Riyā’ is one of the quietest diseases of the heart.

The prayer is performed. The charity is given. The Qur’an is recited. Outwardly, everything looks right.

But somewhere inside, the heart turns. Not fully toward Allah (swt), but toward the eyes of people.

This is why the Prophet ﷺ warned us so strongly about hidden shirk. Not because the deed disappears outwardly, but because its direction changes inwardly.

A deed meant for the King is offered to the crowd.

Imam Mawlūd points to signs we can recognize in ourselves. Alone, we drag our feet. Around others, we suddenly become energetic. When praised, we become consistent. When unnoticed, we slow down.

That is not the healthy encouragement of good company. That is dependence on applause.

And applause is a weak master.

The cure begins with certainty. No crowd can raise us unless Allah (swt) allows it. No critic can lower us unless Allah (swt) permits it. When this settles in the heart, the audience shrinks back to its true size.

People are witnesses. Allah is the One who accepts.

In our age, riyā’ has learned new clothing.

It can appear in the masjid as a sweeter recitation when someone respected enters. It can appear online as sharing worship “to inspire,” while secretly hoping to be admired. It can appear in study circles as chasing rare points, not to serve the truth, but to sound insightful.

Even service can be infected. Community work can become a path to influence instead of sacrifice.

But we should not abandon good deeds out of fear of riyā’. That is another trap. If we leave worship because of people, we are still centering people.

Instead, we keep acting and keep purifying.

We build a private portfolio with Allah (swt). A small prayer at night. A hidden charity. A page of Qur’an before dawn. A quiet du‘ā for someone who will never know.

Modern psychology echoes this wisdom. When people depend too heavily on external validation, their motivation becomes fragile. Research on self determination theory describes intrinsic motivation as more stable when actions are rooted in meaning, autonomy, and inner commitment rather than external reward.

Ikhlāṣ is not only a spiritual safeguard. It is strength.

True sincerity is not a passing feeling. It is a discipline.

We do the deed. We return it to Allah. We keep something hidden. And slowly, the heart remembers its rightful audience.

Reflect on this:

In which setting do my deeds change most between private and public, and what one adjustment will make them the same?

^{Share your reflections in the poll at the end of the email.}