Stop Judging, Start Acting: A Call to Genuine Faith and Compassion

 

There are some people in this world who seem truly blessed. They have parents who support them, resources to meet their needs, and the freedom to make choices without fear of survival. For these people, life is not a constant battle to stay afloat. They have the privilege of deciding what is right and wrong, halal and haram, in their own time. And yet, for some, this blessing turns into something else: a tool for judgment and a sense of superiority.

Let me ask you something: have you ever stopped to think about the lives of those less fortunate? Not in a superficial, pitying way, but deeply and sincerely? Because, let’s be honest, it’s easy to preach when you’re not the one struggling. It’s easy to tell someone to follow religious guidelines when you’re not the one with an empty stomach.

The Burden of Hypocrisy

Let’s talk about a common scenario: someone tells a poor, hungry person to only eat what’s halal. Sounds good, right? Halal food is important in Islam. But what if that poor person doesn’t even have the luxury to choose? What if they’re faced with the harsh reality of survival? You, sitting comfortably with your meal, have the privilege of making that choice. They don’t.

And yet, it’s not uncommon to see people—well-fed, financially stable, living in comfort—lecturing others on their supposed shortcomings. Some of these same people go on pilgrimages, donate publicly, and then think of themselves as superior Muslims. Is this piety, or is it pride in disguise?

The True Lives of Religious Leaders

Here’s another question for you: have you ever studied the lives of truly pious religious leaders? Most of them lived humbly, avoided worldly pleasures, and spent their lives serving others without a shred of arrogance. Their greatness wasn’t in what they had, but in what they gave up. They didn’t judge others—they helped them. They weren’t interested in superficial superiority—they were focused on humility and self-improvement.

Feed the Poor, Literally and Metaphorically

Instead of sitting in judgment of others, let’s take action. If you have resources, why not use them to help those who don’t? If someone is suffering, offer support, not unsolicited advice. If someone is struggling with their faith, guide them through kindness and understanding, not through criticism wrapped in fake concern.

Think of the poor not just in terms of financial poverty, but in every sense: the poor in spirit, the poor in opportunity, the poor in guidance. If you’re blessed with the resources, knowledge, and privilege to help, then do so. Share what you have. Give without expecting anything in return.

Are You Passing or Failing Your Test?

Here’s something many of us forget: your blessings aren’t necessarily a reward for your good deeds. They might just be your test on this earth. And the truth is, many of us are failing it. Instead of gratitude, we show arrogance. Instead of compassion, we show judgment.

If you’re so eager to advise others, then first take a hard look at your own life. Have you sacrificed for others? Have you cut down your luxuries to lift someone else up? Have you fed the poor, not just with food, but with dignity, love, and understanding?

Fix Yourself First

This isn’t a call to silence—it’s a call to action. Before you lecture someone about halal and haram, about right and wrong, ask yourself: have I earned the right to advise? Am I truly acting out of concern, or is it pride in disguise?

We need fewer lectures and more examples. Fewer criticisms and more compassion. Stop judging. Start acting. Fix your own faith first, and then let your actions speak louder than your words.

A Final Thought

If you’re blessed, use it as an opportunity to make the world better—not to inflate your own sense of superiority. True faith lies in humility, not judgment. True greatness lies in service, not in the illusion of piety.

So, the next time you’re tempted to advise someone, pause. Ask yourself: am I helping, or am I just feeding my pride? If you truly care, then act. Because in the end, it’s not the lectures you give, but the lives you touch, that will define your legacy.