One cannot act without preference, and there is no nobility in preference. For God to be all-knowing and all-loving, he would also have to be silent and unmoved. Were he to require nourishment, his body would have started to decay the moment he created the universe. A panic attack may be the closest we ever get to touching God.
And there is an important takeaway here, which is that it is our own unawareness—and disregard—of the costs of action that is the reason we persist. One cannot care equally for everything; to move at all is to act unequally.
To be alive and aspire to Godliness is to both misunderstand the consequences of God's role and misidentify the nature of our being. It is precisely God's lack of preference, even for his own life, that saves him from the burden of omnipotence. But we are not gods. We are animals. If God is our creator and our destroyer, we are his process. We wander directionally and in the middle, while he lies in stasis at our extremities. We exist precisely where God is absent. We cannot bear the weight of his knowledge or his love.