SPEAKER_00 0:00

Good evening, little lambs. Tonight's story is called The Lantern Table and the Reddy Wrap, inspired by the Gospel of Matthew twenty two fourteen. Tonight, Jesus teaches us something glad and important. God the Father is throwing a joyful feast for His Son, and He wants every child there. He keeps inviting even when some are too busy. Hearing the invitation is not the finish. A real yes means we come with a ready, kind heart. And so tonight we're back on Shepherd's Hill the evening after the honeycakes, where the lanterns are lit and the invitation will not stop coming. Dusk smelled of warm grass and river mint. The sky went apricot, then plum. By the stream Jesus had spread a long cloth and hung little lanterns in the willow. They glowed like patient stars. At the path's end lay a neat pile of soft wraps, cream as new wool, smelling faintly of cedar. Clover's blue scarf was neat. Her clover sprig stood thoughtful and green. Biscuits golden tuft bounced, little bramble hopped from hoof to hoof. Matt stood a step nearer than yesterday, dark fleeced and quiet, still tasting the surprise of being asked. Jesus looked at each of them as if that lamb were the only lamb in the meadow. Everything is ready, he said, and his voice was a glad door opening. Go tell the others. Come to the lantern table. There is a place and there is a wrap. I want the cloth full. They ran. Cedar was on the far slope, broad shouldered, bark colored, stacking stones. He tilted his head sideways, counting. Jesus says come, Clover called. The lanterns are lit. Cedar said another stone. Clack. In a bit, the wall will not stack itself. Tell him I heard. Down by the gate, Fig had opened a little pebble stall, a row of shiny river stones, a leaf for a sign. He did not look up. Come to the table, Biskit panted. Fig flicked a pebble into a straighter line. I'm minding the shop. It's only supper. I'll come if I finish. The messenger's ears drooped. Clover's sprig tipped. They found Jesus still by the lanterns, not frowning, not finished, inviting. They made it small, Clover whispered, as if a wall and a stall were bigger than you. I know, Jesus said gently. My father does not give up. The joy is ready. Go to the path, invite everyone you find. So they did. Wattle was near the gate, dusty ears lifting. Me? she breathed. You, said Matt, and his voice was stronger for having been asked yesterday. He wants you. They found a dusty traveller lamb on the ridge and two cousins from the lower meadow, good lambs and messy lambs, shy lambs and bouncy ones. The cloth began to fill. Someone hummed, the wraps waited, soft as a blessing. Cedar came at last, still dusty from the wall. He stepped toward a seat as if this were only another chore. Jesus met him at the cloth's edge. Friend, he said, close and kind, how did you come to sit down without your wrap? Cedar went still. He had no answer. The wall was still in his head. He had arrived with his body and left his yes on the hillside. Jesus did not scold. He lifted a cream wrap and held it open. This is not a fashion, he said. It is a ready heart. Anyone may hear the call. True guests put on kindness and come all the way in. I want you here as mine. Cedar bowed his dusty head. Jesus settled the wrap over his shoulders. It was warm, it smelled like home. Fig came too, leaving the stall in the dark. He put on a wrap with both hooves, careful and true. I treated it like a small thing, he said. And still I wanted you, Jesus said. The invitation kept coming. Old Wooly's voice felt like sitting next to a fire. A feast is for guests, he said. A guest comes ready. They ate, the lantern swayed. Clover's sprig stood bright. Matt's wrap made him look as if he had always belonged. Cedar touched the cloth at his shoulder and, for the first time all day, was not building anything. My father's kingdom is like this, Jesus said, a glad feast for his son. Many are invited. The chosen ones are the ones who answer with a real yes, hooves and heart together. And so tonight we learn that God's invitation is a feast, not a chore, and it will not stop coming. We must not shrug it off as a small thing. We come, we put on a ready, kind heart, and we sit down as his. What is one real yes you could give Jesus tonight? Let's close our eyes now, safe on the green hill, held by the shepherd who lights the lanterns and saves us a rap. Jesus, thank you for inviting me to your glad feast. Help me say a real yes and come with a ready, kind heart. Amen. Good night, little lamb. God loves you so much. Sweet dreams.