The Most Beautiful Story: Lessons from Surah Yusuf

Assalamu alaikum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuh. Tonight, I want to take you on a journey—not just to retell the story of Yusuf (alayhi as-salam) that many of you already know, but to show you how Allah Himself introduced it to the Prophet ﷺ. Allah didn’t just reveal the story. He prepared the Prophet for it with two powerful words: beauty and awareness. He said, *“We are telling you the most beautiful story”* and reminded him, *“Before this, you were unaware.”* Those two themes—beauty and awareness—are what I want you to carry with you as we walk through this surah together.

Now, the challenge is this: when you hear the story of Yusuf, it doesn’t sound beautiful at first glance. His brothers plot against him. He is thrown into a well. He is sold as a slave. He is torn away from his family. He is accused, imprisoned, humiliated. On the outside, everything looks dark, painful, even ugly. Yet Allah tells us, *“This is the most beautiful story.”* And so, the real challenge is to train our eyes and hearts to look for beauty where no beauty seems to exist—to discover meaning, wisdom, and mercy even in trials.

And then Allah says to the Prophet ﷺ, *“Before this, you were among those unaware.”* The Prophet knew about Allah, he knew about revelation, he knew about judgment day and the stories of the Prophets before him. But there was a unique awareness hidden inside this story—something that could not be found anywhere else in the Qur’an. That means that even the most knowledgeable, the most guided, still had something to learn from the story of Yusuf. And if the Prophet himself was being taught new awareness through this story, how much more do you and I need to pay attention?

So with these two keys—beauty and awareness—let’s begin where the story begins: with a son turning to his father. Yusuf comes to his father and says, *“Ya abati…”*—“Dad, I love you.” This is how the greatest story begins. With love. A child expressing love to his father. And why does a child learn to say that? Because his father has said it to him again and again. “Son, I love you. Son, I love you. Son, I love you.” So naturally, Yusuf learns that the language between father and son is the language of love.

But look at us today. How many sons can say that to their fathers? How many fathers can say that to their children? Too many of us grew up in homes where love was assumed, but never spoken. We “knew” our fathers loved us, but we never heard it. And when love is not expressed, it feels strange to express it later in life. So the very first lesson of the most beautiful story is simple, but profound: love must be spoken. Love must be shown. And this is not just for children—it is for every relationship. Because Allah created us with a need to both give and receive love. And He placed in us different ways to express it.

• The first is words. Saying “I love you. I miss you. I am proud of you.” These words nourish the soul. But words alone are not enough.
• The second is service. Doing things for the people you love—cooking for them, helping them, providing for them.
• Then, the third, there are gifts. A small gift can carry with it a big message of love.
• The fourth is affection—the hugs, the closeness, the physical touch that communicates what words cannot.
• But then comes the most important, the one without which the others mean nothing: space. To give someone space is to make them feel safe to share their thoughts, their fears, their dreams. To give them your undivided attention, to put everything else aside and say, “Right now, you matter more than anything else.” If there are words but no space, they feel hollow. If there are gifts but no space, they feel transactional. If there is affection but no space, it feels empty. True love is only complete when it gives space.

This is why Yusuf didn’t hesitate. When he saw a dream that disturbed him, the first person he ran to was his father. *“Dad, I love you, and I saw…”* He knew his father would give him space. And that is how it should be. Our children should feel that their parents are the safest people to open up to. But too often, homes become places of fear, not of space. Too often, fathers are seen as sources of discipline, not as sources of compassion. And so children seek space elsewhere—in friends, in strangers, even in harmful places.

And it’s not just children. Spouses need space. Husbands and wives need to be able to speak to each other without fear of judgment or later punishment. Every relationship—between siblings, friends, parents, children, spouses—lives or dies by the presence of space. Without it, love dries up. With it, love blossoms.

This, brothers and sisters, is the beauty and awareness Allah wanted to give us. To teach us that the foundation of Yusuf’s greatness began not in a palace, not in a courtroom, not in Egypt—but in a simple exchange of love and space between a son and his father. If we want greatness in our families, in our communities, in our ummah, it must begin with the same foundation. Speak love. Show love. And above all, give space.

May Allah allow us to live by the beauty of this story, to awaken to the awareness it offers, and to restore in our homes the language of love that Yusuf (alayhi as-salam) and his father shared. Ameen.