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Good evening, little lambs. Tonight's story is called The Night Cedar Wasn't There, inspired by the Gospel of John 20 24 29. Some of the friends of Jesus once believed something wonderful had happened, but their friend Thomas wasn't there to see it, so he wasn't sure it was true. And here is the beautiful thing tonight's story teaches us. Jesus never got upset with Thomas for wanting to know for himself. He came back especially for him, and let him meet it with his own heart. And so tonight we're back on Shepherd's Hill, where careful, thoughtful Cedar is about to learn that Jesus never leaves anyone behind, not even the one who missed the moment. The evening the sky turned the color of ripe peaches, the lambs finished their supper of cool clover and settled around the fire on Shepherd's Hill. All of them, that is, except Cedar. Cedar had been down at the far boundary since midday, carefully restacking the stones that had tumbled loose in last week's rain. It was his least favorite kind of work, but the kind he trusted most, because when Cedar set a stone, he checked it twice, and it stayed set. He liked things he could see and touch and be sure of. While he worked, something wonderful happened up at the fire. Jesus sat down among Clover, Biscuit, Old Wooly, and Matt, and one by one he spoke each lamb's name. He rested his warm hands gently over Biscuit's heart and said, Biscuit, my peace is yours. You don't have to earn it. He did the same for Clover, for Matt, for Tiny Wren, asleep in Old Wooly's fleece. Each lamb felt something settle deep inside them, warm and sure, like the last light of the sun staying even after the sun itself was gone. By the time Cedar came trudging up the hill, dusty and tired, the fire had burned low, and everyone was still glowing. Cedar, you should have been here, Biscuit burst out. Jesus came and he said our names, and he gave each of us his peace, and it felt it felt like being held. Cedar sat down slowly and turned a small stone over in his hooves, the way he did when he was thinking hard. I believe that you believe it happened, he said. But I wasn't here. I didn't feel it myself. I don't want to just take your word for it. I want to know it's true for me too. Clover's little sprig tilted, worried. That's not doubting God, Cedar. That's just you. Old Woolly didn't say much. He simply settled close beside Cedar by the coals, the way he always did when someone was carrying something heavy, and let the quiet be enough for a while. Then softly, there's no shame in wanting to meet him yourself, little one. Only wait and see. The next evening Cedar was back at the boundary fence, half sure he'd missed his chance again. But as the light turned gold he heard slow, unhurried footsteps behind him. Cedar Jesus sat right down among the loose stones as if it were the most natural place in the world to be. I didn't forget you. Cedar's breath caught. You came all the way out here? For me? I go wherever the one who's missin' me is, Jesus said. He rested his warm hand over Cedar's chest, right where the wondering had been sitting all day. Peace be with you, Cedar. And there it was, the very same warmth the others had described, steady and real, filling him from the inside out. Cedar's eyes filled. It's you, he whispered. It's really you, here, for me, my shepherd. Jesus smiled the way he always did, as if Cedar were the only lamb on the whole hill. You believe now because you felt it for yourself tonight. But Cedar, someday there will be little ones who never feel my hand quite like this, who only hear about me from someone else's story by the fire. Blessed will they be everyone when they trust me anyway. Back at the fire that night, Cedar told the others everything, stone by careful stone, the way he told every story, slowly and completely true. And so tonight we learn that Jesus never scolds us for having honest questions, or for wanting to understand something for ourselves before we believe it. He goes looking for the ones who missed the moment, and he gives them their very own. And even you, little lamb tucked in bed tonight, who has never seen Jesus with your own eyes. When you trust that he loves you, you are one of the blessed ones he was already thinking of. What is something you wonder about or wish you could ask Jesus yourself? You can always ask him. He loves your questions. Dear Jesus, thank you for never leaving me out. Even when I have questions, help me trust that you are near. Give me your peace tonight, the same peace you gave Cedar by the fence. Amen. Good night, little lamb. God loves you so much, sweet dreams.