At university, I studied the Western hegemony: some arts, some science, some economics. I studied philosophy of the soul, and I managed to cope with the diagrams of it (the soul) that philosophers have come up with, although it was a strain.
Then I learned, from studying philosophy of science, that my references, my pillars, and the pillars of my society, psychology, empiricism, economics, free trade, and so forth, were themselves really just more diagrams, mainly offshoots of mathematics and philosophy.
Eventually, I realised that philosophy itself was another Greek legacy. Firstly I wondered if I was really alive, and really existing and so forth, but it seemed illogical to contemplate whether or not I was contemplating. Didn’t someone say “I think, therefore I am”?
I took that as being reasonable. How can you deny writing while you’re writing? How can you deny breathing while you’re breathing? I asked Buddhists about this and they said “In this form, you’re breathing, you’re writing, but if you are transformed to another life, with another form, then you may not be”. That seemed logical.
Anyway, after getting a bird’s eye view of my own society, I wondered about the produce of other empires. So I learned from the Hindus, investigated Aborigines, asked about Christianity and what were its roots, and so on. I wondered about all mankind.
I remember looking at a magazine in the uni library about Asian primitive cultures and seeing men with long poles hitting each other on the head, with villagers standing around to watch, to decide who was right in an argument about a woman. It seemed not far different from what went on in Sydney on Saturday night.
Even anthropology seemed interesting. I wondered where culture and civilisation themselves came from. How did we get here? Why was I using a washing machine not a stone and a river?
I studied the development of civilisation. I looked at Greek temples and wondered what they did in them. I began studying religions and trying them out as well. I went to temples, churches, the synagogues of Sydney, and pagan parties. I read and read.
Having weighed it all up, it is easy for me to know now that the revelations are from God. It wasn’t instant. I was sceptical and it took a long time. I made a lot of mistakes along the way and I still learn, but there is no doubt any more. Evidence is overwhelming.
Each prophet brought a sign to prove his credentials. Moses brought a magic stick that became a snake. It was because the people of his society revered good magicians, so God overwhelmed them with evidence in that domain. Jesus’ miracles were in the fields of healing and food. I’m sure there was a reason.
Muhammad’s miracle was in writing: the Qur’an. If you compare it to Homer, Dante, Bob Dylan, or anyone, the Qur’an is simply better quality without question. It is so far ahead you can’t measure the difference. It literally makes me cry over and again and reminds me of reading the Bible. Yet, unlike the Bible, it is a literary arrangement from God as well as a soul guide.
The Qur’an made the same claim: “Produce ten chapters like it if you can, but you never will”. It said: if you can produce something equal or better, then you’ll know its not from God.
Yet, since the time of the Qur’an entering human life, 1,400 years ago, there has never been a book to have the same effect. It has not been altered and has not been bettered. You can see a 1,000 year old copy of it in a Museum, and read it, and you can see for yourself that its still the same.
Millions have responded to the Qur’an, and every claim it made has been found true. I’m one of them. Until this day, I’ve been unable to prove that the Qur’an’s claim of divine origin is a false claim. Rather, it appears to me to be true. For all that I have, and all that I know, I can’t see how it could be other than from God.