THE CHARACTER OF GOD | Jeanne Mayo
One of the most breathtaking promises in all of Scripture is tucked quietly into the book of Isaiah: “I will give them a heart to know Me, that I am the Lord.” What a stunning thought. The God of the universe—who spoke galaxies into existence and holds the oceans in the hollow of His hand—leans toward ordinary people like you and me and whispers, “I want you to know Me.” Not simply know about Me. Not merely admire My works. But truly, deeply, intimately know Me.
And when God plants that desire inside you, something begins to shift. You start discovering that His character is so vast, so rich, so multi‑layered, that you could spend a lifetime exploring it and still barely scratch the surface. He is Jehovah Jireh, the God who provides. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. When sorrow presses in, He becomes your Comforter. When confusion clouds your path, He becomes your Direction. When you feel unseen, He becomes the God who notices. When you feel unworthy, He becomes the God who calls you beloved.
But here’s the part that has marked my life more than anything else: the leaders who make the greatest impact—those who weather storms without losing their spiritual footing—are the ones who refuse to get caught up only in God’s acts and instead devote themselves to learning His ways. His character. His heart. His nature.
Because life, as you already know, is not a smooth, freshly paved highway. It’s a winding road with unexpected detours, potholes, and seasons that make absolutely no sense to our human minds. There are days when the hurt feels too heavy to carry. Nights when fear and doubt creep in like unwelcome guests. Moments when you silently wonder, “God, where are You in all of this?”
And it’s in those moments—those raw, unfiltered, deeply human moments—that knowing God’s character becomes your lifeline. When everything around you shakes, something inside you rises up with a quiet, stubborn confidence: “I know who my God is. I know His heart. I know His faithfulness.” And that knowledge becomes the anchor that keeps you from drifting.
Honestly, if we were to pause long enough to ask ourselves, “What is the greatest need in my life? In my church? In my ministry?”—I’m convinced the answer would be the same across the board. Our greatest need is simply this: to truly know God.
Not just preach about Him. Not just serve Him. Not just work for Him. But to know Him.
Years ago, in one of the more spiritually hungry seasons of my life, I stumbled into something that became one of the most transformative practices I’ve ever adopted. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t complicated. It didn’t require a seminary degree or a theological library. In fact, it was almost embarrassingly simple.
I started keeping what I called a Character of God notebook.
Now, before you imagine something polished and Pinterest‑worthy, let me assure you—it wasn’t. It was just a plain notebook I kept tucked beside my Bible. But it became a treasure chest for my soul.
During my devotional times, I would take one attribute of God—just one—and write it at the top of a page. Then I’d begin studying every Scripture I could find that reflected that attribute. Sometimes I’d spend a month on one characteristic. Other times a week. Occasionally just a day. I let the Holy Spirit set the pace.
And I didn’t start with the attributes that sounded the most spiritual. I started with the ones I desperately needed. The ones where I felt the weakest. The ones where my own story had left gaps.
For me, that meant beginning with the Fatherhood of God.
I didn’t grow up with a godly father. So the idea of God as a loving, trustworthy Father wasn’t just foreign—it felt almost impossible to grasp. I knew the verses. I could quote the Scriptures. But my heart didn’t know how to believe them.
So, I pulled out a simple concordance and looked up every verse that mentioned the word father. I reread stories I’d heard since childhood, but this time through a different lens. I camped out in the story of the prodigal son—not to study the rebellious son, but to study the father. His posture. His words. His actions. His heart.
And slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, something began to heal inside me. I started to see God not as a distant authority figure waiting for me to mess up, but as a Father who runs toward me even when I’ve made a mess of things. A Father who forgives quickly. A Father who celebrates my return. A Father who never stops loving, pursuing, or welcoming me home.
That one study changed me. It reshaped the way I prayed. It softened the way I led. It rewired the way I saw myself. And it made me hungry to know more of who God is.
As my Character of God notebook grew, I added another layer to the process. I began paying attention to the people around me—men and women in the body of Christ who seemed to embody certain attributes of God in a way that inspired me. Quietly, without telling them, I’d jot down their names next to specific characteristics.
I’d write things like, “I know God’s mercy better because I’ve watched how you forgive.” Or, “Your joy has shown me something about the joy of the Lord.” Or, “Your patience has helped me understand God’s patience with me.”
It became a double blessing. Not only did it help me see God more clearly, but it also challenged me to reflect His character more intentionally in my own relationships. I wanted people to know God better because of the way I lived, the way I loved, the way I served.
And that’s the beauty of this whole journey. The more you study who God is, the more you begin to mirror Him. The more you understand His heart, the more your heart begins to look like His. The more you immerse yourself in His character, the more naturally you carry His character into the lives of others.
You may decide to create your own Character of God notebook. Or maybe you’ll simply begin reading Scripture with fresh eyes, looking for glimpses of who God is rather than just what He does. Either way, my prayer is that you’ll begin a lifelong pursuit of knowing Him—not casually, not academically, but intimately.
Because life will bring both paved roads and rocky climbs. Seasons of clarity and seasons of confusion. Moments of joy and moments of heartbreak. But if you anchor your life not in God’s acts—which change from moment to moment—but in His character—which never changes—you will stand firm.
You will trust Him even when you cannot trace Him. You will follow Him even when the path feels uncertain. You will rest in Him even when the storm rages. And you will discover, over and over again, that the God you are learning to know is far more faithful, far more loving, and far more present than you ever imagined.
May you become a man or woman who doesn’t just witness God’s acts but truly knows His ways. Because that, more than anything else, will shape the kind of leader—and the kind of follower of Jesus—you become.
And when God plants that desire inside you, something begins to shift. You start discovering that His character is so vast, so rich, so multi‑layered, that you could spend a lifetime exploring it and still barely scratch the surface. He is Jehovah Jireh, the God who provides. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. When sorrow presses in, He becomes your Comforter. When confusion clouds your path, He becomes your Direction. When you feel unseen, He becomes the God who notices. When you feel unworthy, He becomes the God who calls you beloved.
But here’s the part that has marked my life more than anything else: the leaders who make the greatest impact—those who weather storms without losing their spiritual footing—are the ones who refuse to get caught up only in God’s acts and instead devote themselves to learning His ways. His character. His heart. His nature.
Because life, as you already know, is not a smooth, freshly paved highway. It’s a winding road with unexpected detours, potholes, and seasons that make absolutely no sense to our human minds. There are days when the hurt feels too heavy to carry. Nights when fear and doubt creep in like unwelcome guests. Moments when you silently wonder, “God, where are You in all of this?”
And it’s in those moments—those raw, unfiltered, deeply human moments—that knowing God’s character becomes your lifeline. When everything around you shakes, something inside you rises up with a quiet, stubborn confidence: “I know who my God is. I know His heart. I know His faithfulness.” And that knowledge becomes the anchor that keeps you from drifting.
Honestly, if we were to pause long enough to ask ourselves, “What is the greatest need in my life? In my church? In my ministry?”—I’m convinced the answer would be the same across the board. Our greatest need is simply this: to truly know God.
Not just preach about Him. Not just serve Him. Not just work for Him. But to know Him.
Years ago, in one of the more spiritually hungry seasons of my life, I stumbled into something that became one of the most transformative practices I’ve ever adopted. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t complicated. It didn’t require a seminary degree or a theological library. In fact, it was almost embarrassingly simple.
I started keeping what I called a Character of God notebook.
Now, before you imagine something polished and Pinterest‑worthy, let me assure you—it wasn’t. It was just a plain notebook I kept tucked beside my Bible. But it became a treasure chest for my soul.
During my devotional times, I would take one attribute of God—just one—and write it at the top of a page. Then I’d begin studying every Scripture I could find that reflected that attribute. Sometimes I’d spend a month on one characteristic. Other times a week. Occasionally just a day. I let the Holy Spirit set the pace.
And I didn’t start with the attributes that sounded the most spiritual. I started with the ones I desperately needed. The ones where I felt the weakest. The ones where my own story had left gaps.
For me, that meant beginning with the Fatherhood of God.
I didn’t grow up with a godly father. So the idea of God as a loving, trustworthy Father wasn’t just foreign—it felt almost impossible to grasp. I knew the verses. I could quote the Scriptures. But my heart didn’t know how to believe them.
So, I pulled out a simple concordance and looked up every verse that mentioned the word father. I reread stories I’d heard since childhood, but this time through a different lens. I camped out in the story of the prodigal son—not to study the rebellious son, but to study the father. His posture. His words. His actions. His heart.
And slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, something began to heal inside me. I started to see God not as a distant authority figure waiting for me to mess up, but as a Father who runs toward me even when I’ve made a mess of things. A Father who forgives quickly. A Father who celebrates my return. A Father who never stops loving, pursuing, or welcoming me home.
That one study changed me. It reshaped the way I prayed. It softened the way I led. It rewired the way I saw myself. And it made me hungry to know more of who God is.
As my Character of God notebook grew, I added another layer to the process. I began paying attention to the people around me—men and women in the body of Christ who seemed to embody certain attributes of God in a way that inspired me. Quietly, without telling them, I’d jot down their names next to specific characteristics.
I’d write things like, “I know God’s mercy better because I’ve watched how you forgive.” Or, “Your joy has shown me something about the joy of the Lord.” Or, “Your patience has helped me understand God’s patience with me.”
It became a double blessing. Not only did it help me see God more clearly, but it also challenged me to reflect His character more intentionally in my own relationships. I wanted people to know God better because of the way I lived, the way I loved, the way I served.
And that’s the beauty of this whole journey. The more you study who God is, the more you begin to mirror Him. The more you understand His heart, the more your heart begins to look like His. The more you immerse yourself in His character, the more naturally you carry His character into the lives of others.
You may decide to create your own Character of God notebook. Or maybe you’ll simply begin reading Scripture with fresh eyes, looking for glimpses of who God is rather than just what He does. Either way, my prayer is that you’ll begin a lifelong pursuit of knowing Him—not casually, not academically, but intimately.
Because life will bring both paved roads and rocky climbs. Seasons of clarity and seasons of confusion. Moments of joy and moments of heartbreak. But if you anchor your life not in God’s acts—which change from moment to moment—but in His character—which never changes—you will stand firm.
You will trust Him even when you cannot trace Him. You will follow Him even when the path feels uncertain. You will rest in Him even when the storm rages. And you will discover, over and over again, that the God you are learning to know is far more faithful, far more loving, and far more present than you ever imagined.
May you become a man or woman who doesn’t just witness God’s acts but truly knows His ways. Because that, more than anything else, will shape the kind of leader—and the kind of follower of Jesus—you become.