Feel the Wisdom, Not the Sermon
Sometimes I wonder…
Why does good advice still make people feel like crap?
Maybe it's not what we say —
but how do we say it?
Because when the tone feels like a sermon,
the heart doesn’t feel the wisdom.
It feels judged.
It shuts down.
Take this for example.
Let’s say you’re reminding someone to pray.
Or to be honest.
Or not to mess around in a haram relationship.
All of that is true.
But if it comes out sounding like:
“You already know this is wrong. Why are you still doing
it?”
Or:
“It’s not supposed to be like that. Do it this way.”
That tone? It doesn’t help.
Even if you’re right — it pushes people away.
Because the advice came with a punch, not a hug.
So, here’s the real question I keep asking myself:
How do you tell someone something they already know —
without making them feel stupid?
Let’s say your friend steals.
He already knows it’s haram.
He probably knows it better than you.
But he still did it. Maybe out of desperation. Maybe out of pain.
So how do you remind him —
without sounding like a walking reminder app with an attitude?
One thing I’ve noticed about myself —
when I speak from my own experience,
sometimes it accidentally sounds like:
“I’ve been through it, I’ve figured it out, now let me fix
you.”
Even when I mean well —
it can come across as if I’m putting myself on a pedestal.
That’s why I feel like stories of others hit differently.
Especially stories from the Prophet ﷺ
and his companions.
They’re not about you.
They’re timeless.
And they carry this quiet dignity —
like wisdom wrapped in humility.
There’s one story that always sticks with me.
A companion made a serious mistake.
He owned it. He was ashamed.
And he came to the Prophet ﷺ,
just… raw and real.
The Prophet didn’t shame him.
Didn’t scold him.
Didn’t go, “You knew this was haram!”
He listened.
He showed mercy.
He guided, softly.
No long lecture.
No guilt-tripping.
Just… hikmah.
That’s the feel I want when I speak the truth.
Not a “here’s what you should do” energy.
But a “hey… I get it” kind of warmth.
Because people don’t always need a solution.
Sometimes they just need a moment of peace —
to realise they can still come back.
If you ask me, the best kind of advice is the one that:
- Tells
a story, instead of proving a point
- Comes
from love, not ego
- Sounds
like a friend, not a referee
And honestly?
Sometimes the best thing you can say is… nothing.
Just sit next to them.
Pray for them.
Be there when they’re ready.
Because some people aren’t waiting for a sermon.
They’re waiting for someone who makes them feel:
“He gets me. He’s not trying to fix me.
He just wants to walk with me… back to something better.”
That’s all I’m trying to be.
Not someone who knows it all.
Just someone who’s also struggling —
but caught a little glimpse of light today,
and thought maybe you’d want to feel it too.
Malay Version
Rasa Hikmah, Bukan Khutbah
Kadang aku fikir…
kenapa nasihat yang baik pun boleh buat orang rasa serabut?
Jawapan aku: mungkin sebab cara kita bagi nasihat tu.
Sebab bila kita cakap benda yang betul —
tapi dengan nada macam nak bagi khutbah,
orang tak sempat rasa hikmah dia.
Dia rasa macam kena tembak, bukan kena peluk.
Contohnya?
Kita tegur orang pasal solat.
Atau pasal jujur.
Atau pasal couple.
Semua tu benda betul.
Tapi ayat kita pulak macam:
“Kan kau dah tau tu salah. Kenapa buat jugak?”
Atau yang classic:
“Bukan macam ni. Sepatutnya macam tu…”
Dia terus rasa defensive.
Sebab teguran tu datang dalam nada commanding, bukan nada understanding.
Aku selalu terfikir:
macam mana nak cakap benda yang orang dah tahu,
tapi tak buat dia rasa bodoh?
Contoh simple: mencuri tu haram.
Kawan kau mencuri.
Dia lebih tahu dari kau yang benda tu salah.
Tapi dia buat jugak — maybe sebab terdesak.
Atau penat.
Atau tak nampak jalan lain.
So kau nak tegur dia. Tapi kalau silap gaya, dia terus shut
down.
Aku perasan satu benda —
bila nasihat datang dari “pengalaman aku sendiri”,
kadang-kadang orang rasa macam,
“Ala… dia je yang banyak pengalaman. Dia je yang betul.”
Even kalau niat kita baik — still boleh bunyi macam nak highlight
diri sendiri.
That’s why aku rasa,
kisah orang lain — especially zaman Nabi ﷺ
dan para sahabat —
lebih powerful untuk sampaikan sesuatu.
Bila kita guna cerita sahabat,
orang tak rasa kita tengah bandingkan dia dengan kita.
Tapi dengan seseorang yang jauh lebih besar —
dan cerita tu datang dengan aura rahmat, bukan ego.
Ada satu kisah yang aku selalu ingat.
Seorang sahabat buat kesalahan besar.
Dia mengaku. Dia malu. Dia datang sendiri kat Nabi ﷺ.
Dan apa Nabi buat?
Baginda tak herdik.
Tak bentak.
Tak cakap, “Kau ni dah kenapa…”
Nabi tenang.
Nabi dengar.
Dan Nabi respon dengan penuh hikmah.
Tak ada khutbah. Tapi hati sahabat tu berubah.
Aku rasa… itu lah kekuatan hikmah.
Bukan dalam volume suara.
Bukan dalam banyak mana kita tahu.
Tapi dalam cara kita bagi rasa:
“Bro, aku tak judge kau. Aku faham. Tapi aku sayang kau, tu
sebab aku share benda ni.”
So kalau kau tanya aku, macam mana nak bagi nasihat yang
betul tanpa bunyi macam ustaz?
Aku akan cakap:
- Gunakan
kisah orang lain, bukan highlight diri sendiri.
- Cerita
slow-slow, bukan sumbat fakta.
- Bagi
ruang orang fikir, bukan bagi markah salah betul.
Dan kalau tak tahu nak cakap apa —
kadang cukup dengan duduk sebelah dia dan doa diam-diam.
Sebab kadang orang tak perlukan khutbah.
Dia cuma perlukan seseorang yang buat dia rasa…
“Eh… dia pun struggle. Tapi dia tak buat aku rasa bodoh. Dia
buat aku rasa boleh jadi baik balik.”
Dan aku harap sangat,
apa yang aku tulis ni —
boleh jadi salah satu suara macam tu.
Tak sempurna. Tapi jujur.
Tak pandai sangat. Tapi ikhlas.
Dari seorang lelaki yang tengah cuba cari Tuhan,
dan ajak kau tenang…
sama-sama.
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