It is difficult to recall the journey between faith, disbelief and agnosticism in any detail, for the latter two are characterised by feelings rather than action. Nevertheless, the signposts remain. I do not remember when my belief in God returned, but I do know that for a long time I would only utter a portion of the Nicene Creed: "I believe in one God, creator of Heaven and Earth." For the most part, from the point of my rejection of belief I did believe in God--only occasionally did I find myself without any faith at all--but I never regained the belief that Jesus was God. While many people talk of not understanding the Trinity, my problem was much more elemental; I had no deep philosophical objection, only a strong feeling inside that God was completely separate from his creation.

It was as my first year at university drew to a close that I began to feel the need to find Truth. During the summer holidays I attended a service at All Souls Langham Place with my maternal grandmother where I listened to a sermon which impressed me, inspiring me to reform myself. With the start of the new term I began attending All Souls every Sunday just to listen to the sermon--and perhaps to get a good lunch. My weekly trek from King's Cross to Regents Street lasted for about two of months, only for it to end abruptly. On my final visit the evangelical preacher invited all those who were still unsure about his message to stay behind after the service for whom he promised a clearer explanation. Since that was my very reason for attending, I decided to accept his invitation and waited in the church beside a kind elderly couple. His advice, however, angered me, for it was a lazy explanation, poorly thought through for an agnostic audience such as this and I decided not to return the following week.

At university I had disassociated myself from many of those I had known the previous term and kept myself to myself. I felt that I had been unduly influenced by friends into behaving foolishly in my first year and now found myself seeking to escape that way of life. But for the company of a friend of mine who was interested in Islam although she was not Muslim, I became quite a recluse and would not even go to sit in the pub, preferring instead to seek out new corners of the library and wander the greener parts of London. As the academic year progressed I became obsessed with my search for faith. Although I knew very few Muslims other than those with whom I had come into conflict during the course of the previous year, I started to read into Islam, impressed by the manners of one student I had never spoken to, the content of books in the library and the general enthusiasm of my non-Muslim friend for this alien culture, and gradually I began to appreciate this unknown faith. I found myself contemplating two traditions--sometimes simultaneously, sometimes in turns--negotiating my path back towards God.