By Yusuff Aminat Oyindamola

I wanted to make plans for the year—not in a “New Year, New Me” fashion, but simply out of a desire to give structure to the things I do and the things I want to do. But at some point while making them, I thought: why bother to do these things when there is already a record with Allah that states exactly what I am going to achieve this year? Why do I need to try so hard when whatever has been written will eventually overtake me?

That thought led me to reflect on destiny.

Destiny is prewritten. There is a hadith—the saying of the Prophet ﷺ—that states that whatever a person will become is written while they are still in the womb. It concludes with the words: “The pens have been lifted, and the ink has dried.” Taken literally, this suggests that there exists a record in which the plot of our lives has already been written, and all that remains is for us to play our roles.

But where, then, does this leave the concept of choice?

We, humans, pride ourselves on free will—the intelligence that allows us to be more than mere products of our environment. If destiny has already been written, does that mean our efforts are meaningless? Can we simply sit back and drift with the tide? Or do we have the ability to rise above it, to deviate from what has been decreed?

In my view, the matter is far more complex than it first appears. There is another tradition which states that every person has a place in both Jannah (Paradise) and Jahannam (Hellfire), and that where one ultimately ends up depends on one’s choices. If everything were fixed beyond alteration, why would there be two destinations prepared for each person?

Still, we must acknowledge the limits of our understanding. We cannot fully grasp the depth of our Lord’s wisdom with our infinitesimal knowledge.

What I believe is this: destiny is indeed predetermined, but not in a rigid or suffocating way. It is more like walking into a store to buy clothes. Whatever I pick feels like my own choice—and in a sense, it is. Yet I am only choosing from options that were already placed there. The seller selected the range; I merely chose from within it.

In the same way, each person is given a set of possibilities, each with its own consequences. If I choose A instead of E, that choice leads to B, and how I handle B may lead me somewhere between E and J. The record, then, is not a single straight line, but an entire network of potential paths. To imagine destiny as only one rigid outcome would be to limit the power of the Lord with our own narrow understanding.

There is, however, another kind of destiny—one that sets the stage for everything else. These are things we have no control over: where we are born, to whom we are born, and the conditions into which we enter the world. These factors largely define the boundaries of what we can become, and I believe they are predestined by Allah, the Lord of the Worlds, according to His perfect wisdom. Though they may sometimes appear unfair, they are often the very environments best suited to push each individual toward their true purpose.

I am still uncertain, of course. But when we look at history, we see countless lives transformed by a single decision—moments where everything suddenly took a different turn. These instances suggest that much in life genuinely depends on our choices, even if those choices lead toward outcomes already known by Allah.

Perhaps destiny is not a rigid sequence of events. Perhaps it is a chain of choices, each leading to the next, all unfolding within the bounds of divine will and sustained by His encompassing knowledge.

And maybe, instead of wondering whether whatever goals I set for the year will tally with Allah’s plans for me, I should pray—for Allah’s guidance in planning, for His help in accomplishing them, and for His Rahmah in making them a means of success in the Hereafter. Maybe the planning itself is part of my destiny, and I am simply walking a path Allah, in His boundless wisdom, already laid down for me.

And Allah knows best.