Introduction
Why are we here? Every human being, whether religious or secular, eventually confronts this question. The Qur’an, Islam’s revealed scripture, offers not only a theological answer but a deeply existential one. At the centre of its moral narrative is the story of Adam—not merely as the first human, but as a reflection of the human condition itself. In his creation, fall, and redemption, we discover the core elements of our test in life: ego, lust, moral responsibility, and the silent compass within that points us back to truth.
These themes are not abstract. They are woven into the fabric of everyday decisions: whether to listen to arrogance or humility, to follow desire or discipline, to justify wrongdoing or seek purity. This is not a story for others—it is a mirror for us.
The First Test: Ego and Arrogance
God created Adam and commanded the angels and Iblis (Satan) to bow—not as a gesture of worship, but as a sign of recognition. All obeyed except Iblis.
“And when We said to the angels, ‘Prostrate to Adam,’ they all prostrated except Iblis. He said, ‘Should I prostrate to one You created from clay?’” (Qur’an 17:61)
Iblis refused, justifying his defiance with a claim of superiority.
“I am better than him. You created me from fire and him from clay.” (Qur’an 7:12)
This was not just pride—it was the reduction of another being’s worth in the name of one’s own. That is the core of arrogance: elevating oneself by demeaning others. It plays out in daily life when we mock those with less education, dismiss others because of their background, or reject an idea not because it’s false, but because we don’t like who said it. The Prophet Muhammad defined arrogance precisely:
“Arrogance is rejecting the truth and looking down on people.” (Sahih Muslim)
To refuse truth in order to protect one’s self-image is the most common and most dangerous form of self-deception. Iblis did it first. We repeat it endlessly.
The Second Test: Lust, Desire, and the Tree
God gave Adam and his spouse access to all the joys of the Garden—except one thing.
“And do not approach this tree, lest you become among the wrongdoers.” (Qur’an 2:35)
They were deceived by Iblis, and upon eating from the tree, their immediate response was shame.
“So he made them fall through deception. And when they tasted of the tree, their shame became visible to them, and they began to cover themselves with the leaves of the Garden.” (Qur’an 7:22)
The Qur’an doesn’t name the tree. But what follows—sudden awareness of nakedness, the instinct to cover, the onset of shame—indicates its symbolic nature. Javed Ahmad Ghamidi, a contemporary Islamic scholar, explains that the tree is a metaphor for the awakening of sexual consciousness. The act of “eating” was not about fruit—it was about engaging in intercourse before its appointed time and context.
“The tree symbolises the beginning of sexual awareness. Eating from it is a metaphor for the unleashing of desire without moral restraint.” (Javed Ahmad Ghamidi)
Lust in this sense is not confined to the sexual. It includes greed for wealth, status, beauty, power—any form of desire that seeks satisfaction without boundaries. But the sexual dimension is its most primal and charged form. The second test is not about rejecting desire—it is about containing it within a sacred order.
When Did We Agree to the Test?
This test of the human condition did not begin on Earth. According to the Qur’an, it began before we were born. God took a covenant from every soul, bearing witness to His Lordship.
“And when your Lord took from the children of Adam—from their loins—their descendants, and made them testify concerning themselves, [saying], ‘Am I not your Lord?’ They said, ‘Yes, we testify.’” (Qur’an 7:172)
This pre-temporal moment is not something we consciously remember—but it is embedded in our spiritual DNA. Every human soul carries the trace of that recognition, which forms the basis of our accountability.
Yet, the human being, even with this knowledge, rushed into the test. Near the end of Surah Al-Ahzab, the Qur’an describes the moment when the trust of moral responsibility was offered to the heavens and the earth—but only humans accepted it.
“Indeed, We offered the Trust to the heavens and the earth and the mountains, but they declined to bear it and feared it; but man undertook it. Indeed, he was unjust and ignorant.” (Qur’an 33:72)
Here, dhaluuman jahuula—“unjust and ignorant”—refers to our tendency to act out of haste, ego, and desire. We were given the capacity to choose, but often we misuse it. Still, God reminds us that even in our recklessness, His mercy remains constant.
“God does not burden a soul beyond what it can bear.” (Qur’an 2:286)
The test is immense, but never unfair. Every temptation, trial, and failure is weighed against what we have the strength to endure. Divine justice is not mechanical—it is merciful. Though humans may act hastily, God’s design accommodates our limits.
The Soul Knows – The Inner Compass
Even without scripture, a part of us already knows. Surah Ash-Shams speaks of the soul’s built-in moral compass.
“By the soul and the One who proportioned it, and inspired it with what is wrong and right for it…”(Qur’an 91:7–8)
“He has succeeded who purifies it, and he has failed who buries it.” (Qur’an 91:9–10)
This is not religious dogma—it’s observable reality. Every human has felt the silent protest of the soul after wrongdoing. The hollowness after betrayal. The sting of shame not because of social judgement, but internal clarity. This isn’t guilt imposed by religion—it’s the soul remembering what it already knows.
As Surah Al-Qiyamah confirms:
“But man is a witness against himself, even if he offers excuses.”(Qur’an 75:14–15)
This is the essence of the test: not whether others see your deeds, but whether you can lie to yourself—and get away with it. Deep down, you can’t.
Conclusion
The story of Adam is not a fable. It is a blueprint. It reveals the shape of the test every human inherits: the struggle to overcome arrogance, to discipline desire, to honour the promise made before time, and to listen when the soul speaks. Islam does not paint life as a punishment or a meaningless accident. It defines it as a test, but one that is measured, merciful, and tailored to each soul’s capacity.
What makes one succeed? It is not perfection. It is tazkiyah—the effort to purify, to realign, to return. What causes failure? Not mistake—but burial: when truth is seen and rejected, when the soul is silenced, when the self becomes its own god.
This is not a message limited to Muslims. It is the story of every human who wrestles with ego, desire, shame, and the quiet longing to return to something higher. That is the test. And your life is its answer.
Engraved Light 
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