The Hardest Sunnah Today? Controlling Your Tongue

Some of the most difficult tests in life don’t involve wealth, health, or status. They come quietly, in the smallest everyday moments—like when you feel the urge to respond to someone’s insult, or when you’re bursting to share something juicy about someone else. At first glance, controlling the tongue may seem like a small sunnah, but in our hyper-connected, emotionally reactive world, it’s possibly one of the hardest. Especially today, when everyone is encouraged to speak their truth, clap back, and have the last word, staying silent or choosing words wisely feels like swimming against the tide.

The tongue moves quickly—often faster than our intentions, and almost always faster than our hearts. Before we realize it, we’ve said something sarcastic, unkind, or unnecessary. What follows might be regret, or even worse, numbness. The damage has already been done. A friend withdraws. A loved one cries. A family rift deepens. We may forget what we said in a heated moment, but the other person might remember it for a lifetime. And that’s the scary part: sometimes, it only takes one word to destroy years of trust.

In Islam, the weight of our words is not taken lightly. The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ taught us that a person might say something seemingly insignificant, without thinking, but it could lead them to the Hellfire. Imagine that—a few words spoken without caution could become the cause of spiritual ruin. In contrast, a simple kind word, or staying silent when provoked, could raise a person in the eyes of Allah. That’s how powerful the tongue is. It can be a ladder to Jannah or a staircase to destruction.

Nowadays, the tongue doesn’t stop at speech. It has evolved into our thumbs and fingertips. The way we type, comment, tweet, and caption—those are all extensions of our voice. A mean comment under someone’s post, a backhanded compliment, a passive-aggressive status—all of it counts. Just because it's digital doesn’t mean it's invisible. Angels still record it. And while we may hide behind a screen, our character is exposed in every word we share.

Think about it: when was the last time you regretted remaining silent? Most of us regret what we say, not what we don’t say. But the desire to speak—to win the argument, to share the gossip, to make the joke—overpowers our conscience. And we live in a time that rewards this behavior. People are applauded for being savage, for roasting others, for telling it like it is. But Islam teaches a deeper kind of strength. One that doesn’t need to humiliate others to feel powerful. One that finds dignity in silence.

This strength is internal. It’s not showy or loud. It’s the strength to pause before speaking, to check your niyyah before sharing, and to ask yourself, “Is what I’m about to say pleasing to Allah?” That internal process is what separates good character from just clever speech. And this is exactly why the Prophet ﷺ was known for either speaking good or remaining silent. It wasn’t just about etiquette—it was about embodying mercy, even through words.

Holding back isn't easy. It requires intention and a high level of self-awareness. And that’s precisely why controlling the tongue is such a profound act of worship. It’s private. It’s quiet. No one sees your struggle when you bite your tongue instead of clapping back. But Allah sees it. And He knows the battle you’re fighting inside.

In our daily conversations, the tongue is constantly tempted. We’re tempted to exaggerate our achievements, to speak about others behind their backs, to make fun of someone to feel included, or to vent in the name of honesty. These moments happen so often that we become desensitized to them. Backbiting becomes casual. Sarcasm becomes our go-to humor. Criticizing others becomes entertainment. It becomes so normal that we stop recognizing the harm.

But let’s not forget: even if the person we’re speaking about never hears our words, Allah does. And the angels write. And those records don’t disappear unless we repent. Every word has weight. Every word matters.

Sometimes, people justify their harshness by saying, “I’m just being real” or “It’s the truth.” But truth without compassion is still cruelty. And being real doesn’t give anyone a license to be rude. The Prophet ﷺ spoke the truth, but with gentleness. His words didn’t belittle people. Even when correcting someone, he uplifted them. He never mocked. Never shamed. His silence was dignified, and his speech was intentional.

Silence, when used wisely, is not emptiness. It’s a form of presence. It says: I don’t need to say everything I think. I don’t need to win every argument. I don’t need to hurt someone just because I’m hurting. It’s a refusal to let the ego lead. And in that silence, there’s power.

But this doesn’t mean we stay silent in the face of injustice. Islam does not ask us to be passive. What it does ask is that we choose our words with taqwa—with consciousness of Allah. To speak up when it’s needed, and to remain silent when it’s wise. The Qur’an itself teaches us: “Say that which is best.” Not just what is true—but what is best. What helps. What heals. What guides. That’s the filter we should be using.

Every word we say is a reflection of our inner state. If our hearts are bitter, our words will cut. If our hearts are soft, our words will soothe. That’s why purifying the tongue starts with purifying the heart. Fill your heart with gratitude, and your words will naturally become kind. Fill your heart with resentment, and your speech will become toxic. It's all connected.

So how do we begin to change this? It starts with mindfulness. It starts with holding yourself accountable for what you say—even when no one else does. Pay attention to your conversations. Are they focused on building or breaking? Are you speaking more about people than to Allah? Are you using your voice to complain more than to make dua? These questions might seem small, but they reveal a lot about where our hearts are.

Surround yourself with people who remind you to guard your tongue. People who don’t feed your gossip habit. People who call you out when you cross the line. Because the people you talk with shape the person you become. And what we normalize in conversation becomes the standard we live by.

One powerful practice is simply pausing. Before responding to anything—pause. Before making a comment—pause. Before hitting send—pause. That small pause gives your heart a chance to catch up to your emotions. It gives your taqwa a moment to speak up. It gives your better self a chance to choose silence over sarcasm, dua over dragging, peace over pride.

Another way to heal your tongue is to fill it with remembrance. Replace idle talk with dhikr. Let “Alhamdulillah” become your response to hardship. Let “Astaghfirullah” replace your complaints. Let “SubhanAllah” decorate your daily reflections. A tongue busy with the remembrance of Allah has no room to destroy others.

And if you fall—because you will—don’t give up. Seek forgiveness. Make tawbah for the times you used your words recklessly. Apologize to people when needed. Let your humility guide your healing. Controlling the tongue is not a one-time victory. It’s a lifelong journey. But every step, every pause, every silent moment for Allah’s sake is counted.

We live in a world that glorifies being opinionated, outspoken, and edgy. But as Muslims, we’re taught to glorify something else: adab, self-restraint, sincerity. These aren’t just traits—they’re spiritual tools. They protect us. They beautify us. They define who we are when no one is looking.

Your tongue can build someone’s confidence or break it. It can spread light or darkness. It can bring you closer to Allah—or pull you away. You choose. Every word is a choice. And that choice echoes in your soul.

So be gentle with your speech. Be wise with your silence. Be generous with your praise. Be cautious with your jokes. And above all, be mindful that everything you say is a reflection of what you carry inside.

Controlling your tongue may not get you likes, applause, or clout. But it will get you peace. It will protect your relationships. It will earn you reward. It will refine your character. And most importantly, it will bring you closer to the Prophet ﷺ—who had the purest tongue, the kindest speech, and the most powerful silence.

In the quiet resistance of holding your tongue, there is strength. In the decision to speak with care, there is wisdom. And in the moments you choose restraint for the sake of Allah, there is barakah that words can’t even describe.

This is the hardest sunnah today—not because it’s outdated, but because it demands sincerity. It asks you to show up with integrity in every conversation, every reply, every comment. And in a world that rewards noise, being intentional with your words is a revolutionary act of worship.