What does it mean to bless God? How can the finite bless the infinite? What could possibly be given to the One who lacks nothing? And when we sing the words Bless God, what are we actually articulating?
The phrase 'bless God' (or bless the Lord) is woven throughout Scripture, echoing in the psalms and prayers of the faithful. But in our contemporary worship culture, where words sometimes flow faster than reflection, have we considered what we’re truly singing?
Blessing as response, not addition
“We worship not to add to God’s glory, but to awaken ourselves to it.” – A.W. Tozer
In the biblical imagination, blessing typically moves in one direction: from the greater to the lesser. God blesses Abraham with descendants, Israel with provision, humanity with breath and being. To bless someone is to confer favour, to bestow goodness, to impart something of worth.
But when the psalmist cries, Bless the Lord, O my soul (Psalm 103:1), the equation is reversed.
What can a created being give to the Creator? Theologically speaking, we don’t add anything to God. To bless God is not to enhance God’s state or increase God’s well-being. Rather, it is to acknowledge, magnify, and respond to the goodness already given.
In Hebrew, barak (translated as bless) carries connotations of kneeling, of offering oneself in humility and gratitude. To bless God is not to improve God’s condition—it is to align ourselves with reality. It is to let our praise catch up to what is already true.
Worship as the Overflow of Recognition
“Worship is the strategy by which we interrupt our preoccupation with ourselves and attend to the presence of God.” – Eugene Peterson
If blessing God is not about giving something new but responding to what has already been given, then worship becomes an act of overflow. It is the soul coming into alignment, the heart responding in kind.
The danger, of course, is that blessing God can become transactional in our minds. That our songs become subtle bargains—if I bless, I will be blessed. If I give praise, I will receive. But biblical worship is less investment and more eruption. It is not the act of securing divine favour but the natural response of a heart that has already received it.
This is why the psalmist speaks to his own soul: Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits (Psalm 103:2). Not because God needs our praise, but because we need to remember.
Blessing as witness
“So to bless God means to recognise his great richness, strength, and gracious bounty and to express our gratitude and delight in seeing and experiencing it.” – John Piper
Another way to think about blessing God is in the sense of speaking well of God. In the New Testament, eulogeo (often translated as bless) literally means to speak a good word.
To bless God, then, is to declare God’s worthiness—not just in song, but in speech, in life, in posture. It is to live in such a way that the goodness of God is made visible.
And this is not just a human practice—it is the song of all creation. The mountains, the rivers, the very stones themselves bear witness to God's glory. The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands (Psalm 19:1). When we bless God, we are stepping into a cosmic symphony, joining the trees that clap their hands (Isaiah 55:12), the seas that roar their praise (Psalm 98:7), and the rocks that are ready to cry out if we do not (Luke 19:40). To bless God is to be caught up in the song creation has been singing since the dawn of time.
The Transformative Power of Blessing God
Blessing God is ultimately an act of reorientation. It trains the heart away from scarcity and toward abundance, from self-sufficiency to dependence, from entitlement to gratitude.
When we sing Bless God we are being shaped. In the act of lifting our voices, our hearts are softened, our perspectives shifted. Worship realigns us, anchoring us in the truth that God is both the source and sustainer of all that is good. To bless God is to allow gratitude to reshape us—to (re)train our hearts to desire what is true, to trust in what is unseen, and to rest in the abundance of divine love.
An Invitation to Overflow
“We do not worship creation, but in worship, we join creation’s song.” – C.S. Lewis
The next time you sing a song with the words Bless God or Bless the Lord, pause for a moment. Let the phrase sink in. Not as a duty, but as an eruption. Not as an attempt to give God something lacking, but as an act of remembering what is already true.
Perhaps this is why worship songs like Bless God by Brooke Ligertwood, Brandon Lake, and Cody Carnes resonate so deeply. They call us into the flow of praise that is bigger than ourselves—a praise that creation itself echoes, a song that does not start or stop with us.
To bless God is to step into this grand, eternal melody. To stand with the psalmist, the prophets, the great cloud of witnesses, and the trees, the rivers, and the very stones, and say: Yes. You are worthy. And I remember.
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