SPEAKER_00 0:00

Good evening, little lambs. Tonight's story is called The Shortcut That Wasn't There, inspired by the Gospel of Matthew 10 1623. Tonight's reading teaches us something so gentle, it's almost like a lullaby. When we wander off and make a mess of things, God doesn't wait to be angry with us. The moment we turn back toward him, he meets us with healing, with love that's never run dry, and he helps us grow again, the way dew helps a garden bloom overnight. And so tonight we're back on Shepherd's Hill, where Clover is about to learn that lesson with her own two hooves. The evening had turned soft and blue, the kind of hour when the crickets start warming up their songs, and the grass begins to grow damp and silver with dew. Clover and Biscuit were chasing the last firefly of the evening along the hedge, biscuit bounding ahead with her golden tuft, bobbing always first, always fastest. Wait for me, Clover called, but the little green clover sprig behind her ear had already started to droop just a bit, the way it did whenever she felt like she was falling behind. She had an idea. Old Wooly always led them home along the winding path past the fire circle. But Clover was sure she'd spotted a quicker way, straight through the tall grass by the wall. I don't need the long way, she thought. I can find my own way home. So while Biskit dashed on after the firefly, Clover slipped off through the grass, following a shortcut that existed only in her own head. The tall grass grew taller, the light grew dimmer, and the shortcut, the one she'd been so sure of, simply wasn't there anymore. Clover turned in a circle and then another, and nothing looked right. Dew soaked cold into her wool, her clover sprig hung all the way down. I didn't listen, she whispered to no one. I thought I knew better than the path. Now I've ruined everything, and everyone will be upset with me. She tucked herself small against the old stone wall, too ashamed to even call for help, and waited for the scolding she was sure was coming. It wasn't a scolding that found her, it was Jesus walking easily through the wet grass, like he already knew exactly where she'd be, humming the same little tune old Wooly hummed by the fire. There you are, he said, and knelt down so they were eye to eye, and there was nothing but gladness in his face, no anger in it at all. I'm sorry, Clover said in a small voice. I didn't trust the path. I trusted my own shortcut instead, and it wasn't even real. I know, Jesus said gently, wrapping his arms around her. And I'm not upset with you, Clover. I've simply been looking for you, and I'm glad, so glad, you're found. He brushed the dew from her wool. Look how the dew has settled on every blade of grass tonight. Not just the tall ones or the brave ones. It comes to all of it, quietly while everyone sleeps, and by morning everything is fresh again. That's how my love comes to you every single time you turn back to me. It doesn't get smaller because you wandered. It's already here, ready to help you grow. As they walked home together, Jesus pointed out a small white lily just opening near the path. You're going to open up just like that, bright and unafraid. He touched the rough bark of the old cedar by the fire circle. And your roots will grow deep and steady like this tree, so even a hard wind won't move you. He smiled. None of that happens because you never wander. It happens because you always come back. By the fire, Biscuit ran to meet her, and old Wooly simply made room by his side, no questions asked. Clover's little clover sprig lifted slowly until it stood up bright and green again, exactly as it always did when she felt loved all the way through. And so tonight we learned that God never waits for us to be perfect before He loves us. When we wander or trust the wrong things, or make a mess of it, the moment we turn back, He meets us with healing, not anger, and He helps us grow all over again, fresh as dew on the morning grass. Is there something you'd like to tell God tonight, trusting that turning back to Him will only ever be met with love? Dear God, when I wander off or make a mistake, help me remember to turn back to you. Thank you for never being angry with me, only loving me freely and helping me grow. Amen. Good night, little lamb. God loves you so much. Sweet dreams.