Today, just like many other mornings, I began my day with one of my favourite rituals: reading the Qur’an and going through its translation. Some mornings a verse touches me immediately. Some mornings I read a story and move on. And then there are mornings when I find myself stopping and asking, Are these stories really only about people who lived centuries ago? Or are they also showing us something about ourselves today?
Today’s reading from Surah Ash-Shu'ara took me through the stories of several prophets and what happened to their nations: Moses and Pharaoh, Noah and his people, Hud and the people of 'Ad, Salih and Thamud, Lot and his people, Shu'ayb and the people of the forest, and then the ending of the Surah where Allah speaks about poets. The stories are different, but there is a pattern that kept standing out to me. The prophets were not simply sent to tell people to believe. They called people to correct what had become wrong in their society. They challenged behaviours, attitudes, injustice, arrogance, corruption, and the ways people had become disconnected from God.
That made me think about how we sometimes read these stories as if they belong to another world. We hear about Pharaoh and immediately think, That was a tyrant. We hear about the people of Shu'ayb cheating in measurements and think, How dishonest they were. We hear about the people of 'Ad and their pride and think, How arrogant they became. We hear about the people of Lot and think about the specific wrongdoing described in their story. But what if the deeper lesson is not simply to point at them? What if the Qur’an is also asking us to look at the behaviours that exist around us today?
Corruption has not disappeared. Dishonesty has not disappeared. Pride has not disappeared. People still exploit others. People still take more than they give. People still manipulate, deceive and abuse positions of power. People still become so attached to wealth, status, influence or social approval that they forget where all of it came from. The people may have changed, the technology may have changed, the clothes may have changed, and the language may have changed, but human behaviour can remain remarkably similar.
When I reached the part about the poets, that one really made me pause. Poets in the context of the time were powerful communicators. They could tell stories, influence people, praise someone, attack someone, create an image, and spread a message through their words. Words had enormous power. The Qur’an makes an important distinction. It speaks about poets who are followed by those who are misguided, who wander from place to place and say things they do not necessarily practise. It then makes an exception for those who believe, do good deeds, and remember Allah.
Suddenly I thought about our world today. We may not live in a society where poets hold exactly the same social position, but we have influencers, speakers, commentators, content creators, public figures, and people with enormous platforms. We have people who can speak beautifully about kindness but treat people terribly in private. People who speak about loyalty but betray those closest to them. People who preach humility while constantly seeking admiration. People who talk about mental health while shaming others. People who speak about relationships while behaving completely differently in their own lives. People who tell others how to live but never examine how they themselves live.
The ending of the Surah feels very relevant to me, because there is a difference between what we say and what we practise. That distinction is not only for public speakers or influencers. It is for all of us. As a coach and trainer, this part made me reflect on myself too. It is very easy to teach something. It is much harder to live it. We can teach confidence and still struggle with insecurity. We can teach emotional regulation and still lose our patience. We can speak about boundaries and still allow people to cross ours. We can teach self-love and still be harsh with ourselves. We can talk about forgiveness while holding resentment inside. We can encourage people to trust Allah while secretly trying to control every outcome in our own lives. The real test of knowledge is not how beautifully we can explain it. The real test is what that knowledge changes in us.
Maybe this is one of the reasons the stories of the prophets are so powerful. They were not simply delivering speeches. They were calling people towards transformation. Each community had its own particular sickness. Some were arrogant. Some rejected truth because they were attached to what their ancestors had always done. Some were corrupt. Some cheated others. Some abused power. Some became obsessed with wealth and possessions. Some refused to acknowledge Allah and associated others with Him. Some crossed boundaries that Allah had forbidden. And the prophets came with courage, clarity, and a message that challenged the culture around them.
That also made me think about something else. A prophet did not simply tell people what they wanted to hear. Sometimes the truth is uncomfortable precisely because it asks us to change. Today, we often choose messages that make us feel good. We follow people who confirm what we already believe. We unfollow people who challenge us. We can become surrounded by content that constantly tells us that we are right, everyone else is wrong, and we don't need to change. But the Qur’an does something different. It makes us uncomfortable. It makes us question. It makes us look at ourselves.
It reminds us that wealth, status, children, power, and social position will not ultimately save us. What matters is what we carry before Allah. One verse that stayed with me described the Day when wealth and children will be of no benefit, except for the one who comes to Allah with a sound heart. A sound heart. Not a perfect life. Not a perfect image. Not a perfect reputation. A sound heart.
And maybe that is the real reflection I am taking from this morning’s reading. When I read about Pharaoh, I should ask myself where pride exists in me. When I read about those who cheated in their measurements, I should ask myself whether I am completely fair in my dealings with others. When I read about corruption, I should ask where I compromise my principles. When I read about people worshipping what their ancestors worshipped, I should ask whether I blindly follow things simply because they are familiar. When I read about the people of Lot, I should remember that Allah's guidance includes boundaries around human behaviour and that I should not use another person's wrongdoing as an excuse to forget my own accountability. When I read about the poets who said what they did not practise, I should ask myself: Do my words and my actions match?
When I read about the prophets continuing to warn their people despite rejection, I should remember that our responsibility is not always to control the outcome. Sometimes our responsibility is simply to stand for what is right, speak with wisdom, and remain sincere. Maybe this is why I love beginning my mornings with the Qur’an. It is not merely a book of stories from the past. It keeps holding up a mirror. And sometimes, when I think I am reading about them, I suddenly realise that Allah is inviting me to look at myself.
The world has probably changed, but human beings are still human beings. Our platforms are bigger. Our voices travel faster. Our technology is more advanced. But pride, greed, dishonesty, arrogance, corruption, temptation, ego, and the desire for recognition are still very much alive. And so are faith, courage, humility, kindness, repentance, and the desire to do what is right.
The question is not only which side of history those people were on. The question is: Which patterns am I repeating? What am I teaching others through my words? And more importantly, am I actually living what I say?
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