Compassion For the Overlooked
There’s a verse in the Psalms that carries considerable weight for me. It’s in Psalm 68.
It speaks of God being,
“A father of the fatherless,
and a defender of the widows,
is God in His holy habitation.
God settles the lonely in families.”
Many people know what it feels like to live on the edges of society. I experienced this when I walked away from a high control religion. However, reasons for exclusion vary—disability, being a stranger in a new place, having a mind that works differently, simply being misunderstood or failure to analyse our flaws. These experiences can create isolation, confusion, and a sense of being unseen. Scripture acknowledges this reality and goes even further, promising that God gathers the alien and the lonely into a true family, giving fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers to those who once stood alone.
One of the clearest biblical portraits of compassion toward the marginalized appears in the story of Mephibosheth. As a small child, he suffered a devastating injury when his caregiver fled in panic after hearing of Saul and Jonathan’s death. The fall left him permanently disabled and he grew up far from the centre of power, carrying both physical limitations and the fear that the new king might view him as a threat (2 Samuel 4:4).
Years later, in 2 Samuel 9, King David asks whether anyone remains from Saul’s household to whom he might show compassionate loyalty. Ziba, Saul’s former servant, answers with a brief and almost dismissive phrase: Jonathan’s son is still alive— “but he is lame.” No name, no honour, just a fact that marked Mephibosheth as someone of little importance.
When Mephibosheth is brought before David, he bows low and calls himself a “dead dog,” revealing how deeply his sense of worth had been eroded. But David’s response overturns everything he fears. The king speaks gently, assures him of safety, restores his family’s land, and seats him permanently at the royal table—treated as one of David’s own sons. In a moment, the forgotten outsider becomes a cherished guest.
David’s mercy offers more than a story of personal kindness. It foreshadows the heart of Jesus Himself. Just as Mephibosheth was carried into David’s presence unable to make himself worthy, we are carried by grace into the presence of Christ. David gives a place at his table; Jesus goes further and gives us a place in His family. David restores land; Jesus restores identity, dignity, and hope. David’s compassion becomes a faint echo of the greater King who welcomes all who come to Him with their wounds, fears, and losses.
Jesus’ invitation still stands: “Come to me.” He does not wait for strength or perfection—He receives those who feel broken, overlooked, or unworthy. Have you ever placed your own pain in His hands? He is ready for it.
Because we belong to this compassionate King, we are called to reflect His heart. Marginalization can take many shapes—ignoring someone’s presence, mocking what makes them different, or treating them as a problem rather than a person. But followers of Jesus are invited to move in the opposite direction: to notice, to honour, to restore, and to create spaces of belonging. The table of God is wide enough for all, and He invites us to carry that welcome into the world.
May we learn to see others the way David saw Mephibosheth—and even more, the way Jesus sees us all.
Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, and today, and to the ages Hebrews 13: 8 (BSB).