Let's admit it: Without playing, without twisting, without twisting, like a man, like a young man... Without thinking about what they might say, without 'whatever they say'... Stopping pretending to be who we want to be... By watching who we are in the mirror of our hearts... What we are. Let's be who we are, who we are for just five minutes and let's admit it:

None of us has a problem of being a servant. The house we want to buy, the car we sigh as we see it, the money we dream of earning does not occupy our hearts as much as being a servant. We forgot that what we call life is the shade of a tree under which we have a little fun. We don't even remember being a strange traveler in this world. We want to take more of everything we leave behind as we go. We cannot even hold a little of the only capital we will take with us.

When I say the last morning prayer we sacrificed to sleep, when I say capital... Our zakat, which we did forty somersaults to the familiar teacher in order not to give even the minimum of it... Our fasts that we sacrificed for backbiting and a haram evil eye before noon... Our half-assed, meaningless word-i-shahadat... I'm not talking about our modesty veiled arrogance, our sincerely dressed hypocrisy, our clever trickery, our vigilant deception. I'm talking about the fact that we think that worship consists of worship and that we can't even give it its due.

Let's admit it like lions...

There is only a word in our language to love and be loved for the sake of Allah. When our loved ones get a blessing, our hearts are silent for the real envy while our tongues are congratulating them falsely. We secretly turn our heads to the other side and smile when the feet of those who will sit on their seats slip so that they do not stumble. Not for the one who clung to our arm

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We now call the one who will not trip over us, our friend. In the past, we did not call a man who was not brave even to his enemy, now the name of the one who does not be rude to his friend is called honest in our dictionaries. We have neither a conversation that we can finish without gossiping, nor a conversation that we can have without eating the meat of our brothers... We are unaware of the forest in our own eyes, we eat the garbage in someone else's eyes as an appetizer. We never think about how and which toothpick will clean the sibling residue on our teeth. We are too perfect to be criticized by anyone, we are all knowledgeable enough to criticize everyone. We know everything, except our limits!

Let's admit it, but in Muslim...

Many of us have not read even a catechism from beginning to end. We are aware of neither impurity nor najasat. We cannot count thirty-two fards until half, fifty-four fards are unnecessary information anyway. We do not leave piety to anyone, we say that prayer is the pillar of religion, but how many of us can count the conditions, fards, wajibs and sunnahs of prayer without mistaking it? If our father dies, we do not know how we will gasp, how we will shroud him, how we will put him in the grave. But we know what is meant in which verse, which hadith cannot be true, why the imam of the madhhab was wrong and why there is no need for madhhabs anymore. Well, there is Google, who is Imam-i Azam?

If my style is far from cute, don't blame me. Forgive me if I upset you. If I'm overstepping my bounds by making you a partner in my own fight, please handle it. But admit it, let's admit it. Let's retreat to ourselves and silently confess to ourselves.

None of us cares about Arakan, we have already forgotten Syria, Palestine is nothing more than a slogan on our lips, we don't even know where East Turkestan will fall... If two words are spoken in the middle of a friendly conversation, we think that our duty has been completed. When we tweet twice or send a mass message, we consider ourselves to be troubled by the troubles of our brothers. So if this is not Islam, what is? How else can it be like the bricks of a building, like the parts of a body? Do you think we said "two billion" inspired by Sezai Bey to the question of how many brothers do you have?

Don't be unfair to me, just be kind to me.

Whose dream was broken by sobs, for God's sake? How many nights have we spent sleepless with the pain of our brothers who died at the hands of oppressors? How many of us laughed, and the face of an oppressed person who died in Arakan was frozen in front of our eyes? When did the cry of a child who was burned to death in front of his mother's eyes rang in our ears, we left a dinner table crying?

Have we ever thought about what we can do? Have we been able to slay at least some of our dear fortunes, without looking at most of them, as little as we can? Did it ever occur to us that not taking our money is killing ourselves? No one should say that they would send it if they had. Let him see to himself what I have sent. Kudema did not say tawakkeli because those who cannot give when they are little, cannot give at all when they are many. verm