How Are You, GOD?

Good morning, GOD,

How are You? I wonder how You are feeling about Your world and Your children. I realized this morning that I often come to You asking for things—blessings, help, answers, protection—but I rarely pause to ask how You are doing. I assume that because You are GOD, You need nothing from me. But isn’t that a little selfish?

If I was created in Your image, and I feel the pressures of life… if my heart aches, if the weight of the world pulls on me, if some days my light flickers low—maybe Yours does too.

We are both parents. I know what it feels like when my children hurt or struggle, or when I watch them behave in ways that don’t align with who they truly are. It grieves me. I want to fix it. I want to rescue them. Yet there are moments when they won’t let me, or when I know I have to let them walk their own path until they’re ready to ask for help. In those moments, I feel powerless.

Can You—my great GOD—ever feel powerless? You are all-powerful, and yet… You are also a parent. A parent of many children, each so different, each requiring a love crafted uniquely for them. That must be difficult. How do You love those who constantly misbehave? Those who seem wicked at their core?

And yet I hear the answer rising within me: the same way I love mine. No matter what my children do or who they become, I would still love them. I would still show up. So do You.

God, I am so sorry that we have made such a mess of the beautiful world You gave us. I imagine what it must feel like to build a home for your family—carefully, lovingly—and then watch them destroy it. I know I would feel hurt. Unappreciated. Heartbroken. Do You feel that way too?

God, I know at times it seems like I don’t trust You. You offer perfect wisdom, and You see all things. Sometimes I get wrapped up in my own limited ability. Your Word says I can do all things through Christ—Your Son and my brother—and yet I still doubt myself.

Help me remember that my strength doesn’t come from my own capacity, but from Yours. Maybe part of me feels embarrassed that such an anointed Deity would live inside such a common vessel. Like a pauper sitting among kings. But You said Your grace is sufficient for me. I didn’t earn it; You gave it freely.

God, I want You to know how grateful I am for You. I don’t take it for granted that my fingers can type these words, that breath fills my lungs, or that my mind can weave these thoughts together.

Thank You for my life. For my children. I don’t just have shelter—I have a warm, comfortable, beautiful home. Thank You for sight. Thank You for my grandchildren—each uniquely gifted, full of love, joy, respect, and reverence for You. Thank You for my friends, my family.

Thank You for flowers and trees, for seasons changing, for grass and leaves. Thank You that I can hear birds sing and feel the wind brush my cheek. Thank You for oceans, blue skies, rain, the moon, and the stars. You are such an extraordinary architect. You designed everything with intention and wonder—colors, sounds, textures, rhythms. You could have made the world black and white, dull and muted, but instead You poured imagination and glory into everything.

Forgive me for taking these gifts for granted. Forgive us all. Sometimes life distracts us so much—our worries, our schedules, our responsibilities, even our religious duties—that we forget the sacredness of simply existing in Your creation. We rush through our days: making calls, going to work, cooking meals, getting kids to school, buying the dress, cleaning the house, closing the deal, securing the bag… even writing the sermon and preaching the Word.

But God… how often do we slow down, breathe, and check on You?

This morning, that is what I am doing.

How are You doing, FATHER?