K. Sherman grew up in US. She hailed from a very practicing Jew family and came from an upper middle class family of second generation Americans, tracing roots back to Russia and Poland. Here in this third part of her four-part story, she describes how she at times cried to seek Truth and how she embraced Islam.
I went back my dorm room and considered the facts. Could I deny what I now perceived to be the truth? Could I deny what I had read, what I had seen, what I had heard, and what I had felt? Hadn’t I been crying, desperately, on my dorm room floor only yesterday, pleading for guidance, imploring God for help? Islam came and confirmed what I had already thought to be true. I learned that it was the continuation of Judaism and Christianity, sent by the same God, the One and only true God, the God of Adam and Eve, of Noah, of Moses, of Jesus. Yes, these are all revered prophets of Islam. Islam simply means submitting to the will of God. The whole universe is in total submission to God, but human beings are unique in that they are free to accept or reject divine guidance. If we accept, it is for the benefit of our soul, and if we reject, it is to our own detriment.
So, while I had never considered myself religious before, I became so in that instant — the instant that I could no longer deny the facts. I submitted my whole self to God. I even scrambled around the house looking for a head scarf to cover my hair with! That was in February of 1993, coincidentally, the first day of the Holy Month of Ramadan. I was nineteen. My mother took issue with that part of my conversation only — the decision to cover my hair — as she saw no other inherent danger in me becoming a Muslim. Neither did my father. They just couldn’t see why I would want to cover up my best feature. But, then again, doesn’t God know best when it comes to such things? Just think how much time, money, and effort I have saved over the years, not worrying about my hair. Now I can spend that time in silent devotion, prostrating to Allah, praising His names, worshipping He who created me and showed me my way, the One true God, who hears and responds to the call of even the most lost and desperate souls.
The first 20 years of my life were basically characterized by the darkness of kufr (disbelief), a seriously dysfunctional home life, and the dire emotional upset and turmoil that inevitably followed. Obviously, the challenges that lay ahead (when I first accepted Islam) were formidable. The early years (after accepting Islam) were essentially an ongoing struggle to erase the myriad of negative emotions, distorted self-image, satanic whisperings, and self-doubts I had acquired. (I had absolutely zero self-confidence, and even a sub-zero sense of self-worth- not only did I not believe in myself at all, I was convinced that I was the most wicked, hated, undeserving person in the universe). It was a colossal challenge to overcome all these feelings — and that’s putting it mildly… It was as if I had to climb a huge mountain, going up and up and up, with absolutely no end or hope of reaching my goal in sight. It was an excruciating period. For months, I didn’t feel like myself at all. I felt like I was walking in the shoes of a stranger, although they were my own. If my faith had been as solid as it is now, needless to say, it would have been a much easier climb.
A few months after accepting Islam I was sidetracked in my efforts to improve myself and acquire inner peace by a set of very untimely, unfortunate occurrences. There is no real value in pondering over these misfortunes. As Muslims we understand that our circumstances in life are considered to be our ‘Qadr,’ or destiny. These events were pre-recorded by a special pen long before the creation of the heavens and the earth. Also, as true believers, we understand that all our circumstances in life, whether ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ ultimately work for the good of the individual (kind of like blessings in disguise). This is only true for a believer, though. If ‘good’ befalls a person, Islam teaches us, we should thank God, and that is good for us. If a trial /hardship/ disaster strikes, we practice patience and that is also good for us. So, I’d say that my din has evolved magnificently — under the circumstances — very slowly but surely over the last twenty years, to where I am today. I have 100 percent undefiled faith and confidence that the decision I made twenty years ago to submit my will to God’s will was definitely the right one. In fact, it makes me shudder just to think what shambles my life would be in today had I not taken that momentous step. For anyone in similar circumstances, who is finding the climb difficult, finding it hard to shake off all those negative emotions, just know that they are from the devil; they have no place in reality. The devil is not going to part ways easily, now that a person has started heading in the right direction. Be vigilant and persevere in your efforts. If you patiently persevere you are promised a goodly life, both in this life and in the hereafter.
While I have made remarkable progress on the emotional/spiritual front (by the grace of the Almighty) I believe I have yet to re-capture the sense of tranquility and quietude in my soul that I enjoyed as a child. All children are born into that pure, unadulterated state, true to their natures, in a state called ‘fitrah’ in Arabic (or natural human inclination). It is by the will of God that we should ever deviate, or come out of it, because if we had stayed there, enjoying that constant sense of serenity, security, and peace of mind, what would make any of us go out looking for the Truth — or for God — or for a fix? We would never bother, in that case. So, it was actually a blessing in disguise that things got so bad and so out of control so fast.
(To be continued next week)
• Courtesy of islamicbulletin.org
I submitted my whole self to Allah
