Faith as a Journey in Islam
Ibrahim and the Discovery of the Self
Abstract
Faith (īmān) in Islam is not a static possession but a transformative process—a journey of questioning, discovery, and surrender. The Qur’anic narrative of the Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham) presents the archetype of faith as existential movement rather than inherited belief. As the one who first called his followers muslimūn (those who surrender) (Qur’an 22:78), Ibrahim situates Islam’s origins in personal discovery rather than social conformity. His life traces a profound trajectory—from youthful rebellion against idolatry to the mature submission that defines tawḥīd, the oneness of God. This paper explores Ibrahim’s journey as an allegory of faith in Islam: beginning with negation (lā ilāha), the rejection of false gods and imposed beliefs, and culminating in affirmation (illā allāh), the realization of the transcendent source of all meaning. Faith, in this sense, is not inherited but found; not imposed but realized through the freedom of the self to say “no.”
Introduction: Faith as Movement, Not Possession
Within the Islamic tradition, īmān is not understood merely as the acceptance of dogma, but as an evolving act of becoming—a perpetual unfolding of consciousness toward the Divine. The Qur’an repeatedly frames belief not as static certainty but as a journey marked by doubt, inquiry, and testing. The life of Ibrahim, regarded as abū al-anbiyā’ (the father of prophets), provides the paradigmatic model for this journey. The Qur’an explicitly identifies him as “the one who named you muslimūn before” (22:78), situating the very identity of Islam within his spiritual path.
Ibrahim’s story therefore represents more than prophetic biography; it is a theology of faith as movement. As Seyyed Hossein Nasr notes, “The Abrahamic vision of faith is not a passive acceptance of truths but a dynamic surrender that begins in questioning and ends in certainty” (Nasr 2002, 41). Islam, through Ibrahim, redefines faith not as the quiet continuity of inherited belief, but as a conscious reorientation toward the Real (al-Ḥaqq).
Questioning as the Beginning of Faith
The Qur’anic narrative introduces Ibrahim as a young man who questioned the religious practices of his people. His father, Āzar, was a leader among idol-makers, yet Ibrahim refused to inherit his faith unexamined. He asked, “Do you worship what neither hears nor sees nor benefits you in anything?” (19:42–43). In this act, he rejected both filial and communal authority in favor of personal inquiry—a radical gesture in any historical context.
His rebellion culminated in the destruction of the idols, for which he was condemned to death by fire. Yet the Qur’an recounts: “We said, O fire, be coolness and safety upon Ibrahim” (21:69). This episode, beyond its miraculous character, symbolizes the purification of faith. The fire that was meant to annihilate becomes the crucible of authenticity. The young prophet emerges not merely as survivor but as hanīf—one who turns away from falsehood toward truth.
Muhammad Iqbal, in The Reconstruction of Religious Thought in Islam, reads Ibrahim’s defiance as the beginning of spiritual freedom: “True faith begins in protest—the protest of the finite ego against the tyranny of custom and unreason” (Iqbal 1934, 87). Ibrahim’s negation of inherited gods thus represents the first principle of Islamic faith: that truth cannot be inherited; it must be discovered.
The Solitary Journey: Discovery of the One
Having rejected the idols of his people, Ibrahim embarks on a solitary quest for understanding. The Qur’an narrates this journey as an intellectual and spiritual experiment:
“When the night covered him, he saw a star and said, ‘This is my Lord.’ But when it set, he said, ‘I do not love those that set.’ When he saw the moon rising, he said, ‘This is my Lord,’ but when it set, he said, ‘If my Lord does not guide me, I will surely be among the lost.’ When he saw the sun rising, he said, ‘This is my Lord, this is greater.’ But when it set, he said, ‘O my people, indeed I am free from what you associate [with God]’” (6:76–78).
This passage reveals a crucial dimension of Qur’anic epistemology: truth must withstand the test of transience. Ibrahim’s rejection of the setting stars, moon, and sun reflects the human intellect’s discernment that the ultimate cannot be contingent. As al-Ghazālī wrote in al-Munqidh min al-ḍalāl, the seeker of truth must pass through skepticism before attaining certainty; doubt is “a stage on the way to unveiling” (Ghazālī 1980, 30).
In rejecting each celestial object, Ibrahim demonstrates not disbelief but method—what Arkoun (1988) terms “critical faith”: a faith that interrogates rather than imitates. His eventual realization of the “One who created the heavens and the earth” (6:79) marks the birth of tawḥīd as both an intellectual and spiritual conclusion. Ibrahim thus becomes the archetype of the hanīf—the one who finds God through independent reflection (tafakkur), unmediated by priestly institutions or inherited orthodoxy.
The Test of Surrender: Faith as Responsibility
The journey of discovery culminates not in certainty but in trial. Ibrahim’s faith, now mature, must be tested through the most incomprehensible command: the sacrifice of his son. The Qur’an presents this episode as a dialogue between two believers:
“[Ibrahim] said, ‘O my son, I see in my dream that I am slaughtering you; so see what you think.’ He said, ‘O my father, do as you are commanded; you will find me, if God wills, among the patient’” (37:102).
This moment mirrors Ibrahim’s earlier confrontation with his father. The roles have reversed: the one once nearly sacrificed for disbelief now faces sacrificing his beloved son in the name of faith. Both the earlier fire and the present knife are instruments of annihilation transformed into symbols of divine mercy. In both instances, the act of surrender reveals—not destroys—the human spirit.
As Nasr observes, “The Abrahamic test transforms obedience into freedom; for in absolute surrender to the Real, man becomes most truly himself” (Nasr 1996, 89). Faith thus transcends intellectual assent and becomes moral responsibility—the readiness to bear the burden of trust (amānah) that distinguishes humankind (33:72).
The Declaration of Faith: “No” as the Beginning of Freedom
The Islamic declaration of faith, lā ilāha illā Allāh (“There is no god but God”), encapsulates Ibrahim’s journey. It begins with negation (lā), rejecting all false deities—be they idols of stone, ideology, or ego—and ends with affirmation (illā Allāh), the recognition of the singular Reality.
This structure mirrors the dialectic of Ibrahim’s life: destruction followed by discovery, negation preceding affirmation. As Nasr points out, “The ‘no’ of Islam is not nihilism but liberation; it is the necessary negation of all that veils the face of the One” (Nasr 2002, 65). Faith, then, begins in freedom: the freedom to say “no” to the gods of society, inherited authority, and imposed truth. Only through this negation can affirmation carry authenticity.
Thus, the shahāda is not merely a statement of belief—it is the spiritual reenactment of Ibrahim’s journey, repeated by every believer. Each utterance of lā ilāha illā Allāh renews the path from rebellion to surrender, from selfhood to servitude, from illusion to Reality.
Faith as Becoming
Ibrahim’s story transforms faith from inherited belief into existential vocation. To be Muslim is to walk a path of continual discovery—beginning in questioning, purified by struggle, and completed in surrender. Faith is not the opposite of doubt; it is its resolution through deeper vision.
As Iqbal wrote, “Faith is not the denial of reason but its fulfillment; it is the courage to affirm what reason discovers as its own limit” (Iqbal 1934, 112). The Qur’anic Ibrahim embodies this courage—the courage to question, to resist, to believe, and finally to surrender.
His journey, retold through centuries, reminds that Islam begins not with submission to power, but with freedom from it. To say lā ilāha illā Allāh is to affirm that no power, earthly or celestial, may claim ultimate authority over the human soul except the One who is beyond all limitation.
Faith, in this sense, is a becoming: the continuous unfolding of the self in its journey toward the Divine. As the Qur’an enjoins, “Follow the way of Ibrahim, who was hanīf, and he was not among the idolaters” (16:123). In following Ibrahim, the believer learns that faith is not found in the temple or the text alone, but in the journey itself—an ever-renewed act of turning toward the One.
References
al-Ghazālī, Abū Ḥāmid. Deliverance from Error (al-Munqidh min al-ḍalāl). Translated by R.J. McCarthy. Louisville: Fons Vitae, 1980.
Arkoun, Mohammed. Rethinking Islam: Common Questions, Uncommon Answers. Boulder: Westview Press, 1988.
Iqbal, Muhammad. The Reconstruction of Religious Thought in Islam. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1934.
Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. Ideals and Realities of Islam. London: George Allen & Unwin, 1996.
Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. The Heart of Islam: Enduring Values for Humanity. New York: HarperCollins, 2002.
The Qur’an. Translations from The Study Quran, edited by Seyyed Hossein Nasr et al. New York: HarperOne, 2015.