My daughter is learning to navigate the choppy waters of freshman life at a public high school. When I picked her up on Tuesday after school, she overflowed with thankfulness. ​“I’m glad you’re my dad.” 

She’s a grateful kid, but I sensed something had sparked this sudden outpouring of dad-gratitude. 

She went on to say:

“A bunch of girls at school today were saying they didn’t have dads, as if it were funny or something to brag about. But it’s not. It’s a hard thing. My heart hurt for them. I know they were just covering up how they felt by joking about it.”

Scripture speaks often of caring for the ​“fatherless.” In an ancient context, ​“fatherless” or ​“orphan” no doubt meant something quite different from what these high school girls are experiencing. But what remains constant is God’s heart for the vulnerable — for those who lack ​“provision, protection, and belonging,” as Randy Schrock puts it.

Schrock is a school-based counselor. He makes it a priority to bless the kids he works with — to intentionally ​“project good” toward them, especially to the ones who have a rough home life.

His new essay convicts me to slow down, to keep my eyes open for the outsider — the ​“alien,” to use biblical language. This person may be an actual refugee, or simply someone who for one reason or another finds themselves homeless of heart. 

Ministry begins with learning to see the outsider or the lonely, and slowing down long enough to truly listen to them — and, like Randy with the kids at school, faithfully see and listen day after day. When we do, our words of blessing, which otherwise might be just a passing gesture, carry the authority of Christ’s love.