Patience isn’t patience when it’s easy

The “very brief” comeback of The Tired Muslimah

I read something online recently that hasn’t left me since.

It said: “You don’t need to suffer. Just leave. Life is too short to be uncomfortable.”

It was one of those aesthetically-pleasing carousel posts, with muted tones and soft language that makes dysfunction feel empowering. At first, it sounded… convincing. But then I paused.

Because isn’t patience, by nature, uncomfortable?

A few weeks ago, I quietly stepped away from social media. I had checked my screen time and felt sick. Hours and hours lost to scrolling, constantly plugged in, but so spiritually numb. I told myself I needed a detox. And in that silence, I began to notice a pattern, not just in myself, but in all of us.

We’re constantly running from discomfort.

Not walking, running.

From awkward conversations. From slow seasons. From relationships that take real work. From emotions that don’t feel tidy.

We want the reward without the waiting. The healing without the hurt.

We glamorize the strength of the Sahaba, their bravery, their patience, their trust, but when faced with even the smallest test, we flinch. We want shortcuts. We want soft landings.

We say we want to be like them… but are we even trying?

And yet, Allah tells us, gently but firmly:

“O you who believe, seek comfort in patience and prayer. Allah is truly with those who are patient.” (2:153)

There’s no footnote.

No asterisk that says “…as long as it’s convenient.”

Just sabr.

And Him.

I’ve been rereading Ibn al-Qayyim’s “Patience and Gratitude” during this still season of mine. One line hit me in the chest:

“True patience is to be patient when it is most difficult, and when giving up is easier than enduring.”

And I realized something that made me tear up. I’ve been calling a lot of things “patience” that were really just comfort.

Patience when I had clarity.

Patience when it was short-term.

Patience when I could see the outcome.

But what about when it’s dark?

When the days feel hollow and nothing is changing?

When you’re praying and crying and still feel like you’re standing still?

That’s the sabr Allah is talking about.

That’s the sabr that counts.

I think about Prophet Nuh (AS) a lot. He preached for 950 years.

Nine. Hundred. And. Fifty.

Can you even imagine?

Preaching and praying and hoping, for generations, and still watching them turn away.

Most of us lose heart after nine days. We beg Allah to answer our du’as by next week. We call our jobs a test after three hard months. We give up on people, on dreams, on the one thing we spent YEARS begging Allah for so fast.

But Nuh (AS) stayed. Not because it was easy. But because it was obedience.

And that’s the thing: we’re not prophets, but we are still called to the same sabr. If it wasn’t meant for us, Allah wouldn’t have shared their stories. If it were easy, He wouldn’t have promised His company to the patient.

We archive people like old stories. We romanticize the soft exit. We see discomfort and assume it’s a sign to leave.

We don’t stay. We don’t wait.

We don’t ask what Allah wants from us in that moment, we ask how we can feel better, faster. We throw away things faster than we repair them.

Friendships. Commitments. Dreams. Marriages. Even our relationship with Allah, sometimes.

But here’s the thing:

That isn’t what Allah promised us.

The Prophet (SAW) said, “This world is a prison for the believer and a paradise for the disbeliever.”

And yet, the moment life feels like a cage, we assume something’s wrong.

We run not because we’re weak, but because we’ve been taught that strength looks like leaving. That ease is always the goal. That everything should be effortless.

But patience is not effortless. Life isn’t effortless.

It is restraint. Endurance. Choosing Allah over yourself again and again, even when your chest is tight and the answers haven’t come.

And I believe So much of this stems from westernized thinking.

Self first. Comfort first. Autonomy above all.

And while those ideas sound liberating, they’re NOT for us.

Because believers were never meant to move through life on those terms. We are meant to return, again and again, to the only standard that matters:

“What does Allah say about this?”

“What does Islam teach me here?”

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So I’m hosting a webinar this Saturday at 6:00pm WAT, because I think this conversation needs to happen. We need a reset.

Together, we’re going to ask the question that really matters:

“What does Islam say about sabr and what does that look like in this generation?”

Because patience isn’t patience if it’s easy.

But it is holy. It is honored. And Allah Himself is with those who have it.