IT WAS 5°C. Raining. Dark.
My son had dental surgery the day before, but he had fasted. He was tired, uncomfortable, and slow to put on his shoes.
“Hurry up, we’re getting late,” I called, determined that we wouldn’t miss the reward of Tarawih.
We arrived just in time for the first rak’ah of ’Isha. But because we were late, we were directed to the outbuilding, a tin-roofed shed with no side walls. The roof leaked in places. Parts of the floor were wet. Within minutes, our socks were soaked.
The wind pushed through the open sides. I pulled my hood tighter and felt my nose go numb.
And then a thought crossed my mind.
SubhanAllah.
Here I was, uncomfortable. Cold feet. Cold face.
But safe.
At that very moment, what did Tarawih look like in Gaza? Cold there too. Rain there too. Masajid reduced to rubble. Families praying in ruins, or not knowing if they would make it to the next salah without fear.
I was shivering.
But I was safe.
As the imam began reciting from the second juz, Surah al-Baqarah, the theme was unmistakable.
يَا أَيُّهَا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا اسْتَعِينُوا بِالصَّبْرِ وَالصَّلَاةِ ۚ إِنَّ اللَّهَ مَعَ الصَّابِرِينَ
O you who believe, seek help through patience and prayer. Indeed, Allah is with the patient. (153)
Then, a few ayat later:
وَلَنَبْلُوَنَّكُم بِشَيْءٍ مِّنَ الْخَوْفِ وَالْجُوعِ وَنَقْصٍ مِّنَ الْأَمْوَالِ وَالْأَنفُسِ وَالثَّمَرَاتِ ۗ وَبَشِّرِ الصَّابِرِينَ
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… (155)
Fear. Loss. Hardship. Grief. The Qur’an does not romanticise faith. It prepares us for reality, and promises mercy for those who respond with: Indeed, we belong to Allah, and to Him we return.
وَالصَّابِرِينَ فِي الْبَأْسَاءِ وَالضَّرَّاءِ وَحِينَ الْبَأْسِ ۗ أُولَٰئِكَ الَّذِينَ صَدَقُوا
…those who are patient in poverty and hardship and during battle. Those are the ones who have been true. (177)
أَمْ حَسِبْتُمْ أَن تَدْخُلُوا الْجَنَّةَ وَلَمَّا يَأْتِكُم مَّثَلُ الَّذِينَ خَلَوْا مِن قَبْلِكُم ۖ مَّسَّتْهُمُ الْبَأْسَاَءُ وَالضَّرَّاءُ وَزُلْزِلُوا
Or do you think that you will enter Paradise while such trial has not yet come to you as came to those before you? They were shaken… (214)
Shaken. But not broken.
Standing in that cold shed, my discomfort shrank. It wasn’t hardship. It was inconvenience. A small thing. And yet something about that smallness made it cut deeper.
We live cushioned lives. Heated homes. Warm cars. The default is ease. And ease is a gift, but it can quietly dull something in us. We begin to feel that discomfort is an error, something to be corrected. We lose the instinct to simply endure.
But the Qur’an was never written for comfortable times only. It was revealed through hardship, carried through persecution, and preserved through sacrifice. Its promises are not for those who never struggled, they are for those who struggled and stayed.
That night wasn’t a test. It was a reminder. A minor, cold, wet-socked reminder that sabr is not a concept to be studied. It is a posture. Something you take up with your body, in the cold, when it would be easier to leave.
When we walked back to the car, my son hardly mentioned the cold. He talked about how beautiful the recitation was.
I didn’t say anything. I just drove.
Some nights give you exactly what you need without ever announcing themselves. You just have to stay long enough to receive it.
يَا أَيُّهَا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا اسْتَعِينُوا بِالصَّبْرِ وَالصَّلَاةِ ۚ إِنَّ اللَّهَ مَعَ الصَّابِرِينَ
Seek help through patience and prayer. Indeed, Allah is with the patient.
Living For Islam 