I distinctly remember an incident that had a lasting impact on me when I was around 11 or 12 years old. I was with my family staying at our cousin’s apartment while my cousin was outside in the hall with some friends. I, of course, stayed inside, not wanting to invite myself. By chance my cousin came and asked if I wanted to join him and his friends. I was hesitant at first but deep down really wanted to come, so I eagerly—yet nervously—tagged along. As I stepped outside the door I still remember smiling uneasily, wanting to just feel accepted and enjoy hanging out with others.

But as the door opened, my initial awkward smile quickly disappeared. I had barely taken a step outside when one of the boys saw me and immediately made a rude remark at my appearance, essentially mocking me in front of everyone else. It was complete rejection at a young age—at an age when one cannot make sense of one’s surroundings. He made fun of my nose which, as a result of an unsuccessful surgery at age 6, now appeared deformed. My family would tell me they barely noticed it but virtually everyone else and kids at school who constantly made fun of me seemed to see it just fine.

I did not want my cousin’s friends to make fun of me. I had enough people doing that to me in school. Extremely upset and disappointed, I hung my head down, not even bothering to look straight, and cussed back at the boy. He returned the favor. As we continued to exchange extensive grade 5 vocabulary insults, at some point I decided not to talk to anyone anymore and simply made my way into the apartment.

I wanted to be in a place where people at least put up with how I looked even if they disliked it. So I entered the apartment and went into the corner of one of the rooms, feeling embarrassed of how I looked, who I was, and what purpose I was serving on this cold planet. This was not a one-time incident; by now I was used to hearing insults, but I could not adjust to the pain those insults brought with them.

But much to my surprise, the kids in the hall had all come back. The older brother of the boy who made fun of me came to apologize. He insisted his brother was an “idiot” and wanted me to come back and join them. I just kept saying “No, no. It’s okay, I’m not upset. I just don’t want to.”

Finally everyone left and there I was alone. Alone–a place that always welcomed me.

The incident left a very sour taste in my mouth. This was not like those days when a kid at my school would throw a basketball at the back of my head to make others laugh or laugh himself. It was not like those days when I would be at a wedding while adults stared at me with what seemed like pity and sometimes even disgust. It was not like those days when my best friend would make fun of me to raise his status amongst the cool kids at school. No, this time the pain felt different.

All I wanted to do that night was belong to a group that accepted me for the way I was and the way I looked. I could not change my appearance; I just wanted to feel welcomed, play with the guys that night and feel a part of a group for once. I did not want to be alone. I did not want to be left out.

I had tried and tried to fit in on many occasions before, but since I could not change my appearance, I was rejected again and again. And the more effort I put into fitting in, the worse the rejection felt. So it was at this point where I told myself, “I don’t want to try anymore.”

This is a moment I hope no one, especially those who are young, ever succumbs to. I did not want to try anymore, and I really meant it. Essentially I gave up on life. I gave up on people. I gave up trying to look for good in this world. I even gave up thinking there was any good in this world. For people like me—I convinced myself that night—there was no good! It caused me anger, resentment and disregard for others. These feelings would only grow from there. I became extremely anti-social. I figured at that point the pain I felt when trying to fit in was not worth the hassle, so perhaps if I stayed away from people altogether I would not feel that way anymore. My room became a sanctuary where I could always go and know no one would push me out and make me feel unwanted.

I hope no one ever has to face a time like this.

Things did change, however. I had surgery to repair the issue on my nose. Starting a couple years after that and continuing well into my adulthood, I now feel that I talk too much at times! But I wrote this piece because strangely enough, I found Allah’s love and company through incidents like these. If anyone has the right to complain about life being unfair, then I think I would be one of them. But today I have no complaints, and as an adult I am actually glad I went through these experiences.

The pain that these experiences brought never made sense to me until adulthood. But if it were not for this pain, I would not know what rejection felt like. I would not know what a shattered heart felt like. I would not know what days and nights of unbearable loneliness felt like. And perhaps I would never have come to know my purpose on what sometimes can be a very cold planet.

I always had a wish to grow up and help others. How else could I understand or relate to someone’s struggle if I had not experienced it myself? I decided to go into counseling or teaching after I finish college so as to put what I learned to good use.

This is why it is so important for us all to think positively of God, because only then will one find the gems hidden in the most difficult trials of their life. You may not see the fruits of your labor or even why you were put through such difficult trials until perhaps years later. But based on my own firsthand experience, I can say with certainty it is never unfair. In fact, it is always worth it.

Watching ourselves or people we love in hardship, or losing their faith, is such a test in and of itself. If we are connected, even if ‘only’ by the string of humanity between our hearts, then their suffering must pain our own hearts.

I remember in college, I had a role model. He was a few years older. He was the ideal. Not too strict, not too lenient upon himself, but upon others he just had so much love. If you wanted to find him during breaks, you would just have to listen for a beautiful recitation of Qur’an and follow the sound waves to find where he was sitting. He did not do this out of a strong zeal that made him rush around doing things that were above his ability, rather his heart truly found its home in the words of God and in working towards His way.

One year after graduation, everything changed. There are many deep reasons why they changed, but I will just say that something took hold of his heart and shook him. He woke up one morning looking at who he had been before, and how his life had been, and then looked at the current state of his life, and there seemed to him to be such a contradiction–such a stark difference. He found no other way but to drop the spiritual cloaks he had been wrapped in and step backwards into an abyss.

It is shaking to hear the story, but it was even more shocking to witness it. To feel it. To feel broken just as his heart was broken before all of his friends. There is no other way to explain it. It is like when a baby cries because he is feeling pain, and a baby nearby begins to sob as well–just as hard, but having no idea why she is crying. She just saw the tears of someone like her, the pain in the eyes of her kin, and decided that if it was that bad, that if he was crying, she had no choice but to cry.

And sometimes, it is easier to soothe the baby that knows why he is crying, because perhaps he just needs to be fed. Maybe some medicine for his tummy. But his cousin who cried, simply because she heard him crying, well it’s very hard to comfort her. It takes calming and soothing. It takes time and patience, until she is convinced that whatever harm was present, whatever shaking force was present – the one she neither saw nor felt – is actually gone.

Like was said in the last article on istiqama, it all goes back to patience and prayer. Be it when dealing with our own hardships, or the effect of the hardships of others on our own soul. Not just to have patience, not just to pray—but to seek assistance in patience and prayer. To run to sujud (prostration) when we begin to cave in, be it from our own experience or from an experience through someone else’s eyes and heart. It is about praying with our hearts in our hands. Handing over our hearts to the One who created the hearts–the One who controls the hearts, the One who heals the hearts.

A few months ago, I was sitting outside the masjid (mosque). It had been a while since I had been out of the house, as I had been really sick for a while, unable to get out of bed except for trips to the doctor. Finally, on a day when I felt strong enough to go out, I had my brother take me to the masjid. I wanted to be there at maghrib, to hear the Imam (leader of prayer) at that specific masjid recite the Qur’an, as people stood and bowed and placed their heads on the floor before Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala (exalted is He), things that for the most part I had not been able to do for quite some time.

I took a moment to sit on the benches outside, just to take it all in. The recitation, the beauty of the masjid, and the birds that sing and dance as they perform their own prayer right before and after sunset. The reciter began to read an aya (verse) that I have memorized and have recited time and time and time again—yet never really heard. At least not in that manner.

He said:

واستعينوا بالصبر والصلاة وإنها لكبيرة إلا على الخاشعين

الذين يظنون أنهم ملاقو ربهم وأنهم إليه راجعون

“And seek help through patience and prayer, and indeed, it is difficult except for the humbly submissive [to Allah ]. Who are certain that they will meet their Lord and that they will return to Him.” (Qur’an, 2:45-46)

My initial reaction to this was literally, “Allahu Akbar! (God is Great!)” I want to try and take you all through the thoughts that I had at that time, but, I must warn, the thoughts in my mind are not always easy to navigate.

Throughout my sickness and even before then, I had constantly been reciting the verses that come later in surat Al Baqarah, the ones that began with a calling to those who believe. “Oh you who believe, seek assistance in patience and prayer. Indeed Allah is with the patient [sabireen].” (Qur’an, 2:153) A further description of who the “patient” are comes after a description of types of hardship that can and will befall us: “And We will surely test you with something of fear and hunger and a loss of wealth and lives and fruits, but give good tidings to the patient [sabireen],” (Qur’an, 2:155)

Who are the sabirun in these verses? “Who, when disaster strikes them, say, “Indeed we belong to Allah, and indeed to Him we will return.”” (Qur’an, 2:156)

So at that moment, I was mentally toggling between two groups of verses. They are so interrelated, and yet so different. One thing to note here is that I am a big believer that there are no such things as coincidences. Literally none. And even more so, there is a hikmah (wisdom) in everything. So, in the Qur’an, the first group of verses precede the second. When reading the Qur’an, you must pass through the first group of verses in order to get to the second.

There has got to be a great wisdom in that.

So I began to think about the nature of these verses themselves. I am not diving into tafsir (interpretation of the Qur’an) here, I am diving into a world of beauties that occurred within me when reading the verses.

The first group of verses mention that we should seek assistance in patience and prayer. It then makes a major statement: this is definitely difficult on all except for the khashi`een. We do not then hear of rewards or of the fruits of patience. We do not even hear of the sabireen. We first hear of the khashi`een.

The immediate thought that comes to mind when reading this verse is, “What is someone who is humbled before God (khashi`)?”

Perhaps some people can be given the gift of being humbled before God instantly. A flower that blossoms in their heart that is easily reached and not striven for. Perhaps it is through a major blessing that is given to a person and opens their eyes. But for many of us, that is not how being humbled is reached. Being humbled is reached by being broken. Being torn apart in ways that we did not know we could be. Being shattered in parts we did not know could be shattered. And then finally, coming to the realization that God is Greater than everything. I am weak, He is the Source of all Strength. I am poor, He is the Source of all Rizq. He is, and I am not. I am only even in existence because of one word: kun (be)—and so I was. 

Getting to that point is rather painful and stressful, and just plain hard. But when we get to that point, we realize with our hearts that we will meet our Lord and will return to Him, even before our lips utter the words in hardship—because here we had to go through the stormy seas of tests and trials to reach that conclusion.

Only then are we ready to read the next group of verses. The one that does not talk about the process, the person having to be humbled. The verses speak about those who are already sabireen. It is as if this sabr is something that runs through their veins. A cup within their heart that has already been filled because of all they have seen before. And it does not talk about how hard this is going to be, because at that point sabr is not hard because the sabir knows that Allah (swt) is with them. (Does that mean that Allah was not with them through the previous test? No, not at all. But the sabir knows it with their heart and not just their mind now).

And then after all that, after the descriptions of the trials that will come and the words that will be spoken from the lips, coming from a spring in the heart, we find this beautiful verse:

أولئك عليهم صلوات من ربهم ورحمة وأولئك هم المهتدون

“Those are the ones upon whom are blessings from their Lord and mercy. And it is those who are the [rightly] guided.”

Notice the word I have emphasized—I imagine that if someone were to open the heart of a person who had the words of Allah (swt) inscribed in his heart, not just memorized, that this word would shine forth with a great light. These people, the sabirun, have upon them salawat (blessings) and rahma (mercy). It is not that blessings and mercy are given to them. They are poured upon them.

It is the difference between giving someone a glass of water, and sending them outside to stand in the rain. If blessings and mercy were given to the sabir, the sabir may or may not choose to accept it. They may choose to hold it in their hand. And then they may choose to drink from it. But here the sabir has no choice; they are pushed out into a pouring rain of mercy and blessings, not given the chance to think or refuse, and drops of mercy and blessings pour down upon this sabir, soaking their clothes, soaking their skin. It is inescapably beautiful.

We think that it is going to be easy—to just hold on and that sabr will come naturally, or that it is the immediate reaction that we are going to have. But it is not going to be easy. We must seek assistance from Him to give us the gift of being khashi`, to give us the gift of knowing we are going to return to Him. And only then will we be able to seek assistance in patience and prayer with ease, because it has become a part of us. And once we are able to do that, by the assistance of Allah (swt), we are rewarded by a downpour of so much more than we ever expected.

But even after submitting to Allah (swt), we have to be sure to have patience, not just with what is going on in our and the lives of others around us, but with that which is occurring within us. This is a lesson that has been written about in many ways before, but can also be seen in the sunnah of Allah (swt), for example how the fetus is created in the mother’s womb.

Allah (swt) describes to us the steps that one goes through in creation: Each one of us begins as a nutfah (a drop of fluid), then proceeds to become a `alaqah (a clinging clot), and finally a mudghah (a lump that looks as if it has been chewed). And all of these stages occur even before the spirit has been blown into the creation. Al-Qaari says that there are many wisdoms we can take from even this description. He says that Allah (swt), beyond any doubt, has the ability to create anything in one moment, but this was not the path that He chose. Instead, as a mercy upon the mother and a sign for those who ponder, He caused us to be created step-by-step, and made us aware of this.

And beyond a doubt, at the time that we were being formed and created, we had no idea what was going on. We had no control over what was happening, nor did our mother who was carrying within her the gift of a child. Yet she watched, and was patient for nine months. She went through struggles and difficulties, the most intense being the last push before the child she awaited with so much excitement was pushed out of her womb. Sure, there were difficult times, times when she thought she could not take the changes going on inside her. Perhaps there were times when she felt that she would not make it through, but in the end, it was all worth it.

And in creation is a sign for those who reflect. Whether the struggles in your life are external, like watching a friend or family member struggle, or internal, where you feel like your internal core, your internal structure is crumbling beyond any possible expectation, know this: it is not over. It is not futile. Gold is only purified by being placed in intense heat. Diamonds are only formed when coal is placed under extreme pressure. All that is asked of you is this: Seek assistance in patience and prayer, and remember: Allah (swt) is with those who are patient.

(c) Rehan Shaikh

Trials. At times they are overwhelming. As soon as we get through one, another one seems to simply be waiting for us. Time and time again they pull us backward, and sometimes they slam us flat on our faces not even allowing time for our hands to flail as we fall. They seem never ending, and sometimes it’s just hard to even comprehend why we are going through such things. At the end of the day, we are left in a daze, asking the only question that seems fit: ‘When will this all be over?’ And then we sit, waiting for the answer, hoping that it will come soon.

In the Book of Guidance, which is unlike any other book, Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala (exalted is He) speaks to us about such trying times. He knows what is in our souls and He knows the tests and trials that we go through. He knows how we feel in these trying times and He knows exactly what we are thinking, what we are asking.

Allah (swt) says:

“Do you think that you will enter Paradise while such [trial] has not yet come to you as came to those who passed on before you?” (Qur’an 2:214)

Believe it or not, this is not something new. Throughout history, our ancestors have faced trials and have had to fight through tests. They had goals and visions and wanted to see them through, just as we do. They had family problems and life problems. They failed and they had to figure out how to pick themselves back up after falling. And even though at times we feel that maybe they were stronger than us, perhaps they just knew how to handle things better and they weren’t so affected by the rollercoaster of life; the truth is, it affected them too. Allah (swt) tells us that it did:

They were touched by poverty and hardship and were shaken until [even their] messenger and those who believed with him said, “When will the help of Allah [come] ?” (Qur’an 2:214)

They were shaken to their core. They wanted the help, or victory, of Allah to come. They were so tired of going through the tests they were facing. They knew they were weak and that their pain and hurt would not be alleviated until Allah (swt) helped them out of their predicament. And so just like us, they asked, “When will the help of Allah come?”

They wanted to know when all this pain and hardship would be over. And Allah (swt) answered them beautifully. Not only did He answer them, but He also answered you and me. He directed his statement to all of us, letting us know that we too have hope:

“Unquestionably, the help of Allah is near.” (Qur’an 2:214)

Don’t give up. Hold on tight, and realize that the help of Allah (swt) is nearer than you realize. Turn to Him, ask of Him and He will answer.