My daughter asks: How do we know God exists?

At the dinner table, between one bite and another, my fourteen-year-old daughter surprised me by saying that everyone at school calls her an atheist. According to her account, she had not denied the existence of God, nor mocked a religion, nor attacked anything sacred; all she did was ask her classmates: What if the religion we follow is not the true one? And how do we know that God exists?

Two questions for which she found no reassuring answer. According to her, her confusion was met with talk about polytheism and the necessity of knowing acts of worship and obedience, until she felt that the question itself was an accusation. What pained me most was not that she asked, but that she returned with the impression that she must hide her question so as not to be misunderstood.

As her father, who studied in the traditional education system and graduated in Sharia, I found myself facing a shortcoming that I cannot entirely blame on the school. I had long assumed that the faith settled in my own soul would automatically settle in hers, and that what she hears about religion is enough to build her understanding of it. But that night revealed to me that our children may memorize many answers, yet remain alone before the questions that truly matter to them.

I found no better beginning than listening: to understand what she is asking about before rushing to respond, and to distinguish between her desire for knowledge and the labels attached to her. Asking for proof of belief is not in itself a denial of it, and seeking understanding is not equivalent to mockery or stubbornness. The question may be the first sign that a child has begun to engage with what they have learned with awareness and responsibility.

In my reading of Islam, faith is not based on disabling the mind, nor does the abundance of memorized material replace understanding its meanings. The Quran calls for looking into the universe, reflecting on the self, contemplating revelation, and demands that those who make claims provide their proof. Worship in this context is a connection with God that is nourished by knowledge and love, and in turn, strengthens faith and nurtures the heart. It has been narrated from Abu Darda, may God be pleased with him, that he said:

«Reflecting for an hour is better than praying for a whole night»

, which is a statement attributed to him with a sound chain of narration, reported by Ibn Abi Shaybah and Al-Bayhaqi, not a prophetic hadith as is commonly circulated.

Among the most profound expressions of the status of reflection is the hadith of Aisha, may God be pleased with her, regarding the Prophet, peace be upon him, standing in prayer one night, weeping until he soaked the ground. When Bilal saw him, he asked him: Why do you weep when God has forgiven your past and future sins? He informed him of the revelation of the Almighty's saying: ﴿Indeed, in the creation of the heavens and the earth and the alternation of the night and the day are signs for those of understanding﴾ (Al-Imran: 190), and he said:

«Should I not be a grateful servant? ... Woe to him who reads it and does not reflect upon it»

. Reported by Ibn Hibban in his Sahih, and authenticated by Al-Albani in Al-Silsilah Al-Sahihah. The scene combines worship, gratitude, and contemplation, reminding us that reading the verses does not fulfill its purpose if reflection on their meanings is absent.

The following verses describe those of understanding as those who remember God while standing, sitting, and on their sides, and reflect on the creation of the heavens and the earth, then say: ﴿Our Lord, You did not create this in vain; exalted are You, so protect us from the punishment of the Fire﴾ (Al-Imran: 191). It combines remembrance, thought, supplication, and action into one life of faith. It is not necessary to extract from this a single chronological order that everyone must follow; contemplation may lead to faith, it may increase a believer's faith, and worship may open a door of understanding for the heart that it had not previously noticed.

Therefore, the question that should occupy us is not: How do we stop our children from thinking? But rather: How do we help them think honestly, distinguish between evidence and impression, and know that admitting not knowing is the beginning of learning?

In the story of Abraham, peace be upon him, there is light on this meaning. The Almighty said: ﴿And when Abraham said, "My Lord, show me how You give life to the dead." [Allah] said, "Have you not believed?" He said, "Yes, but [I ask] only that my heart may be satisfied."﴾ (Al-Baqarah: 260). He confirmed his faith by saying "Yes," and asked to witness how life is given so that his heart might be satisfied. It is not correct to make this evidence that he doubted God's power, just as it is not correct to overlook the lesson in the story: seeking more clarity does not contradict the essence of faith.

Utilizing this meaning in raising our children does not mean equating their experiences with the stations of the prophets; rather, it means that increasing tranquility is a valid goal, and that an answer is better than a reprimand when the question is sincere.

As for my daughter's question about inherited religion, it touches on an issue the Quran addressed repeatedly, when it criticized taking the tradition of ancestors as sufficient argument to reject the truth. The belonging we receive from the family gives us a start, but it does not exempt us from understanding. It is not enough to say to a child asking about the validity of their belief: This is what we found our people doing; for the child of every religion can hear the same answer.

Abu Hamid al-Ghazali expressed in "Deliverance from Error" his preoccupation with the effect of upbringing on people's beliefs, and his desire to distinguish the knowledge he is certain of from the imitation he received in his youth. His experience remains an intellectual and spiritual experience with its own context, not a prescription that every believer must go through. It is not required for a person to manufacture doubt for their faith to be valid, but whoever experiences confusion needs someone to help them understand it, not someone to push them to hide it.

Scholars have differed on the methods of establishing the knowledge of God, and on the status of innate nature, reflection, and reasoning, and their expressions have varied on the first duty of the accountable person. There is no need to burden a conversation with a fourteen-year-old girl with all the details of this disagreement; it is enough for us here to realize that people's questions and paths of understanding differ, and that an answer that satisfies one person may leave another with questions that need more clarification.

But defending my daughter's right to ask is not enough on its own. She asked: How do we know that God exists? And this is a question that deserves an answer that goes beyond saying that the question is allowed.

Among the Quranic approaches to this answer is His saying: ﴿Or were they created by nothing, or are they the creators [of themselves]?﴾ (At-Tur: 35). The verse directs attention to the origin of human existence: Did he create himself, or was he found without a creator? For man did not exist and then came into being, and he cannot grant himself existence before he exists. From here, the reasoning begins with the need of the contingent being for a creator.

This reasoning is not based on the phrase "everything that exists has a creator," otherwise the question would return to the Creator Himself; rather, it is based on the fact that what happens after it did not exist needs an explanation for its existence. In the faith-based conception, God is not another link in the chain of creatures, but rather the Creator who does not derive His existence from others. This is an argument that needs its premises explained and objections to it discussed, not to be thrown out in a quick phrase and then demanding the questioner to be silent.

There is also contemplation of the order of the universe and its comprehensibility, of life and consciousness, and of questions of purpose and meaning. These are doors to reflection and reasoning, and are not a substitute for scientific research into how nature works. We should not link faith to a gap in our knowledge, saying that everything we are unable to explain today is independent evidence of God's existence; for science may advance in explaining the phenomenon, while the question about the origin of existence and its basis remains posed on another level.

As for the second question, about the validity of the religion we follow, it is not automatically resolved simply by proving the existence of a creator. It requires research into revelation and prophethood, and into the evidence of the truthfulness of the message, its content, and its sources. It is an act of honesty with our children to separate the two questions, and to give each its due, instead of providing an answer to one as if it suffices for the other.

Here comes the status of contemplating the Quran: to read it to understand its meanings, contexts, and arguments, not just to collect verses to place in opposition to the question. The Almighty said: ﴿[This is] a blessed Book which We have revealed to you, [O Muhammad], that they might reflect upon its verses and that those of understanding would be reminded.﴾ (Sad: 29). Contemplation requires patience, learning, and distinguishing between the text and our understanding of it, and between what we know and what we need to ask specialists about.

Likewise, one should distinguish between a cognitive question whose owner wants an answer, a passing thought they dislike, and an obsessive thought that repeats and harms them. These are different states, and it is not correct to treat them all as one doctrinal position. In Sahih Muslim, some companions mentioned to the Prophet, peace be upon him, thoughts they considered too great to utter, and he said:

«That is clear faith»

. This was understood in light of their aversion to those thoughts and their considering them great, not that their content itself is faith. In this is what prevents haste in judging a person because of what occurs in their mind.

I am not saying that teaching children prayer and acts of obedience is wrong, or that it should be postponed until their questions end; for upbringing in worship, building character, and deepening knowledge are complementary matters. The mistake is to make the command to worship the only answer to a question that seeks evidence, or to assume that constant guidance replaces good listening.

I also know that a teacher may be surprised by a question for which they do not have an answer, just as a father may be surprised. There is nothing in saying "I don't know, and I will research with you" that diminishes their status; rather, it contains a practical lesson in honesty. As for the hasty answer, the threat, or the name-calling, it may leave an impact further than the question itself, and push the child to silence before us without their confusion being resolved.

The school's responsibility does not stop at providing the answer; it includes protecting the student from mockery and labeling because of their questions. If the label "atheist" turns into a means to embarrass a girl in front of her classmates, this behavior must be addressed, and everyone must be taught that discussing ideas does not permit insulting their holders, and that the question is met with dialogue, not by putting intentions on trial.

My daughter did not tell me she denied God; she said she wants to know. My duty is to take her words seriously, and to reassure her that her love and status with me do not depend on hiding her questions. My role is not limited to refuting an accusation against her, but includes learning how to dialogue with her, and admitting that what convinced me may need a different explanation for her to understand it.

I do not fear that my daughter asks, but I fear that she learns that the question finds nothing with us but accusation. I do not want her to memorize my certainty with her tongue, while her confusion remains alone in her heart. I want our relationship to be a space where she can think and speak, and find someone who listens to her even when they do not have a ready answer.

So if your son or daughter asks you: How do we know that God exists? Do not start by judging them, and do not rush to close the conversation. Ask them what they mean, listen to what occupies them, then share what you know with clarity and kindness. And if your knowledge ends at a question, say: I don't know, but we can research and learn. For the trust you preserve in that moment may be the beginning of a dialogue that spans years, and bears fruit in deeper understanding and more conscious faith.