When I Didn’t Know Why

Surah Al-Kahf, Ayah 67–68

"He answered: 'You will surely not be able to bear with me.'" "And how can you patiently bear with something you cannot encompass in your knowledge?"

When I first read the translation of these ayahs, I was struck by the hidden beauty in those lines. They settled into my heart quietly, but with time, their weight grew. They began to shape the way I thought about my life and pain.

I remember the day my father passed away. I had seen many deaths before and considered myself strong. He had been ill for some time, and I knew the end was near. I thought I was ready. I thought the knowing would make it easier.

But when he finally left this world, it hit me harder than anything ever had. The pain was raw, sharp, and unspeakable. Even now, the memory of that moment can bring back the ache with full force.

I had so many questions. Why now? Why like this? And beneath them all was the belief that if I could just understand, then maybe I wouldn’t hurt as much.

But then I remembered Allah’s words: “How can you patiently bear with something you cannot encompass in your knowledge?”

I don’t know. I didn’t know then, and I don’t know now. And in that moment, the verse wasn’t a rebuke—it was a mercy. It gave me permission to not have the answers. It reminded me that this pain, this loss, this trial—was something beyond my knowledge. Beyond my strength. Beyond my preparedness.

I had been given only a little knowledge. And I had acted like it was enough. Enough to hold me steady in the face of death. Enough to walk confidently through heartbreak. But it wasn’t.

Oh my Lord, I strayed. But You were always there—quietly, patiently guiding me back. It was I who kept looking in the wrong places.

I am weak. I always have been. And life’s trials keep showing me just how fragile I am. But in that weakness, I turn to the Most Powerful—not for explanations, but for patience. Because truly, I do not know. And so I ask: Ya Allah, grant me patience for what I cannot understand. For what I cannot yet see. For what lies hidden in Your wisdom.

This reflection is part of a personal series: “When the Quran Held Me” — a journey through verses from the Qur’an that have touched my life. Follow along as I explore one ayah at a time, through heart, memory, and meaning.

“I recently reflected on fear through the lens of Surah Fussilat in light of current events — [read it here]:(Of Thunder and Bombs).”

[Continue reading the series →] If “When I Didn’t Know” was about the fog that surrounds uncertainty, then my next reflection, “When the Chest Tightens,” is about what follows: the moment you’re asked to move forward, but your heart hesitates. I invite you to walk with me through the du’a of Musa (AS) — a prayer for courage, clarity, and ease.