Imagine a guest who makes an effort to visit you from afar, one whom you hadn’t seen for an entire year.

Shortly after this guest leaves, you notice that they’d taken out the garbage, cleaned your home, repaired structural damages that would have otherwise posed a threat to your life, and renovated it, making it look just like it did when it was first built.

Upon noticing this, guilt consumes you as you realise just how short you’d fallen in honouring this guest. For starters, you kept giving him the impression that you wanted him to leave.

This is precisely what the month of Ramadan does; a guest that visits once a year, and upon its departure, it takes with it your sins, all of them, that had weighed so heavily on your back and were on the verge of jeopardising your hereafter.

Speaking about this,

*Ŕāsűlűllâh ﷺ* said:

“Whoever fasts the month of Ramadan out of belief and hope for the reward, *all* of his previous sins will be erased.”

*(Bukhari and Muslim)*

It’s through *this* lens that the people of iman *(faith)* observe Ramadan through – the lens of the hereafter – and so far from whining at the pangs of hunger or complaining from the disruption of sleeping patterns, their slogan is:

“O Řamâdhāān, don’t be in a rush to leave, for sins are heavy and hearts are ill!

*Allow me to host you as you deserve.”*