Leaving God Behind

In the silence of the night, the call to prayer echoed through the city. But the young man was lost in the noise of his own restless prayers. His name was Ali—educated, talented, and full of dreams. He wanted to achieve something great, to attain everything life had to offer. But the biggest obstacle in his path... was himself.

Ali wanted everything from the world—wealth, fame, love, peace. He was always asking for something:
"O Allah, grant me a job."
"O Allah, bring my beloved back."
"O Allah, let everyone admire me."

But the one thing he never asked for was… God Himself.

Time passed. He kept giving interviews, kept falling in and out of love, kept praying, but nothing changed. Disappointment began to leave permanent lines on his face. He turned to medicines, visited spiritual healers, sat in front of fortune-tellers selling dreams of paradise—but nowhere did he find peace.

One day, when all roads seemed blocked, he wandered to an old shrine on the outskirts of the city. An elderly dervish sat under a tree, reciting quietly. Frustrated, Ali asked,
“Baba! I’ve asked for everything, tried everything, but I’ve gained nothing. My dreams are shattered. I’m exhausted. What am I doing wrong?”

The dervish looked up and smiled gently.
“Son, you asked for everything, but you left behind the One you should’ve asked for.”

Ali was confused. “What do you mean? I’ve prayed all the time.”

The dervish recited a verse:

‘I sought remedies everywhere,
Yet left behind the prayer.
I couldn’t walk this worldly path,
Without shedding guilt or despair.
Surprised I am at my own desires, O Iqbal,
I asked for all things from God—
Except God Himself.’

These words hit Ali like lightning. He realized he had never truly asked for God. He had only asked for what God could give. He hadn’t loved the Creator—only chased His creations.

That night, for the first time, Ali returned home and bowed in prayer without asking for anything.
“O Allah! Whatever You’ve already given me, I am grateful. I ask for nothing now—just make me Yours.”

And that single act of surrender became the most precious moment of his life.

Gradually, things began to change. He got a small job—nothing flashy, not in a big company, but he accepted it with a thankful heart. He began to speak less, smile more, and help others quietly. He gave blessings freely, without expecting anything in return.

Months later, he received a call from an organization he'd forgotten he applied to. There, he was offered a role where not only was he respected, but his talents and values were also recognized.

Love returned, too—but in a different form. He no longer craved someone’s attention; he had fallen in love with life itself. It no longer mattered where he was or who he was—because he knew God was with him.

His prayers took a new form:
“O Allah! Fill my heart with Your light.”
“O Allah! Help me be content with what pleases You.”
“O Allah! Just stay with me.”

Ali no longer wandered in search of medicine, nor did he chase temporary peace. He had embraced prayer, and prayer had led him to God.

One day, he wrote in his old journal the same poem that had awakened his soul:

I sought remedies everywhere,
Yet left behind the prayer.
I couldn’t walk this worldly path,
Without shedding guilt or despair.
Surprised I am at my own desires, O Iqbal,
I asked for all things from God—
Except God Himself.

Ali had finally understood:
True peace is found when God becomes the purpose, not just the provider.