For as long as I can remember, the word "why" has echoed through the chambers of my consciousness. It's not just a question; it's a doorway to reality, a key to understanding, a challenge to complacency. "Why?" is the foundation upon which curiosity builds its castle, and yet, it's also the abyss that stares back when we dare to question existence itself.
There comes a point in every thinking person's life when they must ask "why?"—not just about mundane things, but about existence itself. Why are we here? Why does anything exist at all? This single question, if asked sincerely, can unravel everything you thought you knew and rebuild it with deeper understanding. It's a question so profound that I believe everyone should ask it at least once in their lifetime, not as a casual inquiry, but as a genuine search for meaning.
"Why does badness exist?" I've asked this countless times. Watching news of wars, hearing stories of suffering, seeing injustice in the world—it all begs this question. If there is goodness, why must its opposite exist? Why do children suffer? Why do innocent people face hardship?
"Why do we exist?" What's the purpose of this brief flicker of consciousness between two eternities of nothingness? Are we just biological accidents on a random rock in space, or is there something more? The very fact that we can ask this question suggests we're meant to ask it.
"Why does evil happen?" Why do people choose to harm others? Why do systems of oppression persist? Why does hatred find fertile ground in human hearts?
"Why do people hate other ethnicities?" This one particularly confounds me. We're all human—same biological machinery, same capacity for love and pain, same basic needs. Yet we build walls between ourselves based on arbitrary differences.
The questions multiply: Why is there suffering? Why do good people die young? Why is the world so beautifully complex yet so painfully broken? Why do we have consciousness at all? Each "why" leads to another, and another, creating an infinite regression that can drive a person mad if they follow it without an anchor.
After years of asking "why" and receiving only silence or unsatisfactory answers from philosophy, science, and various worldviews, I found my anchor. Alhamdulillah, I am thankful that I'm a Muslim, and that the Quran provides answers to many of the questions I've been searching for.
I have a stronger belief and faith in my Lord, Allah Jalla fie 3ulaah, that He has a good reason for creating me, for testing me, for allowing events to unfold as they do. The Islamic understanding of life as a test, of hardship as purification, of free will as both gift and responsibility—these concepts provide a coherent framework that satisfies the deepest "whys" in a way nothing else has.
The Quran says: "And I did not create the jinn and mankind except to worship Me" (51:56). This answers the fundamental "why" of existence. We're here to worship Allah, to know Him, to love Him, to obey Him—and in doing so, to achieve our highest potential as human beings.
Despite this faith, I must confess: I don't fear Allah as He deserves. I see how I'm slacking off in my deen, how I fall short in my prayers, how I fail to implement His commands fully in my life. There's a constant tension between what I believe and how I act, between the ideal Muslim I want to be and the flawed human I am.
Yet this tension itself is part of the journey. I always want to become a better Muslim, to grow closer to Allah, to purify my intentions and actions. I want to remain steadfast on this path until my last breath, to die believing in what I know to be true, to meet my Lord with a heart that, despite its flaws, tried to turn to Him.
All this time, I've been looking around at other religions, trying to understand globally what each one offers, what its core message is. With each exploration, my brain ends up hurting from all the different perspectives, sectarian viewpoints, and conflicting interpretations.
I've given up on looking into sects like Shi'ism, Ahmadiyya, Maturidism, Ash'arism, and others because I often find points of disagreement. Yet I must admit my own limitation: I am too unknowledgeable to discuss such matters thoroughly or to prove definitively why I believe otherwise.
The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said: "Seeking knowledge is obligatory upon every Muslim" (Ibn Majah). This hadith echoes in my mind constantly. I pray In Shaa Allah that I'll be able to change my state of ignorance by gaining knowledge, that I will be able to articulate my points and my aqeedah effectively, so that I may In Shaa Allah be able to guide others toward what I believe to be the Truth.
This thought—the need for knowledge amid confusion—is one of the many things that always immediately comes to mind. In our generation, there are so many sects, so many people who believe they're following the right path, so many who claim to be Muslims but go against the clear teachings of Islam.
There are those who believe they're right but are actually extremists, thinking they're upholding the truth while violating its spirit. There are others who water down the religion until it becomes meaningless, accommodating every whim of society. It's chaotic, confusing, and getting increasingly out of hand.
One thing I recommend to anyone interested in religion, especially those considering reverting: Gain knowledge. But not the sectarian, divisive knowledge that pits Muslim against Muslim. Rather, seek the core message that the prophets came with—the message of submission to God, of moral responsibility, of accountability in the Hereafter.
Study what God expects from us in this world. Eventually, everyone will die, and that reality cannot be without purpose. Death either gives meaning to life or renders it meaningless—there is no middle ground.
Looking at other Abrahamic faiths:
The Jews, for example, believe we must follow God's commands meticulously—and many do so with admirable dedication—but sometimes the forest is lost for the trees, with excessive focus on minutiae overshadowing the spirit of the law.
The Christians believe God died for humanity's sins, which conceptually offers incredible grace, but in practice, I've seen how this can lead to moral complacency. Some proceed to commit every sin imaginable while believing salvation is guaranteed through mere belief, divorcing faith from action in ways that trouble me deeply.
Islam, on the other hand, comes perfectly balanced between these two extremes. There are rules we must follow—clear guidance for how to live—but it comes with freedom and choice. You can obey or disobey, but you're responsible for your choices. The balance between God's mercy and His justice, between divine decree and human free will, between this world and the next—it resonates as profoundly coherent.
I don't understand how people can think it's acceptable to associate partners with God or to create their own deities. The very notion that the Creator of the heavens and the earth—the Infinite, Eternal, All-Powerful—could be compared or associated with something He created, like stone, sun, moon, or human beings, doesn't just confuse me; it angers me on a fundamental level. The sheer inappropriateness of the comparison feels like an offense against logic itself.
Generally speaking, this entire religion debate arena has become exhausting for me. I've left debating with other people because it feels brain-damaging. The endless back-and-forth, the semantic games, the gotcha moments—they rarely lead to truth and often lead to animosity.
My lack of knowledge is another reason I avoid debates. I don't want to fall into the category of people who spread misinformation, who argue passionately about things they don't fully understand, who contribute to the noise rather than the signal.
Oh well. At last, I repeat my suggestion, the distilled essence of all these thoughts: For people who want to gain knowledge or are serious about converting to a different religion, study the vanilla core of the religion—the original message sent to the people. Not the sectarian views. Don't even go near them initially.
Take truth from whoever speaks it, regardless of their label. Listen to the majority consensus of reputable scholars within any tradition. Attend to their speeches and writings with an open but critical mind.
God guides whom He wills. This fundamental truth humbles me. Despite all our efforts, understanding, and searching, guidance ultimately comes from Allah. Our responsibility is to be sincere in our search, to use our intellect honestly, and to pray for guidance.
It's crucial to maintain mutual respect even in profound disagreement. The person you're speaking to is a human being with dignity, worthy of kindness even if you think their beliefs are completely wrong. Keep the respect, be friendly, embody the manners that your faith—whatever it may be—prescribes for dealing with others.
And may God be with you, and guide us all to the straight path—the path of those upon whom He has bestowed favor, not of those who have earned His anger, nor of those who are astray.
السَّلَامُ عَلَيْكُمْ
Assalamu alaikum