isn’t another lecture series. It’s a 30-day challenge: What if the Quran actually has something to say about your real life?

Only one way to find out.

See you Night 1 insha Allah,

P.S. – You’re not alone

Dr. Ali