SPEAKER_00 0:00

Good evening, little lambs. Tonight's story is called The Seed Fig Almost Forgot, inspired by the Gospel of Matthew thirteen, eighteen to twenty three. Here's something beautiful the Bible tells us tonight. When Jesus gives us a good and true word, hearing it once is only the very start. A seed doesn't become a plant just by landing somewhere for a moment. It has to be tended, given time to send its roots down deep, even through the ordinary, harder parts of the day. Tonight, we're back on Shepherd's Hill, where a quiet lamb named Fig is about to learn just how that works. The morning came up soft and gold, mist still clinging low to the grass, the whole fold was waking slowly, wool ruffled, eyes blinking, the smell of dew and clover in the air. Fig was up before most of the others, sitting a little apart the way he liked to, watching a beetle make its careful way along a blade of grass. Jesus came and sat beside him in the quiet, before the rest of the fold stirred. Good morning, Fig. I have something for you, just for you this morning. Fig looked up, wondering the way he always did. For me? You are dearly loved, Jesus said, resting a hand on Fig's small dark head. Nothing that happens today, nothing at all, can ever change that. Something warm rushed all through Fig, chest to hooves. He ran and told Biskit right away, bouncing on his small legs. Jesus said I'm dearly loved. Nothing can change it. That's wonderful, Fig, Biskit said, and meant it. But then a rabbit darted through the tall grass, and both lambs went tearing after it, laughing. By the time Fig flopped down in the shade at midday, tired and happy, the words were still there, but softer now, fuzzy at the edges, like something loved in a dream. Then in the afternoon, Fig overheard old Woolly telling Clover how proudly he watched her grow braver every season and a small, unexpected ache opened in Fig's chest. Am I dearly loved or is Clover just more lovable? He didn't like the thought, but it stayed anyway, crowding out the warm morning feeling until Fig could hardly remember it at all. By evening, at the low fire, Fig sat very still and very quiet, even for him. Old Woolly noticed and settled beside him without a word at first, then gently, you've gone somewhere far away today, little one. Fig's voice came out small. Jesus told me something wonderful this morning, that I'm dearly loved, but I let it go, old Woolly. I got busy, then worried, and now it doesn't feel true anymore. Jesus sitting nearby, turned toward them both and smiled the smile he saved for exactly this. Fig, a good word isn't like a stone you hold once and never think about again. It's like a seed. It only grows if it's tended, if you keep coming back to it again and again, especially on the days you get busy or worried or your feelings run off chasing rabbits. He nodded toward a small sunflower by the fence, its face turned to catch the last low light. She doesn't turn to the sun once and forget about it. All day long she keeps turning back, even when clouds roll through. That's how she grows tall enough to bloom. Fig looked at the sunflower a long moment. So I have to keep turning back to it, even when I forget. Especially then, Jesus said warmly. Try now, say it again, slowly, and let it land all the way down this time. Fig closed his eyes. I am dearly loved, he whispered. Nothing that happens can change that. This time he let it sit, unhurried, until it settled deep and steady, past the worry, past the rabbit chase, all the way down. He opened his eyes and found little Bramble curled nearby, whispering that she wasn't sure anyone would notice if she fell asleep first tonight. Fig went and sat close, wool touching wool. Your dearly loved Bramble, he said softly. Nothing that happens today can change that. Jesus told me first, and now I'm telling you. Bramble's small shoulders loosened, and she leaned into him, already half asleep. Jesus watched and said nothing at all, because nothing needed saying, and so tonight we learned that hearing something good and true from Jesus is only the beginning. The real gift grows when we keep turning our hearts back to it again and again until it takes root, deep enough to hold and even deep enough to share. Is there something kind and true Jesus has told you that you could turn back to tonight and let sink all the way down? Let's close our eyes now, hearts turn gently toward him one more time before sleep, safe and rooted in a love that never runs out. Dear Jesus, thank you for the good and true words you give me. Help me turn my heart back to them, even on busy days and worried days, so your love can grow deep roots inside me. Amen. Good night, little lamb, God loves you so much. Sweet dreams.