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Good evening, little lambs. Tonight's story is called The Haystick by the Shed, inspired by the Gospel of Luke four thirty one thirty seven. Tonight Jesus teaches us that his word is strong and kind. He does not need extra tricks. When something frightening is hurting a lamb, Jesus speaks, and that lamb is kept safe. In the Gospel of Luke chapter four, verses thirty one through thirty seven, that is what he shows. And so tonight we're on Shepherd's Hill, where the hay shed stands in the last light, and a long wooden stick leans by the door. The hay smelt sweet and dusty. Evening sun made a gold stripe on the shed floor. A long, smooth stick leaned against the door frame. Every night the lambs used it to pull a flake of hay down from the high stack, so even a small lamb could make a soft bed. Biscuit's golden tuft bounced. She grabbed the stick with both hooves. I'll get the hay. Clover's blue scarf was neat. The green sprig behind her left ear stood up. Old Wooly's silver grey fleece shone as he sat in the grass. Little Wren stood close to his side. She was tiny with curly ears. She was old Wooly's granddaughter. She wanted to help. I can push a flake toward the door, Wren said. She stepped into the shed. Her hooves whispered on the dry hay. The evening wind swung the door. The gold stripe on the floor went thin. The back of the shed turned dim. Wren's small cry came out of the dark. It feels mean in here, she called. I cannot see the door. She did not come out. She pressed against the haystack. Her cry got louder. Biskit lifted the long stick. She poked it into the dim. Go away, go away. Dark. The stick scraped the wall. Haydust puffed. Wren cried harder. Clover's sprig tipped. Biskit, stop. You might hit her. The stick scraped again. Wren still did not come. Jesus came up the path. He looked at each of them as if that lamb were the only lamb in the meadow. He did not take the stick. Put the stick down, he said. Biskit's tuft drooped. She set the stick back against the door frame. It was only a haystick again. Jesus stood in the doorway. His voice was not loud. It was the plainest voice on the whole hill. Wren, he said, Come out, you are safe. The shed went quiet. Wren walked out into the gold stripe. Hay stuck to her curly ears. Dust sat on her nose. She was not hurt, not even a scratch. Clover let out a breath. Old Wooly's voice felt like sitting next to a fire. She is all right. Biskit stared at the stick she had not needed. But I didn't poke the dark away. You only talked. Then Jesus said the plainest thing of the whole night. My word is enough, he said. You do not need a stick to make a lamb safe. When I speak, the frightening thing must stop, and I keep you from harm. Wren leaned on his knee. It felt so big in there. I know, Jesus said. I am bigger. I am the holy one God sent. My word is strong, and I use that strength to keep you safe. Biscuit took the stick the right way now. She hooked a flake of hay from the high stack. It fell with a soft thump. Wren pushed it into the grass with her small hooves, not scared. They spread beds that smelled like summer. The first star came out over the shed, and so tonight we learned that Jesus' word is enough. He does not need extra tricks. He speaks, and what frightens us must stop, and he keeps us from harm. When you were scared tonight, you can remember his short word. You are safe. Who could you sit close to so nobody has to feel alone in the dark? Let's close our eyes now, safe on the green hill, held by the shepherd whose word is enough. Jesus, your word is enough. When I am scared, speak to me, keep me safe, and help me rest. Amen. Good night, little lamb. God loves you so much. Sweet dreams.