In a world increasingly shaped by data, algorithms, and empirical validation, the believer is often asked to reconcile faith with “modern science.” Yet the Qur’an does not ask us to reconcile—it invites us to see. Not merely with eyes, but with hearts that recognize design, purpose, and divine wisdom.
“Then do they not look at the camel—how it was created?”
— Surah Al-Ghāshiyah (88:17)
This single verse, revealed in the heart of the Arabian desert over 1,400 years ago, contains a challenge that echoes through time. It is not a poetic flourish. It is a scientific invitation wrapped in spiritual urgency. And when we respond—not as skeptics, but as seekers—we find that the camel is not just an animal. It is a living testament to Allah’s creative mastery, engineered with features so precise, so integrated, and so improbable by chance, that they defy materialist explanation.
But this reflection must begin with a deeper truth: the Qur’an itself is not a product of history—it transcends it. It is not an “ancient text” to be archived alongside relics of dead civilizations. It is the eternal speech of the Living God, preserved without alteration, variation, or decay. And it is from this unchanging foundation that all true knowledge—scientific or spiritual—must flow.
To call the Qur’an “ancient” is to misunderstand its nature entirely. Ancient things erode. They fragment. They require reconstruction. But the Qur’an?
“Indeed, it is We who sent down the Reminder (adh-Dhikr), and indeed, We will be its guardian.”
— Surah Al-Ḥijr (15:9)
This is not a hope. It is a divine guarantee—and one that has been fulfilled with astonishing precision.
From the moment of revelation, the Qur’an was memorized by thousands, recited in daily prayers, and written under the direct supervision of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ. Within two decades of his passing, Caliph Uthman ibn Affan standardized a single codex (muṣḥaf) and distributed copies across the Muslim world—from Damascus to Kufa, from Egypt to Central Asia. Any variant readings were eliminated not by human whim, but by consensus of the Companions who had heard the Qur’an directly from the Messenger of Allah.
Today, whether you open a Qur’an in Jakarta, Johannesburg, Istanbul, or Iowa, the text is identical—word for word, letter for letter, diacritic for diacritic. No other scripture in human history can claim such perfect textual unity across continents, centuries, and cultures.
Compare this to the Bible, which exists in dozens of canonical forms (Catholic, Protestant, Orthodox), with disputed books, lost gospels, and scholarly debates over original wording. Or the Vedas, transmitted orally for millennia before being committed to writing, subject to regional variations.
The Qur’an stands alone: unchanged, unedited, uncorrupted.
This is not a matter of faith alone—it is a historical fact. And it confirms what every believing heart already knows: this is not the word of man. It is the Word of the One who holds time in His hand.
Thus, the Qur’an is not “from the past.” It speaks to the present, for the future, and about the eternal. It is as relevant to a geneticist in Karachi studying oval red blood cells as it was to a Bedouin in 7th-century Arabia guiding his camel through the Empty Quarter.
Let us clarify terms.
“Say: ‘Travel through the land and observe how He began creation…’” (29:20)
“Do they not reflect upon the camels, how they are created?” (88:17)
The early Muslims built observatories, hospitals, and universities because they believed studying creation was an act of worship.
This is where the believer must exercise discernment.
Modern science is useful—it gives us antibiotics, satellites, and renewable energy. But it is not infallible. It cannot answer: Why is there something rather than nothing? What is the purpose of life? Is there justice beyond the grave?
More critically, modern science often mistakes its method for truth itself. When it declares, “There is no design—only random mutation and selection,” it oversteps its bounds. It confuses mechanism with meaning.
The Qur’an does not need modern science to validate it. Rather, when science is practiced with humility and openness, it becomes a mirror reflecting Qur’anic truths.
Consider the camel.
Allah did not choose the camel randomly. In the desert—the ultimate test of survival—He placed a creature so perfectly adapted that it turns impossibility into routine.
Let us examine what “how it was created” (kayfa khuliqat) truly means:
This is not a minor tweak. It is a fundamental redesign of a core biological system—one that appears nowhere else in nature.
No other large mammal combines all these traits. Together, they form a coherent survival architecture.
Again, this is purposeful placement, not accident.
Every feature serves a function. Nothing is wasted.
Allah embedded a future medical breakthrough in the camel’s immune system—centuries before microscopes existed.
The Qur’an does not list these features. It doesn’t need to. Instead, it issues a challenge to intellect and conscience:
“Will they not look at the camel—how it was created?”
This is not about cataloging parts. It is about recognizing intentionality.
Thus, the camel is both a biological wonder and a social mercy. Its design reflects both power and compassion—attributes of the Creator.
As Ibn al-Qayyim wrote in Al-Ṭibb al-Nabawī:
“Allah created the camel as a ship of the desert, a provision for the poor, and a sign for the reflective.”
For the believer, discovering the camel’s oval RBCs or nanobodies does not lead to pride in human knowledge. It leads to prostration.
“SubḥānAllāh! Glory be to Him above what they describe!” (6:100)
Because every scientific discovery, when seen rightly, becomes an act of dhikr (remembrance).
This is the essence of Islamic science: not to dominate nature, but to witness the signs (āyāt) within it and return to the Creator in awe.
Modern science, stripped of this dimension, becomes cold and instrumental. But science guided by tawḥīd (divine unity) becomes a path to nearness to Allah.
The Qur’an is not ancient.
The camel’s design is not accidental.
Science, when humble, is not opposed to faith.
All three converge in one reality: Allah is the Creator, the Preserver, and the Guide.
He preserved His Word without a single letter altered.
He designed the camel with features no human could invent.
And He calls us—not to blind belief, but to seeing with understanding.
So let us look at the camel.
Let us read the Qur’an.
And let our hearts respond—not with doubt, but with praise:
“To Allah belongs all praise—Lord of the heavens, Lord of the earth, Lord of all worlds. To Him belongs majesty in the heavens and the earth, and He is the Almighty, the All-Wise.”
— Surah Al-Jāthiyah (45:36–37)
And may we never stop reflecting.