Every story worth telling begins with a shattering opening. Attar recounts the transformation of the ninth-century Sufi Shaqiq al-Balkhi through a particularly striking anecdote.

Shaqiq al-Balkhi was once engaged in commerce. According to the story, while traveling on a distant trading journey he encountered a pagan fervently worshipping an idol. Repelled by the sight, Shaqiq urged him to abandon the useless object and turn instead to God, the All-Knowing and the All-Powerful. The pagan, however, proved less simple-minded than Shaqiq had assumed and replied: "If your God is truly almighty, is He not powerful enough to grant you the livelihood you seek here in your own town?” Struck by these words, Shaqiq renounced his trade, returned to his homeland, and devoted the rest of his life to the worship of God.

This attitude, for which Shaqiq is best known, is called tawakkul. The term literally means "to place one’s trust.” While it is regarded as a praiseworthy virtue in Islam, Sufis who carried it to extremes were often criticized for misconstruing and misapplying the concept.

In its ideal form, the Sufi position is sound: To trustfully submit to God is to know that He creates, sustains and guides human beings as He does the birds that set out each morning with no guarantee of food or shelter, yet return home.

Tawakkul is a hard pill to swallow. In theory, every Muslim affirms the necessity of placing one’s trust in God. For the Sufis, however, belief and practice are inseparable. They live in accordance with what they profess, and in this respect, their conduct seems internally consistent. In another account, Shaqiq is warned by a Zoroastrian, who tells him: "If you pursue a livelihood that is not destined for you, you will never attain it, even until the Day of Judgment. But if you seek what has been allotted to you, you need not run after it; it will come to you on its own.”

Where does this path lead us? Must one renounce all labor and simply await what God will bestow? Yes and no.

Seen from another angle, it is only a matter of time. As we live in the present and anticipate the future, we cannot help but work toward what our hearts desire. But when we look back on the same experience, we encounter a different concept, kismet, which proves far easier for people to accept.

Kismet is the last stop on the path of tawakkul. To trust in God and to embrace whatever follows. In retrospect, one realizes that the road one traveled had been leading, all along, to one’s kismet.

One runs after a goal and learns that it was never meant for them; another stops, only to see what is meant arrive with ease. Both are true and each of us knows this in one way or another. In the end, it is only kismet that is attainable.

It grants one peace of mind, after all. The real difficulty lies in accepting the future while still living in the present. For this reason, Sufis such as Shaqiq insisted on placing one’s trust in God’s hands: to worry about what lies beyond human power is only a loss of time and tranquility. They remain as certain of the outcome of their trust now as of its eventual fulfillment. Is it not God’s promise that He will care for us? As the Quran declares, "Your Lord has not forsaken you, nor does He hate you. And the future will be better for you than the past” (Surah Ad-Duhaa: 3-4). Though first revealed to console the prophet in a moment of distress, these words speak to every human being who struggles with the burdens of the present. It is a divine assurance that help is near, even if yet unseen.

If we return to the story of Shaqiq’s abandonment of his trade, one perceives an undeniable insight: He neither lamented his poverty nor expressed anxiety over his provision. Instead, he became a voice calling others to place their absolute trust in God, who does not fail His servant. Once again, this remains a difficult notion to embrace, yet in time one recognizes that what has taken place is precisely one’s kismet.

The Sufis were, in a sense, calling out from the future, trying to sow trust in people’s hearts so that those hearts might learn to rest in God.