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“Leave it, for the sake of Allah.” These are the words I set upon after a passionate debate within, which raged for hours through the night. What I really meant is, “Abandon it, for the sake of your redemption.”

It is not easy to leave something your heart clings to. This particular idol: a project I had already decided to obliterate months ago, deleting every copy I had… only… mid-week, while flailing around desperate to find an old password, I discovered one last copy of that project in a Time Machine backup.

A strong soul would have averted their eyes, reminding itself of a promise made. But this soul: no, it would consider it reprieve, and would soon be restoring it, thinking it a second chance. A second chance for what? For revisiting all that I had already wrestled with at length: whether to invest all of my time and energy on it, or to set it aside in pursuit of our true calling.

Here the follies of these inner addictions, which perpetually call back to us, looking for any gateway into our lives. It only takes an atom to undo all of our resolve, and soon enough we are back where we started, investing time in that which brings no actual benefit.

Hence the battle which raged within through the night. Hence my occupation of the office chair early on a Sunday morning, following through on the decision that settled as I stood on my prayer mat for fajr, expunging those project files once more. I can’t say it is easy. No, it pains me, weighing heavily.

I suppose I am rather like that alcoholic who, after spending the last penny of his emergency student fund — only just secured from a charitable benefactor — on a twenty-four hour binge, realises he has no choice but to pour that final expensive bottle of scotch down the drain, and resolve to bringing about lasting change in his life.

How often must he empty his bank account this way? How many more violent outbursts? How many more days lost to oblivion, comatosed from reality? In that anxious stage, on the downward curve, he will make that resolve: to leave all this. Recognising he has a problem, he knows he must abandon it, for the sake of his soul.

What is it that calls me back, despite the gravitational pull in the other direction? That quiet voice within, pleading with me: “Return to Him with a clean heart.” That feeble voice of conscience: “Purify your heart.” That inner rebuke: “Correct your intentions.” A voice of reason: “Run back to your Lord!” That agitation of the soul: “Don’t let this be your return to oblivion. Leave all that for the sake of God.”

The goodness of my soul is truthful indeed, but the riotous nafs are easily swayed by the allure of all it desires. So again that faint voice of goodness suggests: “Ask God to replace it with something better than that!” Yes, the virtuous voice is petitioning hard, begging me to repent and ask for mercy, to truly commit to abandoning this folly, once and for all. “Fall down on your face,” it demands of me, “Let your faith reach your heart.”

And so at last a verse resonates within, reminding me of what we are truly called to. Yes, the virtuous voice within has uttered a word of truth.

By the sun and his brightness, and the moon when she follows him, and the day when it reveals him, and the night when it enshrouds him, and the heaven and Him Who built it, And the earth and Him Who spread it out, and a soul and Him Who perfected it and inspired it with awareness of what is wrong for it and what is right for it, he is indeed successful who purifies it, and he is indeed a failure who neglects it.

Qur’an 91:1-10

“Purify it!” demands the inner voice, now dominant. “Purify your heart and soul! Purify your intentions. Leave these futile passions. Invest your time in that which will truly benefit you.” So here I am, at my computer, following through, the meaning of that verse reverberating over and over within. “He is indeed successful who purifies his soul, and he is indeed a failure who neglects it!”

“Leave it for the sake of God and your soul,” demands the ascendent voice within. And so I know I must, and will, and have. Writing this down serves as my inner counsel, to confirm: yes, though it pains me, this is the right path and the correct decision. He is indeed successful who purifies it.