In a world increasingly defined by external noise, shallow distractions, and performative morality, the inner state of the human being is more neglected than ever. Among the many Islamic responsibilities, da'wah—the invitation to Islam—is one of the most honoured. But the question is rarely asked: what qualifies a person to call others to Allah? Before platforms and pulpits, before eloquence or charisma, there must be a heart that is sincere, centred, and spiritually sound.

The Qur’an places extraordinary emphasis on the condition of the heart, not simply as a metaphor but as the foundation of one’s relationship with Allah. For those who assume the mantle of the da’iyyah—a caller to truth—nothing can be more essential. A da’iyyah without self-awareness risks calling others to what they themselves have not yet internalised.

The Role of the Heart in the Islamic Paradigm

Islamic epistemology does not isolate knowledge to the intellect. Rather, understanding—fahm, ‘ilm, and basīrah—is tied intimately to the heart. The Qur’an mentions:

“They have hearts with which they do not understand…” (Qur’an 7:179).

This is not poetic licence. It is a theological reality: comprehension and moral insight are seated in the qalb (heart), not merely in the mind. Thus, when we speak of a “sound heart” (qalb salīm), we refer to a vessel that receives truth unfiltered by arrogance, envy, heedlessness, or hypocrisy.

For the da’iyyah, the implications are critical. Calling to Allah while harbouring spiritual corruption is not only self-defeating—it can be harmful to the message. The Qur’an repeatedly warns against hypocrisy, particularly among those who claim to guide others. 

Da’wah Begins With the Self

The prophetic methodology in da’wah was rooted in transformation, not transaction. The Messenger of Allah ﷺ spent over a decade nurturing a community before political authority was ever established. What was he nurturing? Sound hearts.
He ﷺ taught that deeds are judged by intentions, and intentions stem from the heart. A da’iyyah may convey impressive rhetoric, but if their heart is driven by ego, competition, or self-promotion, their call lacks spiritual weight. The early Muslims understood this. They would fear becoming “preachers whose words guide others while their own hearts remain in ruins.”

Before the da’iyyah can address the societal heart, they must examine their own. Without this, da’wah risks becoming activism stripped of ihsān (spiritual excellence), or discourse devoid of humility.

Spiritual Pathologies: What Impairs the Caller’s Work

Islamic scholars have long categorised the diseases of the heart into two domains: corrupt ideas and unchecked desires. Each affects the integrity of da’wah in distinct ways.

Misguided Ideas (Shubuhāt):

These include doubts about divine justice, resentment toward religious obligations, or rational justifications for moral compromise. A da’iyyah infected with these ideas will reflect them subtly in their message—through dilution, avoidance, or inconsistency.

Excessive Desires (Shahawāt):

When the heart is preoccupied with status, wealth, or recognition, the da’wah becomes contaminated. The caller begins to seek applause rather than repentance, admiration over transformation. This compromises sincerity (ikhlās), which is the soul of da’wah.

Purification of the heart (tazkiyah) is not an abstract spiritual exercise. It is a practical necessity for anyone who wishes to represent Islam with authenticity.

Soundness of Heart as the Foundation of Influence

Throughout Islamic history, the most influential figures were not those with the loudest voices but those with the deepest sincerity. Their hearts were in alignment with their tongues. Scholars have argued that people are more affected by the state of the caller than their words. If the speaker’s heart is alive, their words pierce; if their heart is veiled, their speech bounces off the listener.

This is why the Prophet ﷺ is described in the Qur’an as a witness, a bearer of glad tidings, a warner, and a lamp giving light (Qur’an 33:45–46). The metaphor of a lamp is deliberate. He ﷺ did not merely deliver the message; he illuminated it. Light emanates from what is already kindled within.

The da’iyyah, therefore, must be internally illuminated before they can enlighten others.

Remembrance as Spiritual Oxygen

One of the most neglected aspects of a da’iyyah’s life is their private worship. We often associate da’wah with public speaking, teaching, and media work. Yet the most consistent practice of the Prophet ﷺ was dhikr—the remembrance of Allah. 

The Qur’an affirms:

“Truly, in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest.” (Qur’an 13:28)

A heart in turmoil cannot offer serenity to others. A da’iyyah who neglects their spiritual nourishment will burn out, become bitter, or seek fulfilment in praise rather than Allah’s acceptance. The heart, like the body, must breathe. And its breath is the remembrance of Allah.

From Self-Purification to Social Transformation

The early generations of Muslims recognised that societal reform begins with the reform of the individual. This is not a retreat into quietism, but a recognition of priorities. The Prophet ﷺ began with the heart of the individual and ended with the guidance of nations.

Imam Sufyān al-Thawrī famously said: “Whoever rectifies what is between him and Allah, Allah will rectify what is between him and others.” This principle is a cornerstone for effective da’wah. People are drawn to sincerity, humility, and spiritual gravitas.

Today, much of Islamic discourse has become reactionary or performative. There is too much focus on optics and too little on inner reality. The heart must be reclaimed as the starting point of all influence. A da’iyyah who works on their heart serves not only their own salvation but also the integrity of the message.

The Mirror of Sincerity

One of the most powerful forms of da’wah is moral consistency. When one’s private self reflects their public persona, their words carry weight. The Prophet ﷺ was called al-Amīn (the Trustworthy) by his people before he received revelation. His moral uprightness was a form of silent da’wah.

This is critical today. In a sceptical age, people are suspicious of religious authority. Authenticity is rare. The da’iyyah must be able to say, without arrogance and with honesty: “I am not calling you to what I have not tried to live.”

This demands humility, not perfection. A caller who admits their struggles but remains committed to reforming themselves inspires more trust than one who pretends to be faultless. The path to Allah is one of struggle and sincerity, not perfection.

Cultivating Hearts to Receive the Message

The da’iyyah is not merely a transmitter of information. They are a cultivator of receptivity. Just as a farmer prepares soil before planting seeds, a caller must prepare hearts before delivering the message.

This involves empathy, emotional intelligence, and patience. People are not transformed by logic alone but by connection. The Prophet ﷺ transformed hearts by knowing his people, by seeing their potential, and by addressing their specific struggles.

A da’iyyah with a sound heart can recognise when someone needs counsel, when they need compassion, and when they need challenge. This discernment is a fruit of spiritual clarity.

Conclusion: The Heart as the First Masjid

In our rush to influence others, we often overlook the most urgent arena of reform—our own hearts. For the da’iyyah, the inner world is not secondary; it is the first battlefield. Without spiritual clarity, one may call to Islam while embodying none of its light.

The sound heart is not simply a personal aspiration. It is a public necessity. If we want our da’wah to reach people—not just their ears but their inner lives—we must begin with ourselves. We must re-centre the heart, not as a poetic ideal but as a theological imperative.

When the da’iyyah realises that every word they utter is judged not just by its correctness but by its intention, they begin to approach their work with a sense of awe and responsibility. The tools of da’wah—speech, writing, teaching—are only as effective as the purity from which they emerge.

In the end, the most powerful form of calling to Allah is being called by Him. That begins when the heart is returned to its rightful role: not as a silent organ, but as the very seat of truth.