Plant Your Peace

In this world, power, money, and status define who’s considered “elite.” The ones who have influence, the ones who can afford to speak louder than others, are usually seen as the most valuable in the eyes of society. On the other side, the poorest and most disregarded of people can also hold the highest worth in the sight of Allah swt. And history proves that. The majority of those who followed the Messengers were among the weakest in their communities—not because they lacked value, but because their hearts were more receptive to truth. They were mocked, overlooked, and ridiculed for believing, but Allah elevated them through their faith.

It’s important for Muslims to remove money from their personal criteria when judging the worth of a matter. Why? Because it’s the very factor society uses to decide what’s successful, what’s valuable, and what’s respectable. And when we internalize that same thinking, it sabotages our ability to see the actual lesson Allah is highlighting.

Money is a background factor. It paints the picture, but it’s not the whole painting. It shows up in the scene, but how we use it up front determines the spiritual climate of our intentions. Since life is a dimensional experience—where everything changes form depending on what you’re focused on—money naturally comes and goes. So the test isn’t in having or losing money. The test is in our intentions. Do we trust the Source of provision, or are we clinging to the provision itself because we’ve attached multiple meanings to it?

Society uses money to measure a person’s importance, but Allah made it clear that dollars and coins don’t measure morals, don’t build character, and shouldn’t be used to make executive decisions about someone’s worth. Money can assist in the path to goodness—especially when used for charity—but Allah also tells us that charity isn’t just financial. It’s also about your time, your effort, your kindness, your ability to lead with good character and carry people through hardship with support. These are forms of charity too.

The Prophet ﷺ said: “Charity extinguishes sin like water extinguishes fire.” But sadly, some people use that hadith as a loophole. They sin with the intention of giving charity later, thinking they can use the deen to balance out their disobedience. They manipulate the system—acting like the sin is worth it as long as they can pay it off with a good deed. This is the exact deceit Shaytan whispers. He validates the sin by convincing the heart there’s a way to cancel it out without repentance. It’s a trap that raises the challenge against the very intelligence and spiritual awareness Allah gifted us with.

And when that mindset takes over, it starts to block the flow of understanding. You can’t grow past the sin, because you’re not truly trying to. It becomes an emotional cover-up.  And eventually, that behavior builds into ignorance and arrogance—causing people to lose their connection with Allah because they lacked the understanding of how. They connected to the benefits of the pillars, not the pillars themselves.

So if we’re serious about self-accountability with Allah, then we have to stop letting money be the silent decision maker in understanding matters. We must recognize that while it holds weight in the dunya, it holds no weight in front of Allah unless it’s used with pure intention. The real currency in this life is character, truth, and trust in Allah.

I’ve had to face this truth personally. In recent years, my deepening of faith began to reflect the person I’ve always been inside. But when I chose to cover my face, that’s when people assumed I was hiding something—when in reality, those who truly knew me understood that it was a reflection of the boundaries I was trying to keep. It was never about hiding. It was about containing a matter with boundaries, only Allah inspired this containment be enwrapped in a garment.

But that message became distorted. It fell into many hands, twisted and passed around, turning me into this manic, unstable character in other people’s narratives—someone desperate for validation, forgiveness, or pity. None of that was ever my aim. And nobody truly knew the depth of my capability to handle this guidance. So I’ve come to learn that this distortion has served a divine purpose. It kept the “limelight” on something real as I was genuinely following Allah’s instruction for me. And since that is something that doesn't happen overnight, He made that exposure strong. 

The challenges I’m facing—starting with the most painful one, being separated from my children—have only confirmed for me that Allah created me to be His messenger in this time, conveying His peace through the lens of this family trial and broader community affair. That understanding didn’t come with applause. It came with loss, struggle, misjudgment, and silence. But it also came with clarity—and a kind of strength that no one can take away. This isn’t meant in a prophetic sense, but as someone who has endured trials and been entrusted with a renewed understanding of faith, so we can collectively remember that our provision comes from Allah (SWT) alone.