The self-congratulating activist, revelling in his mastery of identity politics, can’t help but boast of his radical hatred of the Muslim convert — those irritating upstarts everywhere held in contempt — rallying against their pretence of belonging or their claim to the prophetic inheritance. Real Muslims are sick of Muslim converts, they remind us to great acclaim, their declarations liked, reposted and quoted all over.

And not equal are the good deed and the bad. Repel hostility with the better deed; and thereupon, the one whom between you and him is enmity will become as though he was a devoted friend.

Quran 41:34

Given everything our faith says about being humble, merciful and kind… and about controlling our anger and tongues… restraining ourselves mindfully… one has to wonder: “Why are so many of us such jerks?”

On the train to London the other day, I was fooling about. Seated directly opposite my beloved, I would gaze into her eyes, my toes tapping hers. But no matter how much I tried, her own eyes would not meet mine, but would dart around, taking in the scenery beyond the carriage windows instead.

You can view the tests life throws at you as a disaster, or an opportunity.

I meet the born-again kind of faithful, bouncing off the walls in their ecstasy, whirling around convinced that they’ve found spiritual enlightenment. Good for them, but I don’t wear my faith that way.

Where are the cool headed folk who verify the news they receive? Where are those who pause to probe when they receive alarming information via social media, which seeks to foment and stir up communal tensions? Where those whose first question is, “Is this true?” Where those who will reserve judgement until all the facts are known? Where are those who recall what is written in their Book: “Do not mix truth and falsehood!” Where are those who remember anything of their faith at all? Won’t you please stand up?

One day I may commit to inner reform, closing the door on the latest whim that takes my fancy. No, not today, I will tell myself, as I reluctantly roll back on my latest design.

Forgive me if I sound harsh in regards to the state of the Friday sermon. I admit I have high standards, based on the milieu in which I was raised.

God says in our Book: “Call upon Me. I will answer.”

Without fail, every Friday at 1.30pm, the same thought hits me: “We must make hijrah to another town.” By then, I will have missed the Punjurdlish speech, but will have caught the short English bayaan midway through. And what can I say? To be polite: it’s utter nonsense, always.

Call it divine comedy, call it the clearest of signs. The Architect of all creation planted a flag on my timeline — an easter egg, if you will — to be unveiled twenty-one years later.

Often, many of us have a primitive mindset, mixing honouring people with telling the truth. By and large, we prefer honour to truth. In reality, though, criticism is a positive force. The approach that something is true because it is old or is found in our books is very problematic. It could be true, but it might not be. Everything has to be investigated on its own merits.

Follow those who ask no payment. Over and over, our Book repeats this refrain. Follow right guidance… the word of truth…

Yet on the contrary, we have turned guidance into a commodity to be bought and sold, marketing it with cringey videos. Guidance is yours… for a hefty fee.

Religion appears to be a lucrative enterprise for the astute businessman. But I say: don’t follow the entrepreneur offering to save your soul in exchange for a subscription.

The path is simple. You just have to take it up. “And why should I not worship He who created me and to whom you will be returned?” It’s not a commodity; it’s a way of life.

If you’re trying to determine what kind of Muslim I am, you won’t find an answer, because I’m not interested in that nonsense. We’re not asked to use any of the labels which seem to occupy so many Muslims nowadays. What we’re called to is quite simple.

May the sleepless one find the rest they yearn.

Verily in the remembrance of God do hearts find rest.

From Quran 13:28

My wife messages me, upset. We had made plans when we set out from home. I’d go to the local mosque for Jummah and make my own way back to return to work, while our lad would go with our neighbours to the central mosque down in town. However, when it came to it, our son refused to go.

“Are you a believer or not?”

Life continuously and repeatedly humbles us. Over and over again, we are taught that we are mostly wrong about just about everything. Sometimes it takes just hours to learn that we were mistaken; sometimes it takes decades.

I think without my faith, I would have struggled to deal with the emotional impact of my diagnosis. By faith, though, I don’t mean the faith community to which I belong — if anything, that is mostly unhelpful, for Muslims carry with them a lot of prejudice and cultural baggage which often makes them insensitive to the effects of a condition such as this. By faith I mean my relationship with my Creator, and the practical toolkit the faith provides in dealing with loss and hardship.

Muslims are just people like anyone else. Some are good, some are bad. Most of us are somewhere in between. Religion can be used for both good and bad ends. This applies to humanity in general. The same applies to political ideologies. The history of the twentieth-century teaches us this much.

Religion and culture are close relatives, but they are not the same thing. Reform starts from within. It is a form of liberation, which seeks to make us the best versions of ourselves. Too often, culture imposes the opposite, demanding we serve traditions over justice, fairness or truth, even while outwardly appealing to religion as the collective identity. In the search for truth, you have to delve beneath the surface, to seek out all that has been obscured. Follow your heart.

Years ago, when I first came here, I knew not to take my in-laws seriously when they insisted on perpetually mocking our faith. They described themselves as socialists, but I could already see they were hyper-capitalists.

In my first year at university, there was a young man from my halls of residence who used to follow me around, condescendingly addressing me as “boy” whenever he had the opportunity. His role, it seemed, was to stop me talking to a young woman who was studying exactly the same subjects as me and was in all of my lectures and tutor groups. We considered one another friends — indeed, she described me as the first friend she made at university. But that young man was having none of it, and was determined to keep me in check.

A joyful Saturday morning. Second jammat mostly in English. Hurray! A good contingent of Englishis in attendance. Hurray again! A mixed crowd too. And friendly faces, exchanging salams. A good vibe.

Let it be that our paths crossed for a good reason all those years ago. Let it be for a good reason that I never forgot their names. Let it be for a good reason that I still remember them in my prayers. Let it be for a good reason that thoughts of them were injected into my mind this past winter. Let it be for a good reason that strange realities were uncovered this past spring. Let it be for a good reason that long-forgotten interactions inscribed an indelible imprint on my heart. May the One guide us all and rectify for us all of our affairs. Let it all be for the best of reasons.

At Jummah today, I couldn’t help marveling at a beautiful moment. There I was kneeling on the ground, an elderly Asian gentleman on my left and a young African man on my right, this eccentric European sandwiched between them. This is the fraternity I embraced. All the world, united in humility, joined by the One.

Who would I listen to? I think Cambridge Central Mosque is a good place to start. They have a well-maintained YouTube channel. I like many of their folk. There’s my namesake, of course, Tim Winter aka Abdul Hakim Murad. I also like Jubril Alao and Sulayman Van Ael there. I have nothing against the others; I just haven’t explored their contributions much.

There are no coincidences. The One is firmly in charge. In 2007, we made the intention to do the Hajj pilgrimage in Mecca. Only, we didn’t set off at our scheduled departure time, because we discovered that we had been hoodwinked by a fraudster who had run off with our passports and all of our money. It turned out that we had no visas, no flights and no accommodation.

When you purify your intentions, everything you desire will be brought together for you in the right order. I have seen that myself in moments of sincerity. I have seen it materialise in ways that have truly blown my mind. Indeed, my mind continues to be blown as the years pass by, as even more of the picture unfolds. Make your intentions for the One and the One will grant all that your heart desires.

Why do sincere believers infantilise themselves, handing their affairs over to be managed by other believers, deemed more spiritual or wise than them? Why make another man or woman the master of your destiny? Is man not told not to claim himself special and pure?

The one in pain makes a lot of assumptions about the one they think has it all. “What would you know? You’ve never been tested by such trials!”

Every phase of life brings its tests and trials. Once we were kids, trying to find our place in the world. Now we’re parents dealing with kids trying to find their own place. In our youth, we faced the tests of seeking companionship and finding a soulmate with whom to share our lives.

How much easier it would be taking up this path at this juncture of life, than in our youth when we still believed we needed the approval or support of our families.