When I was little, I was painfully shy.
Not from a distance.
I loved watching people.
But up close, I never quite knew how to begin.
My father never tried to shame that out of me.
Instead, whenever we went to a park or playground, he would sit beside me on a bench.
For a while, we would simply watch.
Children laughing.
Running.
Climbing.
After a few quiet minutes, I would always ask,
“What are you looking for?”
He would smile without taking his eyes off the playground.
“I’m wondering if there’s anyone here who might need a friend like you.”
Then we would both begin looking.
It was never very long before we found someone.
There was almost always a child standing just outside the circle of laughter.
Someone sitting alone.
Someone watching instead of playing.
My father would gently nudge me.
“Why don’t you go ask if they’d like someone to play?”
I don’t remember every child I met.
But I have never forgotten what my father was teaching me.
At the time, I thought he was teaching me how to make friends.
Looking back, I think he was teaching me something much deeper.
He was teaching me how to notice.
—
Years later, while reading Deuteronomy, another quiet detail stopped me.
When Moses recalls Israel’s first battle after leaving Egypt, he writes,
“Remember what Amalek did to you on the way… how he attacked your rear ranks, all who were faint and weary, when you were exhausted.”
— Deuteronomy 25:17–18
That sentence stopped me.
Amalek did not begin with Israel’s strongest warriors.
He looked for the weary.
The discouraged.
The unnoticed.
The ones who had quietly fallen behind.
Then, after the battle, God says something remarkable:
“The LORD will have war with Amalek from generation to generation.”
— Exodus 17:16
The battle belongs to Him.
Throughout Scripture, the names of God’s enemies change, but their pattern remains.
Again and again, the enemy scatters, isolates, accuses, and devours.
Just as consistently,
the Shepherd gathers,
restores,
strengthens,
and keeps.
—
As I kept reading, another pattern emerged.
Rather than teaching believers to search for Amalek, the New Testament repeatedly teaches them to search for one another.
“Encourage the fainthearted.”
“Help the weak.”
“Bear one another’s burdens.”
“Strengthen the weak hands and the feeble knees.”
“Do not grow weary in doing good.”
Again
and again.
One another.
One another.
One another.
These are the ordinary ways the Shepherd cares for His people.
—
Weariness does not make us love God less.
But weariness can make it harder to remember that He has never stopped loving us.
Discouragement narrows our vision.
The camp ahead begins to disappear into the dust.
The Greek word often translated encourage is parakaleō—to come alongside, to strengthen, to comfort, to call another onward. It belongs to the same family of words Jesus uses for the Holy Spirit, the Paraklētos, our Helper and Comforter.
Biblical encouragement is more than saying something kind.
It is joining the Shepherd in reminding someone they are not walking alone.
—
Peter compares our adversary to a roaring lion seeking someone to devour.
Every shepherd in Peter’s day knew how lions hunted.
They watched.
They waited.
They looked for the one drifting behind.
The young.
The weak.
The injured.
The isolated.
Amalek looked for God’s weary people in the wilderness the same way.
The predator isolates.
The Shepherd gathers.
The predator scatters.
The Shepherd restores.
The predator looks for those who have fallen behind.
The Shepherd does too.
Not because they are easy prey.
Because they are precious to Him.
—
No wonder Jesus spent so much of His ministry walking toward those everyone else overlooked.
The leper.
The widow.
The blind beggar.
The woman who quietly reached for the edge of His garment.
Peter after his denial.
Thomas in his doubt.
The two disciples slowly walking away from Jerusalem.
Again
and again,
He moved toward the ones everyone else had walked beyond.
The Shepherd never walks so far ahead
that He loses sight
of those at the back.
Neither should His people.
—
Then I noticed something beautiful.
The story that begins with Amalek ends with a promise.
“The LORD will go before you, and the God of Israel will be your rear guard.”
— Isaiah 52:12
The very place where Israel had once been most vulnerable became the place God Himself promised to guard.
He goes before His people.
He watches behind them.
He surrounds them completely.
How like our Shepherd.
—
If lions hunt those who drift from the flock, then one of the holiest acts of love is simply this:
Walk to the back of the camp.
Not to see who is slowing everyone else down.
But to notice who has begun believing they no longer matter.
Love has a habit of looking behind.
Because that is what the Shepherd does.
And if He is our Shepherd…
shouldn’t His flock learn to do the same?
—
When I was a little girl, I thought my father was teaching me how to make friends.
Looking back, I think he was teaching me to see the world through the eyes of the Shepherd.
To look for the one standing just outside the circle of laughter.
The one everyone else had unknowingly walked beyond.
The one quietly falling behind.
I still hear his voice
every time
I walk into a room.
“I wonder if there’s anyone here who might need a friend like you.”
I have come to believe
our Shepherd
has been asking
that same question
all along.
—
© Gilda Wray. All rights reserved.
What a great friend we have in Jesus! I wonder how many little girls and little boys found themselves as you did. I know I did. As far as that goes, how many still do? In my older years and as a widow I have truly learned the word "alone" with humans. What I have also learned is that I have never been alone in Christ. He has been my best friend and companion in all circumstances. As I look back, even as a child, He was always there and would place that one person in my life to walk with me for a bit. He is the Father of all fathers that protects and guides us in the ways we should go and brings us into relationship. I love the scripture from Hebrews chapter 13:5 "Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you". Thank you for the reflection and encouragement.
I love this Gilda, and God bless your father for fostering this in you.