Why should you believe in Allah?

I grew up in Berkane, where nobody debated whether God existed because the adhan crossed the rooftops and every conversation seemed to end in inshallah or alhamdulillah. God wasn’t a conclusion I’d reached; He was the air I’d always breathed.

Then I moved to Belgium and the air changed, because my roommate was a thoughtful, genuinely decent man raised in a home where God simply never came up. Islam hadn’t been argued away there; Islam was absent, and underneath that absence sat a whole account of life in which we’re here by chance, gone when we’re gone, and should try to be good in the time between. I didn’t have a crisis of faith, but for the first time I had a clean question: do I know this is true, or am I repeating what my walls said?

The plainest thing there is: something exists, and the universe can’t be the reason for its own existence when everything inside it depends on something else and the universe itself has a history. Keep pushing the explanations backwards and eventually you need something that didn’t begin, wasn’t caused and doesn’t borrow existence from anywhere, otherwise you’ve delayed the question without answering it.

Then there is the universe we got, whose laws stay still long enough for us to understand them. Its basic values sit inside a narrow range that allows stars, chemistry, cells and people asking about all of it. Calling that luck tells you how fortunate we are without telling you why the settings hold.

You speak as though truth matters even when lying would serve you better, and you demand justice from a universe that, on an atheistic account, owes nobody anything. Gratitude rises and looks for someone to thank; when the performance drops and a person is frightened enough, they call upward before building an argument. Tha whole inner recognition, Islam calls the fitrah, and although you can bury it under noise for years, it keeps breathing.

The case doesn’t hang on one clever proof, because existence, the order outside you, the moral demand inside you, and the hunger nothing created has managed to fill - they all keep pointing in the same direction. Ibrahim watched the star, moon and sun disappear and refused to give his heart to something that set, because he was looking for the One who doesn’t. Evidence can take you that far; then you decide whether convenience gets the final word.

This is the short answer. Chapter 2 of the book takes it all the way.