بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمـَنِ الرَّحِيمِ
وَعَسَىٰٓ أَن تَكْرَهُوا۟ شَيْـًۭٔا وَهُوَ خَيْرٌۭ لَّكُمْ ۖ
وَعَسَىٰٓ أَن تُحِبُّوا۟ شَيْـًۭٔا وَهُوَ شَرٌّۭ لَّكُمْ ۗ
وَٱللَّهُ يَعْلَمُ وَأَنتُمْ لَا تَعْلَمُونَ
wa ʿasā an tuḥibbū shay’an wa huwa sharrun lakum
wa Allāhu yaʿlamu wa antum lā taʿlamūn
“Perhaps you dislike something and it is good for you; and perhaps you love something and it is bad for you. Allah knows, and you do not know.”
Sūrat al-Baqarah 2:216
- Is Allah aware of my situation?
- Does He know what this is doing to my heart?
- Does He know what is best for me?
- Does He have the power to change it?
- Does He have the mercy to choose what is truly good for me?
- Is He wise in what He allows?
- Is He just in what He decrees?
- Does He waste pain?
These are not cold questions.
They are questions that come at night. They come when the house is quiet and the heart is not. They come when a person has made duʿā and the door still looks closed. They come when the loss is not poetic. When the illness is not short. When the child is not improving. When the provision is not arriving. When the person who hurt us seems to have gone on with life. When the thing we feared has already happened.
And sometimes the nafs says:
“Why this?”
But īmān asks first:
“Who allowed this to reach me?”
That is the difference.
The āyah above is not telling us that pain does not hurt. It is not telling the wounded person to smile like a stone. It is not saying that grief is a lack of īmān.
It is saying something more serious.
Your dislike is real. But it is not complete knowledge.
Your pain is real. But it is not the whole story.
Your fear is real. But it is not revelation.
Allah knows. And you do not know.
This is not humiliation. It is mercy. It is the lifting of a burden too heavy for us. We do not have to pretend to understand every wound. We do not have to explain every closed door. We do not have to see the future before trusting the One who owns it.
We only need to remember who He is.
Hajar in the Valley
There is a sentence that should be written inside the heart of every person who feels abandoned.
Hajar عليها السلام was left in a barren valley with her infant son. No people. No water. No visible future. No shade of a city. No neighbour to call. No marketplace. No clinic. No grandmother nearby to hold the child while the mother breathes for a moment. Only a valley. A mother. A baby. A small amount of food and water. And then even that water finished.
The Qur’anic mentions the duʿā of Ibrāhīm عليه السلام:
رَّبَّنَآ إِنِّىٓ أَسْكَنتُ مِن ذُرِّيَّتِى بِوَادٍ غَيْرِ ذِى زَرْعٍ
عِندَ بَيْتِكَ ٱلْمُحَرَّمِ
Rabbanā innī askantu min dhurriyyatī bi-wādin ghayri dhī zarʿin
ʿinda baytika al-muḥarram
“Our Lord, I have settled some of my offspring in a barren valley near Your Sacred House.”
Sūrat Ibrāhīm 14:37
Barren valley. This is the Qur’an’s own description. Not a valley with hidden gardens. Not a valley with almost enough. Not a valley with obvious signs of future greatness.
A barren valley.
But Hajar asked the right question.
Not first: “How much water is left?”
Not first: “How long will this last?”
Not first: “What will people say?”
She asked Ibrāhīm عليه السلام whether Allah had commanded him to do this. When she knew that it was from Allah, she said: “Then He will not neglect us.”
This is the whole matter.
If Allah knows, He has not neglected. If Allah commanded, He has not abandoned. If Allah placed me here, He sees me here.
But notice something.
Hajar did not sit. She ran. She ran between Ṣafā and Marwah. Again and again. A mother running with the kind of running that only a desperate mother understands. Tawakkul did not make her passive. Trust did not cancel effort. Īmān did not remove the movement of her feet.
And Allah answered.
Not only with a cup of water. With Zamzam.
Not only with survival. With Makkah.
Not only with relief for one mother. With a ritual that millions of believers would repeat until the end of time.
This is Allah.
A woman runs in a valley because her child is thirsty, and Allah makes her running part of ḥajj.
So when the heart says, “No one sees me,” remember Hajar.
Allah saw her before anyone came. Allah heard her before Jurhum arrived. Allah knew Zamzam before the earth opened. Allah knew Makkah when the valley still looked empty. The valley was barren.
But the decree was not barren.
Ayyūb and the Adab of Pain
There is pain that makes a person speak too much. There is pain that makes a person silent in a dangerous way. And there is pain that learns how to speak to Allah.
Ayyūb عليه السلام was touched by suffering. The Qur’an does not give us all the details people often want. It gives us what the heart needs.
وَأَيُّوبَ إِذْ نَادَىٰ رَبَّهُۥٓ
أَنِّى مَسَّنِىَ ٱلضُّرُّ
وَأَنتَ أَرْحَمُ ٱلرَّٰحِمِينَ
Wa Ayyūba idh nādā rabbahū
annī massaniyaḍ-ḍurru
wa anta arḥamu ar-rāḥimīn
“And Ayyūb, when he called to his Lord: ‘Harm has touched me, and You are the Most Merciful of those who show mercy.’”
Sūrat al-Anbiyā’ 21:83
What a duʿā. No accusation. No protest to Allah. No list of merits. No sentence beginning with, “After all I have done…”
Only two things.
The wound. And the mercy of Allah.
“Harm has touched me.” He names the pain.
“You are the Most Merciful of those who show mercy.” He names Allah.
This is adab.
Ayyūb عليه السلام teaches us that a servant can say, “I am hurt,” without saying, “My Lord has wronged me.”
This matters.
Some people think patience means never naming the pain. That is not true. Ayyūb named it. Yaʿqūb named it. The Qur’an preserved their words. The problem is not saying, “I am in pain.” The problem is when the pain becomes a judge over Allah. There is a difference between complaining to Allah and complaining against Allah. Ayyūb complained to Allah.
And Allah answered:
فَٱسْتَجَبْنَا لَهُۥ
فَكَشَفْنَا مَا بِهِۦ مِن ضُرٍّۢ
“We answered him and removed the harm that was upon him.”
Sūrat al-Anbiyā’ 21:84
The relief came from the One he had called Merciful before the relief appeared. That is faith.
To call Allah merciful while the wound is still open.
Umm Salamah and the Future She Could Not Imagine
Sometimes the test is not only losing what we love. It is being unable to imagine any good after it.
When Abū Salamah رضي الله عنه died, Umm Salamah رضي الله عنها was taught the duʿā of calamity:
إنّاَ للهِ وإنَّا إِلَيْهِ رَاجِعُونَ اللَّهُمَّ أجِرْنِي فِي مُصِيبَتي وأَخْلِفْ لِي خَيْراً مِنْها
Innā lillāhi wa innā ilayhi rājiʿūn.
Allāhumma’jurnī fī muṣībatī, wakhluf lī khayran minhā.
“We belong to Allah and to Him we return. O Allah, reward me in my calamity and replace it for me with something better.”
This duʿā is inspired from the Qur’anic:
ٱلَّذِينَ إِذَآ أَصَـٰبَتْهُم مُّصِيبَةٌۭ
قَالُوٓا۟ إِنَّا لِلَّهِ
وَإِنَّآ إِلَيْهِ رَٰجِعُونَ
Alladhīna idhā aṣābat-hum muṣībah
qālū innā lillāh
wa innā ilayhi rājiʿūn
“Those who, when struck by calamity, say: Surely we belong to Allah, and to Him we return.”
Sūrat al-Baqarah 2:156
This sentence is not only for death.
It is for every moment when the servant remembers: I am not the owner. I am owned. I did not come from myself. I am not returning to myself. I came from Allah, I belong to Allah, and I am going back to Allah.
Umm Salamah made the duʿā. But her heart wondered: who could be better than Abū Salamah?
This is very human.
There are losses after which the future feels insulting. People say, “Allah will give better,” and the heart says, “But I loved this. I knew this. This was my life.”
The heart cannot imagine. But Allah is not limited by the heart’s imagination. Allah later gave her marriage to the Messenger of Allah ﷺ. This does not mean every loss will be replaced in the same shape. It does not mean every widow will marry someone greater. It does not mean every wound will receive an answer that people can point to in this world.
It means this: Do not make your imagination the border of Allah’s generosity.
Umm Salamah could not imagine the next mercy.
But Allah had already written it.
Yaʿqūb, Yūsuf, and the Story That Was Not Over
There are stories that look finished because we are reading them from the middle.
Yūsuf عليه السلام was thrown into the well. If you paused the story there, you would say: betrayal. Then he was sold. Pause there, and you would say: humiliation. Then he was tempted and falsely accused. Pause there, and you would say: injustice. Then he was imprisoned. Pause there, and you would say: forgotten.
But the Qur’an says:
وَٱللَّهُ غَالِبٌ عَلَىٰٓ أَمْرِهِۦ
وَلَـٰكِنَّ أَكْثَرَ ٱلنَّاسِ لَا يَعْلَمُونَ
Wallāhu ghālibun ʿalā amrihī
walākinna akthara an-nāsi lā yaʿlamūn
“Allah’s command always prevails, but most people do not know.”
Sūrat Yūsuf 12:21
Most people do not know.
This sentence explains so much of life.
The brothers did not know. The caravan did not know. The minister’s house did not know. The prison did not know. Even Yūsuf عليه السلام, while walking through the events, was living the story before seeing its shape.
And Yaʿqūb عليه السلام? He grieved. He grieved so deeply that his sorrow affected his sight. But he did not turn grief into accusation. He said:
إِنَّمَآ أَشْكُوا۟ بَثِّى وَحُزْنِىٓ إِلَى ٱللَّهِ
وَأَعْلَمُ مِنَ ٱللَّهِ مَا لَا تَعْلَمُونَ
Innamā ashkū baththī wa ḥuznī ilā Allāh
wa aʿlamu min Allāhi mā lā taʿlamūn
“I only complain of my anguish and sorrow to Allah, and I know from Allah what you do not know.”
Sūrat Yūsuf 12:86
This is one of the most beautiful sentences of grief. Not “I have no sorrow.” Not “I am above sadness.” Not “It does not hurt.”
No.
“My anguish and my sorrow.” But where does he carry them? To Allah. That is the difference. Then at the end, when Yūsuf عليه السلام sees the hidden weaving of the years, he says:
إِنَّ رَبِّى لَطِيفٌۭ لِّمَا يَشَآءُ
إِنَّهُۥ هُوَ ٱلْعَلِيمُ ٱلْحَكِيمُ
Inna rabbī laṭīfun limā yashā’
innahū huwa al-ʿalīmu al-ḥakīm
“My Lord is subtle in fulfilling what He wills. He is the All-Knowing, the All-Wise.”
Sūrat Yūsuf 12:100
Subtle.
Not always loud. Not always immediate. Not always clear to us. Allah’s luṭf may be moving quietly beneath the floor of events. It may be moving through the well, the market, the prison, the delay, the forgotten message, the painful separation. A servant may be crying in chapter three while Allah is preparing the mercy of chapter one hundred.
Do not judge the Author while you are still in the middle of the page, let alone middle of the book.
Mūsā and the Damaged Ship
There is a story in Sūrat al-Kahf that should make us careful with our first reading of events.
Mūsā عليه السلام travels with the servant of Allah. He sees him damage a ship. From the outside, this looks wrong. Poor people own the ship. They work at sea. And now their ship has been harmed. Mūsā objects. And he is Mūsā. A prophet. A messenger. A man who spoke to Allah. Yet even he did not know the hidden reason until Allah revealed it through His servant.
The Qur’anic wisdom comes later:
أَمَّا ٱلسَّفِينَةُ فَكَانَتْ لِمَسَـٰكِينَ
يَعْمَلُونَ فِى ٱلْبَحْرِ
فَأَرَدتُّ أَنْ أَعِيبَهَا
وَكَانَ وَرَآءَهُم مَّلِكٌۭ
يَأْخُذُ كُلَّ سَفِينَةٍ غَصْبًۭا
Ammā as-safīnatu fa-kānat li-masākīn
yaʿmalūna fī al-baḥr
fa-aradtu an aʿībahā
wa kāna warā’ahum malikun
ya’khudhu kulla safīnatin ghaṣbā
“As for the ship, it belonged to poor people working at sea. I intended to damage it, for there was a king ahead of them seizing every ship by force.”
Sūrat al-Kahf 18:79
A damaged ship. But saved from seizure. A scratch. But not destruction.
This story is not permission for us to harm people and then claim hidden wisdom. No. We are servants under the Sharīʿah. We are accountable for our actions.
The lesson is not about what we are allowed to do. The lesson is about what we are not able to see.
A person may say: “My ship has been damaged.”
And perhaps it has. But maybe there is a king ahead.
A door closes. A plan fails. A relationship ends. A delay humiliates the nafs. A path is blocked. And the servant sees only the damage.
But Allah knows the tyrant ahead.
This does not mean every pain will be explained to us in this life. Mūsā was told. We may not be told. That is part of the test. But Sūrat al-Kahf trains the heart to become less arrogant in its first reading. Not every damage is destruction.
Sometimes Allah allows a scratch to save the ship.
Hudaybiyyah and the Victory That Did Not Look Like Victory
Sometimes victory comes wearing the clothes of defeat.
At Ḥudaybiyyah, the Muslims were stopped from entering Makkah that year. The treaty terms felt painful to many of the Companions. There was love, loyalty, sacrifice, longing, and then a document that seemed to give too much away.
ʿUmar رضي الله عنه struggled with it. His questions were the questions of a sincere heart in pain, unable to understand why truth should accept such terms.
The Prophet ﷺ answered with the calm of revelation: He is the Messenger of Allah. He does not disobey Allah. Allah will grant him victory.
Then Allah revealed:
إِنَّا فَتَحْنَا لَكَ فَتْحًۭا مُّبِينًۭا
Innā fataḥnā laka fatḥan mubīnā
“Indeed, We have granted you a clear victory.”
Sūrat al-Fatḥ 48:1
Clear victory.
But it did not feel clear at first. This is why Ḥudaybiyyah is so important for the heart. It teaches us that the first feeling of an event is not always its true name. The Companions saw restriction. Allah named it opening. The Companions saw delay. Allah named it victory. The Companions saw painful terms. Allah had placed inside those terms the road to Makkah.
So perhaps the heart should say:
I may be standing at Ḥudaybiyyah while Allah is already opening Makkah.
Not every delay is denial. Not every painful treaty is loss. Not every humiliation of the nafs is humiliation of the soul.
Sometimes Allah is making a road that we would never have chosen because we did not know where it led.
Rābiʿa and the Provider Who Knows
There is also a hikāyah told about Rābiʿa al-ʿAdawiyyah رحمها الله.
It is not a hadith. It is not a proof in fiqh. It is one of those stories from the language of zuhd and taṣawwuf that must sit beneath the Qur’an and Sunnah, not above them. But it has a sentence that belongs to this subject. Malik bin Dīnār is said to have visited her and seen the poverty of her room. A broken pitcher. An old mat. A brick for a pillow. He was moved and offered to ask wealthy people to help her.
She asked him whether she and they had the same Provider. He said yes.
Then she asked, in meaning: Has He forgotten the poor because of their poverty? Does He favour the wealthy because of their wealth? Then she said that since Allah knows her condition, what need is there to remind Him? What He wills, she wills.
The Qur’anic asks:
أَلَا يَعْلَمُ مَنْ خَلَقَ
وَهُوَ ٱللَّطِيفُ ٱلْخَبِيرُ
Alā yaʿlamu man khalaq
wa huwa al-Laṭīfu al-Khabīr
“How could He not know His Own creation? He is the Most Subtle, the All-Aware.”
Sūrat al-Mulk 67:14
Again, we must be careful. The Sunnah teaches us to make duʿā. It teaches us to seek help. It teaches us to accept lawful provision. It teaches us to take the means. So we do not take this hikāyah as a rule that everyone should refuse help.
No.
That would be another mistake. The story is about a state of heart. A heart so aware that Allah knows, that its poverty does not feel unseen. A heart so aware that Allah provides, that it does not think the rich are closer to Allah’s attention than the poor. A heart so aware that Allah is al-Laṭīf and al-Khabīr, that even a broken pitcher is not outside His knowledge.
Perhaps we are not Rābiʿa. But we can learn from the question.
Has Allah forgotten me because I am hidden? No.
Has Allah overlooked me because others seem to have more? No.
Does Allah know this room, this bill, this sickness, this fear, this private grief? Yes.
How could He not know His Own creation?
What These Stories Are Not Saying
We must be careful.
These stories are not saying:
Do not grieve. Yaʿqūb grieved.
They are not saying:
Do not ask for relief. Ayyūb asked.
They are not saying:
Do not take action. Hajar ran.
They are not saying:
Do not use wisdom and means. The Prophet ﷺ negotiated at Ḥudaybiyyah.
They are not saying:
Do not say the calamity hurts. The Qur’an itself names fear, hunger, loss of wealth, loss of life, and loss of fruits.
Islam is not numbness. Islam is surrender. There is a difference.
Numbness says: “I do not feel.” Surrender says: “I feel, but I do not accuse Allah.”
Numbness says: “It does not matter.” Surrender says: “It matters, but Allah matters more.”
Numbness kills the heart. Surrender gives the heart somewhere to fall.
In a Home and a School
This belongs in a school too.
Not as a heavy lecture to children about suffering. Not as a way to silence their feelings. But as a gentle architecture of faith.
A child loses a game and thinks the day is ruined. A child is corrected and thinks the teacher dislikes him. A child struggles with reading and thinks he is stupid. A child is not chosen and thinks he has no worth. A child waits and thinks waiting is punishment.
This is where character is built.
Not only in assemblies. Not only in slogans on walls. But in the small moment when the child learns that discomfort is not abandonment.
The teacher sees. The parent sees. And above every seeing, Allah sees.
We can teach children to ask better questions.
Not only: “Why did this happen?”
But also:
“What can I become through this?” “What is Allah teaching me?” “What is the next right action?” “Can I be sad without becoming ungrateful?” “Can I ask for help without losing trust?” “Can I try again?”
A school that teaches this has given more than information. It has given a child a way to carry life.
Because life will not always be soft. A child must learn how to be soft-hearted without being weak. Strong without being hard. Honest about pain without becoming bitter. Hopeful without being foolish.
This is tarbiyah.
The Questions Again
So perhaps today, when the heart becomes displeased, we should return to the questions.
- Is Allah aware of my situation? Yes.
أَلَا يَعْلَمُ مَنْ خَلَقَ
How could He not know the one He created?
- Does Allah know what is best for me? Yes.
وَٱللَّهُ يَعْلَمُ وَأَنتُمْ لَا تَعْلَمُونَ
Allah knows, and you do not know.
- Does Allah have the power to change it? Yes.
إِنَّمَآ أَمْرُهُۥٓ إِذَآ أَرَادَ شَيْـًٔا أَن يَقُولَ لَهُۥ كُن فَيَكُونُ
All it takes, when He wills something ˹to be˺, is simply to say to it: “Be!” And it is!
- Does Allah have mercy? Yes.
Ayyūb called Him the Most Merciful before the relief arrived.
- Is Allah wise? Yes.
Yūsuf saw at the end that his Lord is al-ʿAlīm, al-Ḥakīm.
- Can Allah bring provision from where I cannot imagine? Yes.
وَيَرْزُقْهُ مِنْ حَيْثُ لَا يَحْتَسِبُ
He provides from where the servant does not expect.
- Can Allah make a painful delay into an opening? Yes.
Ḥudaybiyyah was called a clear victory.
- Can Allah make a barren valley into Zamzam? Yes.
Hajar knows.
- Can Allah make a scratch save the ship? Yes.
Mūsā learned.
- Can Allah replace what I cannot imagine losing? Yes.
Umm Salamah knows.
Then what remains?
A servant who is still hurting. But not abandoned.
A servant who still does not understand. But is not unseen.
A servant who may still cry. But does not need to accuse.
The trial may be bitter. But the One who decreed it is not cruel.
The road may be hidden. But the One leading is not lost.
The relief may feel late. But the One timing it is never unaware.
Perhaps the heart should say:
Ya Allah, I do not understand this. But I know You. I do not know the wisdom. But I know You are Wise. I do not see the way out. But I know You are Able. I do not feel strong. But I know You are Merciful. I do not know what comes next. But I know I belong to You.
So do not leave me to my own reading of the story.
Teach me the patience of Hajar. The adab of Ayyūb. The grief of Yaʿqūb that still turns to You. The trust of Yūsuf in the prison before the throne. The humility of Mūsā when hidden wisdom was shown. The surrender of the Prophet ﷺ at Ḥudaybiyyah. The hope of Umm Salamah after loss. The awareness of Rābiʿa that You know the hidden room.
Do not make me a person who only trusts You when the valley is green. Make me a person who knows You even in the barren valley. And when I run between Ṣafā and Marwah, tired and afraid, let my heart remember:
The One who knows does not neglect.
Āmīn.
Source note
The central Qur’anic anchor is Sūrat al-Baqarah 2:216, especially “Allah knows and you do not know.” Quran.com gives the Arabic and translates the verse as teaching that a person may dislike something good for them or love something harmful to them.
The story of Hajar and Ismāʿīl عليهما السلام is in Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī 3364. The narration includes Hajar asking whether Allah commanded Ibrāhīm عليه السلام, her statement that Allah would not neglect them, her running between Ṣafā and Marwah, the appearance of Zamzam, and the angel’s reassurance that Allah does not neglect His people. The Qur’anic anchor is Sūrat Ibrāhīm 14:37.
The story of Ayyūb عليه السلام is anchored in Sūrat al-Anbiyā’ 21:83–84, where he calls upon Allah by saying that adversity has touched him and Allah is the Most Merciful of those who show mercy.
The story of Yaʿqūb and Yūsuf عليهما السلام is anchored in Sūrat Yūsuf 12:21, 12:86, and 12:100: Allah’s command prevails though most people do not know; Yaʿqūb complains of his sorrow only to Allah; and Yūsuf later names Allah as subtle in fulfilling what He wills, All-Knowing, All-Wise.
The damaged ship is from Sūrat al-Kahf 18:79, where the hidden reason is revealed: the ship belonged to poor people and was damaged to save it from a king who seized ships by force.
The story of Umm Salamah رضي الله عنها and the duʿā of calamity is reported in Riyāḍ aṣ-Ṣāliḥīn from Muslim. The Qur’anic anchor is Sūrat al-Baqarah 2:155–157, where Allah mentions tests of fear, hunger, loss, and the words “Innā lillāhi wa innā ilayhi rājiʿūn.”
The events of Ḥudaybiyyah are in Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī 2731–2732, including ʿUmar’s struggle to understand the treaty and the Prophet’s response that he does not disobey Allah and that Allah would grant victory. Sūrat al-Fatḥ 48:1 names it a clear victory, and Ibn Kathīr’s tafsīr identifies this āyah with the Treaty of Ḥudaybiyyah.
The Rābiʿa story is treated as hagiographical literature, not as hadith or legal proof. The version used here appears in the translated material hosted in Early Islamic Mysticism, where Malik Dīnār visits her and she speaks about Allah knowing her condition. The Qur’anic anchors are Sūrat al-Mulk 67:14 and Sūrat aṭ-Ṭalāq 65:3.
JazakaAllahu
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