وَمَا لِيَ لَا أَعْبُدُ الَّذِي فَطَرَنِي وَإِلَيْهِ تُرْجَعُونَ
Why should I not worship the One who brought me into being, when to Him you will all be returned?
وَمَا لِيَ لَا أَعْبُدُ الَّذِي فَطَرَنِي وَإِلَيْهِ تُرْجَعُونَ
Why should I not worship the One who brought me into being, when to Him you will all be returned?
The believing man begins his argument for worshipping God with himself: “Why should I not worship the One who brought me into being?” Rather than condemning his people's belief directly, he places himself within the question, although his reasoning applies to everyone.
The phrase alladhi fatarani, “the One who brought me into being”, points to a fundamental truth: we have received our existence and everything we possess from our Creator. Worship can therefore be a conscious response to this relationship.
The depth of this man's faith lies in worshipping God not merely in hope of Paradise or fear of Hell, but because God Himself is worthy of worship. This does not remove hope for His mercy or concern about accountability. It grounds devotion in a deeper recognition of the Lord's greatness rather than personal gain or loss alone.
There is a delicate change in the wording. First, the man speaks of his own creation. At the end, however, he addresses his people: “To Him you will be returned.” He thus moves their attention from the beginning of human existence to its ultimate destination. The God who brought us into being is also the One to whom we return, and that return involves answering for our actions.