Making Tawbah, and Protecting It Afterward

If a person decides to make tawbah and leave his past behind, wanting a fresh start — moved by all that has been said of Allah's (swt) mercy, feeling his heart sensitive in that moment — the manner of it is this: to go home, pray two rakʿahs in a fresh wuḍūʾ, or ghusl where called for, put the head down, and cry the heart out, asking Allah (swt) for forgiveness, confessing the sin to Him alone, making sure no one hears or sees — not even telling a spouse, "look, I am crying right now" — because that is not tawbah, that becomes showing off. It is a space that belongs to no one but the servant and Allah (swt), and in that space the heart should feel such remorse, such healthy guilt, that it brings tears, and resolve never to return to the sin again, along with the other conditions already given. Waking the next morning with such a beautiful feeling in the heart, hands raised in duʿāʾ to Allah (swt), a person may rightly feel that Allah (swt) has forgiven him — and truly, He has.

What comes next is protecting that sincere tawbah. This means leaving the sinning circle altogether. Ninety-nine per cent of the time, a person's sin is down to peer pressure, to the company kept, the friends around. Such friends can seem remarkably loyal. Short of money — "no dosh, no mullah this week, I'm a bit short, I can't pay for the drinks, or the entry to the pub, or the discotheque" — the answer comes readily: "Who's asking for money? I'll pick you up, don't worry, come — my old man gave me some cash, we'll fix you up, don't worry, mate, come on, enjoy — I love you." "I love you too," comes the reply. In truth, that friend does not love; he hates. Such friends are loyal in just this way, and modern technology has only sharpened it — a text message within a minute asking how things are going, are you all right, mate, cool, I'll pick you up, ready, in ten minutes. "My father is watching, man, my old man is here" is met with "sneak out the window, man" — "yeah, sure." Such friends, by Allah, the Almighty, will drag a person straight back into an old way of life without any hesitation, if that company is kept. They are not true friends at all, because they are pulling toward Jahannam, and pulling themselves down with the very same act.

So they must be told directly: "My life has changed, this is the way I want to live now — anyone willing to join is welcome." Sometimes it happens: one person in a group makes tawbah, and the whole circle follows, because it can be said honestly, this was fun once, but my heart no longer enjoys it, it hurts me now, so tawbah has been made, and help is asked to keep it up. If they are true friends, they will follow, or they will let a person go. But some will not let go so easily: "You've become boring now, so religious, such a fanatic — enjoy your life, you're young, Allah is Ghafūr al-Raḥīm," they say, as though issuing their own fatwā that Allah (swt) will forgive regardless. "Allah has forgiven me — I just want to maintain this," comes the reply; but no, they still push. If such friends cannot be shaken off, a change of suburb may be needed, moving away from that locality altogether. "They'll find me again — what am I going to do?" They will: friends loyal enough to ḥarām will come all the way from Dandenong to a person who has moved all the way to Craigieburn to pick him up — yet ask the same friends to come to the mosque instead, and suddenly they are busy, they have something else on. Even moving city, to somewhere like Perth, may not be enough, though it becomes at least a costly journey, some twelve hundred dollars return, for old friends determined to visit.