Skin-deep love

  

 A wife whose husband has thoughtlessly betrayed her a thousand times finds dire pain in forgiving. Even at the melody of her kneeling husband's sobs, her anger runs deep. He broke her. His love for her was mild and shallow enough to never be his internal compass for making her a priority. What kind of love is it that never touches the heart? What kind of love is this that never helps a husband grow gracious and heedful of his wife's delicate and sensitive nature? A fake, alleged love it is.

  

Our gracious creator has made us creatures of affection, spurred naturally by our likes and dislikes, driven by an intrinsic fuel towards the destinations that we personally choose. Our hearts are always overwhelmed by mad obsessions and love toward different things that we value and honor ranging from the most trivial to the most cherished like loving your wife, your parents, or your siblings. And in this soothing state of love, we summon the will for enduring the most troublesome circumstances for the sake of this person whose love has resurrected our bleak hearts.

  

And there is this deep kind of love that I confidently claim yet never undertake; an alleged love that resembles a carefully worded poem uttered by a husband who thrives upon infidelity; it is my love for Allah that seldom inspires me to make him a priority. And recently did I realize why my prayers for help have been as ineffective as the pleads for aid amidst the lands of the dead  

  

Like the husband who may justify his love for his wife by buying her roses or giving her a heartless kiss on the cheek, I sometimes justify my love for Allah by an effortless share on a social network, an act of charity or by a prolonged prayer after which I feel worthy of blessings and mercy. 

  

And to the surprise of my heart, the acts that are far more reflective of my love for my lord go unattended for; opportunities for an expression of love that remain unexploited. And I can only imagine how that is perceived in the eyes of Allah. When he calls for his worshipper to take the effort of interrupting the lust of sleep to wake up for a prayer that truly stands for a hearty love and then his worshipper fails to endure the effort of that. When he calls for his worshipper to make his holy religion of Islam a priority through the mindful reading of Qur'an, the modest treatment of women, and the continuous remembrance of his blessings, he sees that as the true and required expression of love. And if a wife who's madly loved by a passionate husband can feel willing to wander the universe for his sake, what can Allah possibly do for a worshipper whose love for his lord runs deep under his skin?

  

My shame is more eloquent than words can express. Incessantly do I ask for his aid and his help and all what I give in exchange is a limp, vulnerable form of love. No wonder why my deep wishes for redemption expires at end of my prayer. No wonder why I feel perplexed, not understanding why am I not getting the aid that I claim to have earned.  How do I expect my gracious lord to make me a priority when my heart managed to make worldly obsessions deeper and more profound than my love for him? How shameful it is to only have my cheeks get wet and my breathing grow heavier when I am in deep trouble, knowing heartily that he Is the only one that can help me. And in times of security and psychological safety, my heart grows forgetful of fearing him.

  

Loving Allah meaningfully is the only way to finding this discernible euphoria in praying where you pause from the hectic stream of life to breathe long enough to wash your sins away; where you heartily solicit for his aid, promising to allow your love for him to finds its way to seriousness and sincerity. The greatest comfort is within allowing your love for him loom large in that valuable soul, heart and mind of yours, allowing you to lead a righteous, purposeful and balanced life in which you find serenity and quietness. 

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  ιиѕριяє∂ ву:A wake up call