If there is one, of course, the main question one could sensibly ask, is whether It is a continuous being or a discrete one. Afterwards, one could ask about its intentions, but only given that the answer to the first question came as an acceptance of the continuous notion.
Meaning It is still around, that is. But, by the use of our far-from-perfect logic, one could also ask, "isn't It absurd?" And God itself, using its far-from-flawed logic, must also ask questions—still given that we accept the continuous notion.
But, what if we dared to accept the discrete notion of God? It once was, but now It is not anymore. It set up the initial conditions, only to leave the rest upon chance's hands. (Chance is God's best friend). Then life could be meaningless whatsoever.
It is a matter of scales, but it can always, no matter which one is chosen, be broken down into a meaningless conclusion:
Our life, sub specie aeternitatis, is one. God's life, sub specie aeternitatis, is one also. Day by day, dream by dream, mistake by mistake, chance by chance, and will by will, we can always ask. But the true answer is brief:
Like the sun, that does not last for ever, though it does for us, God, in the broadest, continuous sense, must also have its unachievable idea of eternity.