In the age of social media, everyone has an opinion — and sharing it has never been easier. But Islam draws a sharp and meaningful line between genuine, spiritually motivated counsel and the kind of ego-driven condemnation that wounds rather than heals. Sheikh Omar Suleiman, speaking with Eddie on The Deen Show, unpacks one of the most misunderstood duties in our faith: the obligation to give sincere, loving advice — and why the way we deliver it matters just as much as what we say. This conversation cuts to the heart of communal responsibility, spiritual integrity, and the prophetic model of guiding one another back to Allah without arrogance or contempt.
Nasiha: What Sincere Advice Actually Means
The Arabic word for advice is nasiha, which literally means to purify or refine — as in the refining of honey down to its purest form. When the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ said “the religion is sincere advice,” he was establishing nasiha not as an optional virtue but as the very essence of Islam. That changes everything about how we approach the act of advising someone. The question we must ask ourselves before we speak is simple and searching: am I doing this for that person’s genuine good, or to satisfy my own sense of moral superiority? Allah strongly condemned ridicule and mockery in the Quran — warning that those who look down on others while advising them are not giving nasiha at all; they are committing a major sin. True advice flows from compassion, not condescension.
“Let not one group ridicule another group because they might be better than you.” — The Quran. If advice is given from a place of ‘I am better than you,’ it is no longer advice — it is ridicule in disguise.
- Check your intention first: is this advice for their betterment or for your ego?
- The manner of delivery changes everything — the same words spoken with warmth versus contempt produce completely different results
- Sometimes leading by example is more effective than any spoken word
- Recognise when someone is not yet in a position to receive advice — timing and trust matter
- Build the relationship first; you cannot speak as an adviser to someone who does not yet trust you in that role
- Understand the why behind a person’s sin — often it is a cry for help, not a theological rejection of faith
The Prophetic Model — Reason, Empathy, and the Ship We All Share
When a young man approached the Prophet ﷺ asking for permission to commit fornication, the Prophet did not rebuke him, shame him, or drive him away. He smiled, sat with him, and reasoned with him on his own terms — asking whether he would accept such an act against his own mother or sister. The young man’s heart softened, and the Prophet ﷺ placed his hand on his chest and prayed for him. The lesson is not to copy the specific words, but to absorb the methodology: meet people at their level, speak to their understanding, and let your body language express genuine concern. Sheikh Omar shared a powerful personal example — a friend who had drifted from Islam called him years later ranting blasphemous things. Instead of arguing back, the Sheikh listened quietly and responded with warmth: “I miss you, when can we have lunch?” The man broke down crying. His anger was never theological — it was a cry for help, rooted in personal pain. He returned to the masjid. The Prophet ﷺ also described the Muslim community as passengers on a shared ship: those on the upper deck who neglect those below, allowing them to drill holes, doom the entire vessel. Silence in the face of harm is not neutrality — it is complicity. The masjid must be a clinic that welcomes the sick, not a club that turns them away for not dressing or praying correctly.
Imam al-Shafi’i, when publicly called an evil and wicked man, raised his hands in supplication: “O Allah, if he is telling the truth, then forgive me and have mercy on me and accept my repentance. And if he is not telling the truth — forgive him.” He never descended to the accuser’s level. He searched for truth even in insult.
The companion Abdullah ibn Mas’ud (may Allah be pleased with him) taught that the most hated words to Allah are “don’t judge me” when spoken in rejection of sincere advice. This does not mean we accept mockery or cruelty — it means we separate the delivery from the message, looking past the tone to ask whether there might be a scorpion on our back that we cannot see. Imam Ibn al-Qayyim said exactly this: a spiritual disease is far more dangerous than any physical venom, so why would he refuse to hear about one? Balanced, honest feedback — even when imperfectly delivered — is a gift. The believer’s task, whether giving or receiving counsel, is to remain anchored in sincerity: to purify their intention before speaking, and to humble their ego before listening. That is the prophetic spirit of nasiha — not a sermon from the mountaintop, but a hand extended across the deck of our shared ship, pulling one another toward safety, toward faith, and toward Allah.
