The signs are self-evident in our creation, but they also reveal themselves throughout the passage of our lives. Some years back I was told that I could never have children of my own, the news broken by a Locum Doctor while my GP was on her summer holidays. Dealing with the sudden emotional burden, we cancelled our own travels that August and shed plenty of tears between us. Sometimes we would sit and read scriptures, making the supplications of Zachariah who cried to his Lord for a child until He answered that prayer. As time went by, however, I began to come to terms with this news and accept it as the absolute truth; while my wife prayed for a child daily, mine became occasional, for the doctors had convinced me of its futility despite my knowledge that He who created me only needs to say "Be" for new life to come from nothing. Every time my old friends from university announced that they were now a father my mind told me to be happy, but instead I felt sad. With every visit from my niece I had to hold back tears.

It was pain like mourning; like losing someone. It was a loss, but others did not seem to understand, driving life on as normal. It was the pain of knowing that you have reached the end of the line, that you will be an ancestor for no one, that you will never have grandchildren who will ask you about your youth. Even if my family worried that I would raise my children in accordance with my faith, not theirs, it was a dream of mine that they could trace their Muslim ancestry, that the English Muslim would not forever be viewed as the queer aberration that comes and goes with every conversion and death. Instead there was this pain.

Not long before we received this news I had a dream one night which troubled me. My wife often has what I would call spiritual dreams, but mine are non-descript meanderings of the mind. Yet this particular dream stood out and bothered me. A huge flood was overcoming me, its waves menacing and fierce, my resting place submerged. Somehow it prepared me for some devastating news and a difficult test. Without a doubt, those first few years were hard, but I came to terms with it all the same.

From where does one find the strength when he learns that perhaps things are not as clear cut as he was told? In England we were advised that the only way to have our own children was through donor insemination--a course of action we would never take--but in Turkey where that is not practiced at all, research has advanced apace to help people in our situation have children of their own. Over there a good number of men with exactly my condition are now fathers, some to twins and triplets. Thus the strain returned as we embarked on a new course of treatment; there was now a possibility that we could have a child, but also the possibility that we would again be disappointed. The treatment running beyond our agreed leave, the strain grew again, the two of us fearing what would happen to our jobs. The financial and emotional burden grew and we wondered from where our strength would come.

There had been so many times that I had read the phrase, "There is no strength except with Allah," but sometimes we have to put advice into practice before we see the truth of something. To rely solely on your Creator is one of the most beautiful aspects of faith. Sleepless for four nights, wandering silently through the streets of Istanbul, anxious about all of this, I did not know from where I would find the strength. Like so many times before I lamented that I was not strong enough for this, but instead, finding myself in beautiful mosques, I prayed. Suddenly the situation altered, relief had come. Our employers were sympathetic, our financial situation okay, the high emotions lessened. It was true: there is no strength except with God, the Creator of us all. His signs reveal themselves throughout the passage of our lives, but too often we do not see them.

Everything that we do depends on God. Although the various Christian denominations disagree about the nature of divine decree--and it is largely Roman Catholics that use the phrase, "God Willing"--all true believers recognise their dependence on the One who created them. The Muslim who litters his spoken plans with the phrase, "Insha'Allah"--if God wills--is not alone:

Now a word with all who say, "Today or the next day we will go off to such and such a town and spend a year there trading and making money." Yet you have no idea what tomorrow will bring. What is your life after all? You are no more than a mist, seen for a little while and then disappearing. What you ought to say is: "If it be the Lord's will, we shall live to do so and so."

This passage from the Letter of James reminds us that we are not self-sufficient; whether we live or die is purely the will of God. The words "God Willing" are not code for a lazy "whatever", but signify our reliance and trust in Him. Whilst some might place their life in God's care only for a moment when faced with disaster, we recognise that it is infinitely better for us if we ask for His help in all of our affairs. "Call upon Me," says God, "I will answer you."