If you’re asking “Just what is God like?”, few books of the Bible answer more directly and generously than the Psalms.
Yesterday I was reading through Psalm 103 (one of my favorites) and found myself stopping on verses 13-16:
As a father has compassion on his children,
so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him;
for he knows how we are formed,
he remembers that we are dust.
The life of mortals is like grass,
they flourish like a flower of the field;
the wind blows over it and it is gone,
and its place remembers it no more.
I stopped reading. A lump had taken up residence in my throat. Yes. This is me. Dust. Temporary. Fragile. It’s what I am, and moreover, it was how I’ve been feeling lately.
And God knows.