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The Greatest Story Ever Told
What Surah Yusuf Taught Me About Patience, Power, and Letting Allah Write the Ending
Hamza Awaale
March 22, 2025
A long letter about patience, the irony…
We relate to you, [O Muhammad], the best of stories...
That’s not my opinion. That’s what Allah calls it.
The greatest story ever told.
Not because it ends with a throne.
But because it begins with a boy, a dream, and a long road full of tests.
Surah Yusuf isn’t just about patience.
It’s about patience with honour. And having full faith in Allah's story for you.
The Dream and the Nightmare
It begins with a dream:
“Indeed I saw eleven stars, and the sun and the moon—I saw them prostrating to me.”
Then:
A fake request to go play. A father’s deep suspicion against his sons.
“Indeed, it saddens me that you should take him, and I fear that a wolf would eat him while you are unaware.”
A shirt stained with false blood. Fake tears.
“So patience is most fitting. And Allah is the one sought for help against that which you describe.”
A young boy thrown into a well by his brothers.
They didn't leave him, though…they sat around and waited.
Not to save him. To decide how to get rid.
Kill him? Abandon him?
Until a passing caravan pulled him out.
“So he let down his bucket. He said, ‘Oh good news! Here is a boy.’”
The brothers rushed over, pretending to be his guardians…
then sold him for a few cheap coins.
To a minister of Egypt.
A Slave Seduced.
Raised in a palace. Taught wisdom and knowledge. Surrounded by nobles.
They raise him as their own son…
they try to, at least until he matures.
Yusuf was tremendously handsome, described as an angel, not a man.
Thus, desires danced and tempered within the very woman who nurtured him.
She corners him in a room.
And she, in whose house he was, sought to seduce him. She closed the doors and said, "Come to me." He said, "[I seek] the refuge of Allāh. Indeed, he is my master, who has made good my home. Indeed, wrongdoers will not succeed."
He flees. She grabs his shirt from behind. Rips it.
Her husband walks in. The proof is clear: she tried to seduce him.
Not the other way around.
A scandal is buried. Rumour spreads amongst the nobility.
Politics forces the minister to injustice.
An innocent man is imprisoned to appease the nobles.
And Yusuf, beautiful and blameless, says:
“My Lord, prison is more beloved to me than what they call me to.”
My Moment of Restraint
That line hit me hard.
The Prophet ﷺ said:
“The world is a prison for the believer and a paradise for the disbeliever.”
Sometimes choosing what pleases Allah feels like a punishment. But that’s only if you’re living for the dunya.
There was a woman I almost married. We were compatible. She was beautiful. Well-read. Emotionally mature.
But she wasn’t practising.
And I knew, deep down, that no matter how much I liked her, I couldn’t build a life on disobedience. I couldn't let the mother of my future kids be raised that way.
I had to leave.
Walking away felt like walking into a kind of prison.
Sometimes, prison is safety.
Sometimes, prison is Sabr.
Sometimes, prison is the only way to keep your soul clean.
Dignity in Silence
Yusuf chose prison over pleasure. He chose silence over self-defence. He chose Allah over everything.
And even in prison, he didn’t waste his da’wah.
Before interpreting their dreams, Yusuf says:
“Are separate lords better, or Allah, the One, the Prevailing?
You worship nothing but names which you have named—you and your fathers—for which Allah has sent down no authority. Legislation is not but for Allah. He has commanded that you worship not except Him. That is the correct religion, but most people do not know.”
Even in confinement, he taught Tawheed. Because you don’t need a stage to deliver the truth. You need certainty in your Deen.
And Allah never left him.
“And thus We established Yusuf in the land... We touch with Our mercy whom We will, and We do not allow to be lost the reward of those who do good.”
Yaqub's Grief and the Power of Restraint
But the most powerful moment for me isn’t the prison. It’s what happens after he plants the cup in Binyamin’s bag.
When they return to their father and tell him they've lost another son, again, Yaqoob repeats the same exact words :
“So patience is most fitting. Perhaps Allah will bring them all to me. Indeed, it is He who is the Knowing, the Wise.”
And then the verse that shatters me:
“I only complain of my suffering and my grief to Allah. And I know from Allah that which you do not know.”
No venting to friends. No complaining. No self-pity.
Just a broken-hearted father who went blind from countless tears, turning to the only One who ever truly listens.
That is what real masculinity looks like.
The Moment of Power
After all the years, all the silence, all the patience—Yusuf looks his brothers in the face and says:
"Yes, I am Yusuf, and this is my brother. Allah has certainly favoured us. Indeed, he who fears Allah and is patient—then indeed, Allah does not allow to be lost the reward of those who do good."
Then, when they are struck with shame and remorse, he follows it up with:
“No blame will there be upon you today. Allah will forgive you, and He is the most merciful of the merciful.”
Forgiveness over vengeance. Grace over ego.
That’s not just Sabr. That’s Ihsan.
And in the end, Yusuf doesn’t credit his intelligence, looks, or planning.
He credits only Allah:
“My Lord, You have given me something of sovereignty and taught me of the interpretation of dreams. Creator of the heavens and the earth, You are my protector in this world and the Hereafter. Cause me to die a Muslim and join me with the righteous.”
He made it—but not by himself. He knew none of it was from him. Everything he had—was from Allah. And all he wanted—was to die a Muslim.
The Nature of Patience
I used to think patience was letting time pass. But real Sabr isn’t passive.
It’s what you do while you wait.
It’s keeping your hands clean. Your tongue clean. Your heart clean.
The Prophet ﷺ said:
“If I were in Yusuf's place, and the messenger came to me, I would have taken the offer [to leave]. But Yusuf wished to be completely exonerated.”
Even the Messenger of Allah acknowledged the weight of that choice.
Because real Sabr is not just surviving quietly. It’s choosing honour over haste. Dignity over ease.
Wake-Up Call:
I used to beg Allah for things I swore were good for me.
Then He showed me what I couldn’t see…
…and I thanked Him for not giving me what I asked for.
Whenever I turned down something haram that looked like success, Allah replaced it with something better.
Right now, I want to be married.
But I know I need to build first. And I trust He’ll give it when I’m ready.
That’s what Sabr taught me: Sometimes Allah isn’t delaying the blessing—He’s protecting it from the wrong version of you.
If You Want to Rise Like Yusuf:
Walk away from what tempts you, even when it hurts
Stay silent when your ego wants to scream
Hold tight to your integrity—even if it costs you your freedom
This is Ihsan. This is masculinity. This is what it means to have Sabr with Allah's Will.
They threw him in a well.
They sold him for nothing.
They lied about him.
They forgot about him.
But Allah remembered.
And when it was all over, he rose with purity.
With power. With forgiveness.
That’s the legacy of Yusuf.
That’s the reward of Sabrun Jameel.
May Allah make us people of patience, honour, and tawakkul.
Long one for this one, if you made it to the end reply to this email.
Thank you for supporting my work so far; you motivate me to keep pushing.
Dw, the next one will be a lot shorter.
Until then,
Hamza.