Whose Face Is That?

Every person bears the image of God, which means every person belongs to God , and nothing can ever take that mark away.

Tonight's story is inspired by Mark 12:13-17, the Gospel reading for June 2, 2026.

About Baa Baa Bible: Bible-inspired bedtime stories for children ages 3-10. In every story, Jesus is the gentle Good Shepherd, teaching us the lessons of today's Bible reading. All the other characters are lambs and sheep, a warm reminder that we are all part of his flock. 

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Good evening, little lambs. Tonight's story is called Whose Face Is That? Inspired by the Gospel of Mark, chapter twelve, verses thirteen through seventeen. Tonight's gospel holds a wonderful secret. Jesus is asked a clever, tricky question, meant to catch him out. But instead of being caught, he picks up a coin, asks one quiet question, and shows everyone something remarkable. Just as a coin is stamped with the face of whoever made it, every one of us is stamped with the face of God. We were made by God, so we belong to God, and that is the best kind of belonging there is. Tonight on Shepherd's Hill, Clover and her friends are about to discover exactly this. The day had started with a question. Cedar, still fairly new to the hill, his bark colored wool broad and practical, arrived in the meadow holding something, a round, smooth pebble, exactly the size of a coin. I found this by the stream, he said, tilting his head sideways the way he always did when he was thinking. Does it belong to me now? Or to the stream? Or to nobody? The flock gathered around, Clover with her blue scarf, biscuit with her gold tuft sticking up, Pip with her enormous dark eyes, and little Bramble pressing in at the front. No one quite had an answer. Clover was still turning it over in her mind when she heard quiet footsteps behind them. Jesus was walking across the meadow, unhurried as always, as if these lambs, this morning, this very question, were exactly where he had hoped to be. May I see, he said. Cedar placed the pebble in his palm. Jesus looked at it. Then he reached into his tunic and brought out a small, real coin, warm from being carried a long while. Whose face is on this? he said, holding it up. There was a face pressed into the metal, small, and unmistakably there. Someone made it, said Clover. Yes, said Jesus. The face tells you where it came from, and where it belongs. He slipped the coin back and looked at each of them in turn, slowly, as if each one were the only lamb in the whole meadow. Now, he said quietly, whose face do you bear? Pip's enormous eyes went very still. And who made your face? A silence settled over the meadow, the soft, warm kind that comes just before something important lands. God did, said Bramble. Very small, very certain. Yes, said Jesus, and his voice was so gentle it felt like a hand resting on each of their heads. You were made by God. His mark is on you, not stamped in metal, but woven all the way through, from the inside out, and that means you belong to him. Clover felt something bloom quietly in her chest. Her clover sprig seemed to lift a little. All the way inside? said Pip softly. Not just on the outside, like a coin? All the way through, said Jesus. The way you wonder, the way you love, the way you reach toward what is good. That is his mark. You cannot lose it. Cedar had gone very quiet. He set the pebble down and looked at his hoof. Even if you've made a mistake, he said. Even then, said Jesus, always. Something in Cedar's broad, practical face went very soft. Old Wooly appeared at the meadow's edge, as he often did at the moments that mattered. He settled quietly into the grass, his silver fleece warm in the morning light, and just listened. Jesus sat down among them. At the end of the day, he said, When the night feels big, you can give your day back to God. Just hold it out and say, Here, I am yours. You made me, I belong to you. Pip leaned her head against Clover's shoulder. Bramble tucked herself against old Woolly's warm side. Cedar placed the smooth pebble back in the grass, gently, as if it had somewhere it properly belonged. So every morning, said Biscuit, I am already God's. Already God's, said Jesus, from before the first breath, already his. The meadow was warm and still. Somewhere nearby a bee moved through the time. Tonight we discovered something wonderful. Just as a coin bears the face of whoever made it, we bear the mark of the God who made us, woven all the way through, in the way we love and wonder and reach toward what is good. We are not lost or unclaimed. We belong to God. Now close your eyes and let the one whose image you carry hold you gently through the night. Dear God, you made me. Your mark is on me all the way through, all the way to the inside. At the end of this day, I give it back to you. Here I am, I am yours. Amen. Good night, little lamb. God loves you so much. Sweet dreams.