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Good evening, little lambs. Tonight's story is called Bramble in the Middle, inspired by the Gospel of Matthew eighteen one five ten. Tonight's story is about who God thinks is great, and it is not who the lambs expect. Jesus takes the smallest, most overlooked lamb on the hillside and says This one right here is exactly what greatness looks like. And so we're back on Shepherd's Hill, where the evening fire is already crackling, and an argument is already underway about who deserves to sit closest to it. The sky over Shepherd's Hill had turned the color of a ripe peach, and the grass had gone cool and silver with the first hint of dew. Down at the creek crossing, Bramble stood on the near bank, looking at the five flat stones that led to the other side the way she looked at them every single evening, too far apart, every one of them, for legs as short as hers. She was the smallest lamb on the whole hillside, smaller even than lambs half her age, and the creek knew it. Cedar hopped across in three easy bounds without even slowing down. Jonah crossed without looking at his hooves at all, the way you'd cross a room in your own house. Bramble stood there until old Woolly came up beside her as he did every evening, and lowered his broad grey shoulder so she could climb on. I wish I could just jump it, Bramble said quietly, her chin tucked into his wool. Like everybody else. I know, said Old Wooly, and carried her across without another word, because some things don't need explaining twice. By the time they reached the fire circle at the top of the hill, the argument was already loud. In the very center of the circle sat the first stone, flat, warm from the day sun, the best seat in the whole fold, and every evening it went to whoever had done the biggest, bravest, most impressive thing that day. Tonight, Cedar said it should be his because he'd carried the heaviest bale of hay up from the lower field all by himself. Jonah said no, it should be his, because he'd found three lambs lost pebble pouches and returned every one to its rightful owner before supper. That's not impressive, that's just fair, said Cedar. Fairness is hard, said Jonah. Carrying hay is just heavy. They were still going back and forth when Jesus came and sat down among them. He listened for a while, the firelight moving across his face, and then he did something nobody expected. He stood, walked straight past Cedar and past Jonah, past all the lambs who had been arguing their case, and crouched down in front of Bramble, who was still a little damp from the creek, sitting at the very edge of the circle where she always sat. He held out his hand. She looked at it, then at him, then put her small hoof in his palm, and he led her to the first stone and set her right down in the middle of it. Nobody said anything for a moment. Then Jonah who always wanted things to be fair, said what everyone was thinking. But Bramble didn't do anything big today. She needed help at the creek again. How does that make her the greatest? Jesus didn't answer Jonah right away. Instead he turned to Bramble and asked What happened at the creek tonight? Bramble thought about it. I couldn't cross by myself, she said slowly. So I climbed on old Wooly, and I trusted him completely to get me to the other side. I didn't look down once. That, said Jesus, is the biggest thing anyone did today. Jonah frowned. But she didn't do it. Old Wooly did. She let him, said Jesus. She stopped trying to be big enough on her own and leaned with her whole weight on someone who could actually carry her. That is exactly the size I am asking all of you to become, not small and sad, small and trusting, the way Bramble trusted old Wooly's shoulder, holding nothing back. He looked around the circle at Cedar and Jonah and all the rest. Whoever makes himself this small, trusting instead of trying to prove himself, is the greatest in my father's kingdom, and whoever welcomes a little one like Bramble, just as she is, welcomes me. Bramble, sitting on the warm stone in the middle of everyone, felt her face go hot, but not the bad kind of hot. Jonah looked at her for a long moment, then came and sat down right beside the stone. Not on it, just close. I still think fairness matters, he said, but maybe this is what fair looks like tonight. Jesus smiled and looked up at the first stars coming out over the hill. Do you know? he said to Bramble, that you have your own angel, one who has watched you every single evening at those creek stones, and who has never once looked away from my father's face while doing it. You are never too small to be seen completely by him or by me. The fire popped and settled. Bramble stayed right where she was, in the middle of the circle, and for the first time being the smallest lamb on the hillside didn't feel like something to get past. It felt like exactly where she belonged. And that is what Jesus wants every one of us to know. You don't have to be the biggest, the strongest, or the bravest to matter to God. The small and trusting ones, the ones who lean on someone bigger instead of trying to do it all alone. Those are the ones Jesus calls the greatest. And every single one of us, even the smallest, has our very own angel watching over us right now, who never stops looking at God's own face. Dear Jesus, thank you for loving the small and the overlooked ones best of all. Help me to trust the people who care for me, the way Bramble trusted old Wooly's shoulder. Thank you for my very own angel who watches over me all night long and never stops looking at your father's face. Keep me safe until morning. Amen. Good night, little lamb. God loves you so much. Sweet dreams.