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Good evening, little lambs. Tonight's story is called The Little Jug and the Big Joy, inspired by the Gospel of Matthew nine fourteen seventeen. And here is what tonight's story teaches us. When Jesus brings something new and joyful, he doesn't want to squeeze a little of it into our same old ways of doing things. He wants to give us hearts that are open and roomy, ready to stretch wide enough to hold all the joy he has for us. And so tonight we're back on Shepherd's Hill, where Clover is about to learn that some joys are simply too big for a little old jug. The morning had smelled like berries since sunrise. Down along the low hedges the blackberries had turned from green to deep, glossy purple almost overnight, and old Wooly declared it the best harvest anyone on the hill could remember. Tonight, he announced, silver wool catching the morning light. We feast, music, dancing, the whole flock together by the fire, and Jesus is coming to share it with us. Biscuit was already bouncin in a circle, her golden tuft flopping with every hop. A real feast, with dancing. Clover felt the happiness too. Her clover sprig stood up bright and green, but underneath the excitement, a small, careful thought tugged at her. She trotted to her keeping shelf and pulled out her favorite jug, small, chipped at the rim, the one she used every evening for her cider before bed. It was hers. It was familiar, and she liked things the way they'd always been. I'll use my own jug for the berry juice, she told Biskit. It's always worked before. Together they pressed the ripe berries, and out came the juice, thick, deep purple, so alive with the harvest that tiny bubbles kept rising and popping at the top, almost like it was singing. It was far more juice than anyone expected. Clover poured and poured anyway, determined to fit it all into her small jug. It overflowed onto her hooves. Then, right as she lifted it to carry to the fire, a thin crack she'd never noticed split wide open, and the jug came apart in her hooves, sticky purple juice running down the hillside. No, I ruined the feast, Clover whispered, her sprig drooping low. Jesus was already there, kneeling beside the sticky mess, and he didn't look upset at all. Oh Clover, your little jug did exactly what it was made for. Quiet, ordinary nights. It did that well for a long time. But this juice is something new, so full and alive, it needed a bigger jug, one with room to stretch. It isn't your fault it couldn't hold it. It just wasn't made for a night this big. But I like my jug, Clover said softly. I like things how they've always been. That's all right to love, said Jesus, resting a warm hand on her back. But when I bring something new, new joy, new love, pressing to fill up a heart, it needs room to grow too. If a heart holds itself too tight and small, trying to keep everything exactly as it was, it can crack trying to hold something wonderful. I don't want to just patch my new joy onto your old ways, little one. I want to give you a heart wide enough to hold all of it. Old Wooly shuffled up, carrying something from the storehouse, a big clay jug, wide-mouthed, never once used, kept just for feast nights like this one. Wren, still tiny, dozed in the warm crook of his foreleg as he set it down. Fresh joy, he said, deserves a fresh jug. Clover and biscuit poured the singing purple juice into it together, and this time it settled in perfectly, bubbling gently, held safe all the way to the brim. That night the whole flock danced around the fire until the stars came out, and Jesus laughed and danced right along with them, the way a good friend does at the very best kind of party. Clover, cup and hoof, found she wasn't thinking about her old jug anymore, only about how good it felt for her heart to be this wide open. And so tonight we learn that Jesus doesn't want to squeeze his new joy into our same old boxes. He wants to grow our hearts bigger, softer, and more open, so there's room for all the wonderful new things he wants to give us. Is there a new joy tonight that might be asking your heart to stretch and grow just a little? Jesus loves bringing us new joy, and he wants our hearts ready and open to receive it, not held tight and small, but wide and stretchy, like Clover's new feast jug. When something wonderful comes along, we don't need to squeeze it into old ways of doing things. We can let our hearts grow to hold it. Dear Jesus, thank you for all the new joy you bring. Help my heart stay soft and open, ready to hold everything good you have for me. Amen. Good night, little lamb. God loves you so much. Sweet dreams.