Bismillah.
There’s a strange kind of silence that comes over a person when his world slows down.
When you’re used to moving fast, doing everything yourself, leading others, solving problems before they even arise—then suddenly, you can’t even roll over in bed without groaning like a tortured coffee machine… It hits differently.
For a man like me—whose schedule used to read like a world map on caffeine—being forced into stillness was not just uncomfortable… it was humiliating. At first. But then came the healing.
From “Go Getter” to “Just Sit There-er”
I still remember the early days after my injury.
People would call and say, “Sheikh, you must be so bored!” Or pityingly say, “Do you need us to come and be around you for a while?”
And I’d laugh—because boredom is what you feel when you choose to rest.
But this? This was paralysis of my entire being, with a side of leg cramps all the time and backaches that I can’t even describe.
The man who used to pace stages, coach clients regularly, travel the globe, etc., now sat in one spot staring at walls and shadows. No tours. No talks. Just tissues and stacks of medications.
I asked myself over and over, “How can I be of benefit like this?”
How can I fulfill the beautiful Hadith of the Prophet ﷺ:
“The most beloved people to Allah SWT are those who are most beneficial to people…” al-Mu’jam al-Awsaṭ lil-Ṭabarānī 6026
I wasn’t teaching.
I wasn’t traveling.
I wasn’t doing anything… or so I thought.
The test of stillness.
But Allah SWT taught me something powerful during that period:
Sometimes, you benefit people not by running after them… but by being an example they can look at and say,
“If he can be patient during this painful time, then I can as well.”
You see, Islam doesn’t just value productivity in motion.
Islam also values productivity in patience.
In acceptance.
In reflection.
Forcing the strong to be still is a form of Divine discipline.
It humbles the muscles and stretches the soul.
I’ve met people later on after recovery who told me, “Sheikh, I saw your posts while you were in pain and sitting in a wheelchair. They gave me strength while I was fighting depression, or while my dad was in surgery, or while I felt like giving up on Allah SWT” or those in physical wheelchairs who found solace in my story.
See, I wasn’t able to move a toe or lift a finger during those days. But apparently, Allah SWT, through this experience, was capable of lifting up lots of hearts.
And that, my friend, is real influence, through the wisdom and plans of Allah SWT.
The spiritual weight of inactivity
Being still doesn’t mean being useless.
When Allah SWT told Musa (PBUH)’s mother to place her newborn in a basket and throw it in the river, her actions looked like a complete surrender. But it was actually her greatest act of faith in Allah SWT.
When Maryam (AS) was told to say nothing as she returned to her people with baby Jesus (PBUH), her silence was louder than any speech you have ever heard.
So why do we think our benefit to others only comes from mic drops and power walks?
Sometimes your Sabr (patience) is your loudest Da’wah.
Sometimes your endurance is your most powerful Khutbah.
Sometimes your brokenness is more healing than your advice.
Because people see your pain.
They see you fighting the mental battle to stay positive, to remember Allah SWT, to smile even when your spine wants to resign from its job (without even a notice period).
And that inspires them more than 1,000 well-crafted social media posts.
The hidden rewards of needing help
Do you know what’s harder than helping others?
Needing help.
Trust me, when you go from lifting others to asking them to help you out of bed, it’s humbling (and I mean, it’s not easy at all). The ego doesn’t like it. It kicks and screams and whispers:
“You’re not strong anymore.”
“You’re a burden and are bedridden.”
“People are better off without your weakness.”
But here’s the truth: needing help from others teaches you how to be a human again.
It resets your soul and rebrands you the way you were first made. Innocent and weak.
It reminds you that strength is not found in pretending to be invincible—it’s found in relying on Allah SWT even when you’re limping, physically or emotionally.
Even the Prophet ﷺ—our greatest role model—wasn’t always in motion. He spent time in the cave. He paused at the grave of Khadijah RA. He mourned his son. He didn’t rush the Hijrah. He reflected, he exercised patience, and he waited for the ultimate guidance from Allah SWT. So remember, stillness is part of the Sunnah of the most beloved PBUH.
The mirror Allah SWT holds up
So if you’re reading this while you’re stuck in a bed, or holding a walking stick, or just mentally exhausted from a long trial… I want you to know:
You are still valuable.
You are still beloved to Allah SWT.
And your stillness may be doing more good than all your hustle ever did.
We often pray for strength, but Allah SWT gives us stillness to teach us where true strength lies. So praise the Ever-Powerful and pray for ‘Afiyyah/goodness in whatever shape Allah SWT may decide for you.
One last limp of wisdom here.
Today, I may still walk like a penguin (that’s absolutely true). I may sit more than I speak. But I now understand something I couldn’t see before:
The man on the bed can benefit the world… if his heart remains awake and connected to Allah SWT.
So don’t rush to “get better.” Let the stillness shape you. Let the silence heal you. Let the dependence upon Allah SWT soften you. Because when the strong become still, they often become something even stronger: Aware. Grateful. Connected. And truly beloved by Allah SWT.
With reflection, resilience, Imaan, and a whole lot of muscle cream :), things will turn in your favor. Insh a Allah.
Wael Ibrahim
