A Life Running Towards Good

What the life of our brother Idris (rahimahullah) taught me about being a man, serving the deen and running towards good

A real-life hero and role model for us.

It has been exactly a week since our beloved brother Idris returned to his Lord, and exactly two days since we performed his final rites and buried him. Many have reached out to me, all with similar inquisitive minds, eager to know: what made this brother so special? What legacy did he leave behind? Who was he?

Some knew him personally. Some knew of him. Others had never met him at all.

Here is my account of my late brother, may Allah have mercy on him. I ask Allah to make whatever benefit is gained from this post a sadaqah jariyah for him. Ameen.

What was so special about him?

Idris was only 26 years old.

He passed away on 13 September 2026 after suffering a sudden cardiac arrest while taking part in a charity race for East London Mosque. A young brother who appeared healthy and fit as a fiddle. A husband. A father to an eight-month-old daughter. A beloved son. A friend to many. Someone who had already established himself professionally as a Senior Associate at PwC.

And yet, when you listen to people speaking about him now, very little of the conversation is about his job title or any worldly accomplishment.

It is about the person he was. The community work he was involved in. The young people he served. The brothers he supported. His family. His willingness to be there. His willingness to serve.

And perhaps one of the most striking things about all of this is that Idris was not some huge social-media personality. He had little more than around one hundred followers online, yet the virality of his passing touched the hearts of hundreds of thousands of people.

There is a lesson in that alone.

Influence is not the same thing as followers.

You can be known by thousands of people and leave very little behind in their hearts.

And someone can barely exist online, yet Allah allows their character, service and goodness to reach people far beyond anything a follower count could ever measure.

We hope and pray that this enormous outpouring of love was from the acceptance Allah placed for our brother.

The Prophet ﷺ told us that when Allah loves a servant, He calls Jibril and commands him to love that servant. Jibril loves him, the inhabitants of the heavens are called to love him, and then:

ثُمَّ يُوضَعُ لَهُ الْقَبُولُ فِي أَهْلِ الْأَرْضِ

“Then acceptance is placed for him among the people of the earth.”

— Sahih al-Bukhari 6040

Allah knows best regarding the status of any individual, but what a beautiful thing it is to hope for our brother when we see the amount of love people had for him.

The real question for those of us still here is:

How does a person live a life that leaves this kind of effect behind?

I only had the honour of meeting Idris this year, in January, at the Criterion Group Morocco Summit. But in that short period, there were things I witnessed in him that have now become even clearer after his death.

And there are lessons in his life that I believe we cannot afford merely to admire. We need to act upon them.

1. Rectify what is between you and Allah

Before anything else, rectify your affairs with Allah.

We live in a generation obsessed with impact. Everyone wants to build something. Everyone wants to change something. Everyone wants to leave a legacy.

But sometimes we want the legacy before we have built the foundation.

The Prophet ﷺ narrated from Allah in the famous hadith qudsi:

وَمَا تَقَرَّبَ إِلَيَّ عَبْدِي بِشَيْءٍ أَحَبَّ إِلَيَّ مِمَّا افْتَرَضْتُ عَلَيْهِ

“My servant does not draw closer to Me with anything more beloved to Me than what I have made obligatory upon him.”

And then the servant continues drawing closer to Allah through voluntary deeds until Allah loves him.

— Sahih al-Bukhari

There is an order here that we cannot ignore. Before the projects and before attempting to change the world:

What is your salah like?

What is between you and Allah?

What obligations are you neglecting?

What sins have you become comfortable with?

What responsibilities has Allah already placed in your hands?

Service to the deen cannot become an excuse to neglect the deen.

And once those foundations are being built, dedicate what is left of your life to something bigger than yourself. Live for Allah. Serve His deen. Carry the pain of the Ummah.

Look around at the problems facing our people and ask yourself what part you can play.

This is something that stood out in Idris. He was not simply living for himself.

Take notice

My first personal experience of Idris probably explains better than anything else why so many people speak about him the way they do.

When I arrived at the Criterion Morocco Summit, I was empty. Empty of brotherhood. Empty of companionship. Empty of that feeling of being surrounded by people who genuinely cared. And Idris was the first person who took notice.

That sounds simple.

But how many of us actually notice?

There can be a room full of people and one person sitting there struggling internally while everybody carries on around them.

Idris noticed. He sat with me and gave me his time. He poured from his cup of love and mercy towards me until I left that interaction rejuvenated, and by the time I left that retreat, I was ready to pour the love of brotherhood into others.

And that is the thing about many of the deeds we often dismiss as small. They may look small to you because you are not the person receiving them.

Oftentimes, we are waiting for these massive opportunities to transform the Ummah whilst walking straight past the opportunities Allah has already placed in front of us, reducing them in our minds to small deeds.

But what are we doing with the low-hanging fruit?

If Allah puts one struggling brother in front of you and you cannot give him ten minutes, what makes you think you have what it takes to transform a community?

Better yet, what makes us think we deserve to be blessed with bigger opportunities when we do not take the time to build a portfolio of various kinds of good deeds, ready to present to Allah?

If you will not help with the chairs, why are you waiting to lead the conference?

If you will not help one young person, why do you keep speaking about saving a generation?

Abu Dharr reported that the Prophet ﷺ said:

“Do not belittle any good deed, even meeting your brother with a cheerful face.”

— Sahih Muslim 2626

Yes, Allah blessed Idris to do the big things, but he did not belittle the small things, and that combination matters.

There are two kinds of people.

People who are always talking about what they would do if Allah gave them the opportunity.

And people who, when Allah opens the door, walk through it.

This is why the story of Anas ibn al-Nadr is so powerful. He missed Badr. He was deeply affected by missing that opportunity and declared that if Allah allowed him to witness another such occasion, Allah would see what he would do.

Then Uhud came.

And he acted.

Anas ibn al-Nadr advanced when others had fallen back. He famously told Sa'd ibn Mu'adh that he could smell the fragrance of Paradise near Uhud. He was later found with more than eighty wounds on his body.

The narration in Sahih al-Bukhari connects his story with the verse:

مِّنَ ٱلْمُؤْمِنِينَ رِجَالٌ صَدَقُوا۟ مَا عَـٰهَدُوا۟ ٱللَّهَ عَلَيْهِ

“Among the believers are men true to what they promised Allah.”

— Sahih al-Bukhari 2805–2806; Surah al-Ahzab 33:23

And on the other side, the Qur'an speaks about people who swore their strongest oaths about what they would do if commanded, only to be told:

لَا تُقْسِمُوا۟ ۖ طَاعَةٌۭ مَّعْرُوفَةٌ

“Do not swear. Your obedience is known.”

— Surah al-Nur 24:53

Words are easy, and intentions feel good. The point is not merely to promise Allah what you would do if some extraordinary opportunity landed in your lap.

Look at what He has already put in front of you.

He was the vision standing in front of us

This is perhaps one of the most beautiful things that I, as the founder of the Rijal Club, take from all of this.

We invited Idris to help us establish our vision and strategy through a workshop.

He sat with us on more than one evening for several hours, listening to us, prompting us and asking the right questions until we finally arrived at the vision we proudly proclaim today:

“To enrich the lives of the next generation by changing the culture through prophetic leadership.”

But looking back at it now, there is something almost incredible about those meetings and that vision.

We had invited Idris to help us articulate the vision.

Yet in many ways, the vision was standing in front of us.

He was helping us describe the kind of culture we wanted to create while manifesting so many of the qualities we were trying to describe.

In order to see, you need to become.

And here was a young man showing us something of what true rajulah — true manhood — actually looks like.

Through service. Character. Sacrifice. Consistency. And being there when it mattered.

That is where the name Rijal Club means something deeper.

In Arabic, dhakar refers to the male, the biological description.

Rajul means man, and its plural is rijāl.

Of course, the Qur'an uses these words in different contexts, but in a number of powerful passages Allah describes rijāl in connection with qualities that go far beyond merely being male.

Allah says:

مِّنَ ٱلْمُؤْمِنِينَ رِجَالٌ صَدَقُوا۟ مَا عَـٰهَدُوا۟ ٱللَّهَ عَلَيْهِ

“Among the believers are men true to what they promised Allah.”

Some fulfilled what they pledged, while others remained waiting, and they did not change their commitment.

— Surah al-Ahzab 33:23

Look at the words Allah uses:

رِجَالٌ صَدَقُوا۟

Men who were truthful. Men whose words meant something.

Men whose promises to Allah were not simply motivational statements.

That is manhood. Not age. Not salary. Not physical size. Not how intimidating you look.

It is about what you carry.

What you stand for.

Whether your actions testify to the things your tongue claims to believe.

And this is particularly relevant when I think about Idris because he was only 26.

Many people spend their twenties telling themselves that responsibility begins later.

Idris did not have seventy years.

But look at how much life he put into twenty-six.

A rajul can have dunya without the dunya having him

There is another Qur'anic description of rijāl that feels particularly relevant.

Allah says:

رِجَالٌۭ لَّا تُلْهِيهِمْ تِجَـٰرَةٌۭ وَلَا بَيْعٌ عَن ذِكْرِ ٱللَّهِ وَإِقَامِ ٱلصَّلَوٰةِ وَإِيتَآءِ ٱلزَّكَوٰةِ

“Men whom neither trade nor sale distracts from the remembrance of Allah, establishing the prayer and giving zakah.”

— Surah al-Nur 24:37

Notice that Allah does not say these men had no business.

No money. No work. No responsibility.

They had trade.

They had dunya.

The distinction was that the dunya did not distract them from Allah.

A rajul is not necessarily somebody who has no dunya. A rajul is someone whose dunya does not own him.

And Idris is a reminder that you can live an akhirah-centred life and still strive for excellence in your worldly responsibilities.

He was working full-time at one of the world's largest professional-services firms.

He reached the position of Senior Associate at PwC at a young age.

He was married. He was a father. He was a son. He was active in the community.

Of course, responsibilities are real. But Idris showed that having responsibilities and living with purpose do not have to be opposites.

But service starts at home

At the same time, there is another lesson that we desperately need.

Some brothers become heroes outside the home and strangers inside it.

They will stay until midnight planning an Islamic project but struggle to give their wife an hour of undivided attention.

They will mentor everybody else's children while their own children are waiting for them.

That is not the lesson I take from Idris.

When he was helping us, he reminded us that he needed to leave by a particular time.

Why?

Because he needed to get back to his wife and daughter. They struggled to settle and sleep without him being there.

That may seem like a small detail, but it is not small.

His father described him as the light of the house.

That tells you something.

The Prophet ﷺ said:

خَيْرُكُمْ خَيْرُكُمْ لِأَهْلِهِ وَأَنَا خَيْرُكُمْ لِأَهْلِي

“The best of you is the one who is best to his family, and I am the best of you to my family.”

— Sunan Ibn Majah 1977, graded hasan

Serving the deen begins with yourself and includes the home Allah gave you.

Your wife and your family are part of your amanah. Your children are part of your amanah. Your parents are part of your amanah.

The people closest to you should not receive whatever energy remains after everybody else has taken from you.

Stop waiting for the big opportunity

My cousin called me after Idris passed away.

He was crying.

He could not believe it.

He asked if it was the same Idris he had known since he was around 18 years old.

And he described the same person.

Someone who was always receptive to good.

Someone ready to serve the deen.

Someone interested in ideas that could bring change to the Ummah.

That consistency matters.

Because some people become inspired for three days.

Idris appears to have been running towards these opportunities for years.

And that brings me to something I think many of us misunderstand.

A rajul came running

This is where another verse takes on such powerful meaning for me in the context of everything we are speaking about.

In Surah Ya-Sin, Allah tells us:

وَجَآءَ مِنْ أَقْصَا ٱلْمَدِينَةِ رَجُلٌۭ يَسْعَىٰ

“Then from the farthest end of the city a man came, rushing.”

— Surah Ya-Sin 36:20

Look at those words.

رَجُلٌۭ يَسْعَىٰ

A man running. A man striving.

He came running from the far end of the city.

He ran towards an opportunity to stand with the messengers and call his people towards truth.

That image brings together so much of what we mean when we speak about rijāl.

And it brings me back to Idris.

A man who spent his life running towards good.

And then, SubhanAllah, a man whose final moments came while literally running for charity.

The race

Brothers who were there have said that Idris was approximately one hundred yards away from the finish line when he collapsed.

Just one hundred yards.

Paramedics tried to resuscitate him.

One person who says they were there wrote afterwards:

“We were there at the charity run when the brother collapsed and witnessed the paramedics trying to resuscitate him for nearly an hour. Once his passing was declared, birds began to circle above us in the sky and Allah opened the heavens and sent down His mercy to shower over him. Indeed this brother was a righteous person. May Allah accept it from him.”

That was their reflection on what they witnessed.

Allah knows best, but what a beautiful thing for those who loved him to have witnessed, and what a beautiful hope to have for our brother.

Then somebody said something that perfectly captures the lesson for me:

“He was the only one who won the actual race that day.”

We live in a world obsessed with finish lines.

Who came first? Who finished fastest? Who got the degree? Who bought the house?

Everything is measured by crossing some line that the physical world has drawn for us.

But perhaps one of the wisdoms in Allah taking Idris before he crossed that final physical finish line is to remind those of us still here that success was never simply about reaching the lines the dunya paints in front of us.

Sometimes you can cross every finish line in this dunya and still have spent your entire life running in the wrong direction.

And sometimes a person leaves this world with projects incomplete, dreams unfinished and one hundred yards still in front of him, but he spent his life moving towards Allah.

Allah says:

فَٱسْتَبِقُوا۟ ٱلْخَيْرَٰتِ

“So compete with one another in doing good.”

— Surah al-Baqarah 2:148

And elsewhere:

سَابِقُوا۟ إِلَىٰ مَغْفِرَةٍۢ مِّن رَّبِّكُمْ

“Race towards forgiveness from your Lord.”

— Surah al-Hadid 57:21

And Allah says:

وَٱلسَّـٰبِقُونَ ٱلسَّـٰبِقُونَ ۝ أُو۟لَـٰٓئِكَ ٱلْمُقَرَّبُونَ

“The foremost are truly the foremost. They are the ones brought near.”

— Surah al-Waqi'ah 56:10–11

Look at the language of the Qur'an.

Race.

Compete.

Be foremost.

Do not sit on the sidelines.

And this is perhaps what is most symbolic about Idris's final moments.

He had been doing this long before that charity race.

When an opportunity came to help young people, he entered the race.

When Criterion wanted to reach a million youth, he entered the race.

When his family needed him, he entered the race.

When Rijal Club needed his help, he entered the race.

When one brother in Morocco looked empty and needed someone to sit with him, he entered the race.

Small opportunity. Big opportunity.

He ran towards the good.

The tragedy is not that a believer fails to complete every ambition he had.

The tragedy is never entering the race in the first place.

What matters is what state you are found in

The Prophet ﷺ said:

إِذَا أَرَادَ اللَّهُ بِعَبْدٍ خَيْرًا اسْتَعْمَلَهُ

“When Allah intends good for a servant, He puts him to work.”

The Companions asked how.

The Prophet ﷺ replied:

يُوَفِّقُهُ لِعَمَلٍ صَالِحٍ قَبْلَ الْمَوْتِ

“He enables him to perform a righteous deed before death.”

— Jami' al-Tirmidhi 2142; al-Tirmidhi called it hasan sahih and Darussalam grades it sahih.

We ask Allah that Idris was from those whom Allah employed in goodness before taking them back to Him.

He was running for charity.

But more importantly, the testimony of those who knew him suggests that he had been running towards good for a long time before that day.

My dear brothers, none of us knows whether our finish line is at 26 or 86.

The question is not simply how long you get.

The question is what you do with what you are given.

Do not just admire him. Enter the race.

This is where I want to finish.

Because it would be very easy for us to share Idris's pictures for a few weeks.

Talk about what an amazing brother he was.

Say how inspirational his story is.

And then return to exactly the same life.

What would be the point?

If you take anything from his life, take this:

Rectify what is between you and Allah.

Protect your obligations.

Make your intention sincere.

Dedicate what remains of your life to something greater than yourself.

Serve the deen.

Be there for your parents.

Go home to your wife.

Give your children your presence.

If an organisation needs your skill and you have the capacity, contribute.

If the opportunity looks small, do not belittle it.

If the opportunity looks big, do not run away from it.

Do not wait until you feel important enough.

Do not wait until the perfect moment.

Enter the race.

Perhaps that is one of the greatest lessons Idris has left us.

When we invited him to help establish the vision of the Rijal Club, we thought we were asking him to help us find the words.

Looking back, the words were almost secondary.

The man standing in front of us was showing us something of the answer.

May Allah forgive our brother Idris, have mercy upon him, overlook his shortcomings and accept every good deed he performed.

May Allah make his grave spacious and full of light.

May Allah grant him al-Firdaws al-A'la.

May Allah place barakah, protection and righteous people around his wife and young daughter.

May Allah grant his parents and family sabr and comfort.

May Allah allow every young person he helped, every brother he supported, every project he contributed towards and every piece of goodness inspired by his life to continue bringing benefit to him after his death.

And may Allah make us men who are truthful to what we pledge to Him.

Men who do not simply speak. Men who stand. Men who serve. Men who act. Men who run towards good.

May Allah accept every step our brother Idris took towards Him — and give those of us still in the race the courage to follow through.