The Ones Who Never End

God is not the God of the dead but of the living , the ones He loves are never past tense, because God holds them alive to Himself always.

Tonight's story is inspired by Mark 12:18-27, the Gospel reading for June 3, 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 The Ones Who Never End, inspired by the Gospel of Mark twelve eighteen to twenty seven. Tonight's gospel holds something very gentle at its center, the kind of truth that is small enough to hold in your paw, but big enough to change everything. Jesus wants us to know that the ones we love, the ones who have walked on ahead of us, are not lost. They are alive to God, because God is not the God of the dead, he is the God of the living. And tonight, on Shepherd's Hill, Cedar is about to find this out. The meadow had been very quiet all day. Cedar sat at the far edge of the grass, his bark colored wool broad and still, looking out toward the hills the way you look at something that is gone. Clover noticed first, she wrapped her blue scarf a little tighter and walked over. Are you all right? she said. Cedar was quiet for a moment. There was a lamb I knew before I came here. His name was Moss. He isn't here anymore. He looked at his hooves. I didn't think I'd miss him this much. Clover sat down without saying anything. That was sometimes the right thing. Old Wooly settled on Cedar's other side, still and close, his silver fleece warm in the afternoon light, like a fire you could lean toward. Pip crept over, her enormous dark eyes soft. Bramble patted in last and tucked herself against Old Wooly's side. Does God know where Moss is? Cedar said. Or does someone just stop like a fire going out? Then they heard footsteps crossing the meadow, unhurried, as if whoever it was had been heading here all along. Jesus sat down in the grass in front of Cedar and looked at him the way he looked at each of them, as if Cedar were the only lamb in the whole wide world. Tell me about moss, he said. Cedar blinked. He had gray wool. He used to run along the top of the ridge at sunset and look like he was part of the sky. Jesus nodded. I want to tell you something old and true. He looked out toward the hills. Long ago God spoke to a man from inside a burning bush, a bush that was on fire, but didn't burn up, and God said, I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob. Old Wooly made a low, deep sound, as if the words had touched something inside him. Those three had walked on long before that day, said Jesus, and yet God said, I am, not I was, I am. His voice was warm and steady, because to God, the ones he loves are never past tense. Cedar lifted his head. His eyes were bright and wet. They are alive to him, said Jesus. Life with God is different, bigger, fuller, like the difference between a drawing of the sun and standing in the actual light. Moss is not nowhere. Moss is with the one who holds everything, and God calls his name today just as surely as he called Abraham's. From inside old Wooly's fleece, Bramble said very quietly, Does God say their names? Even now? Even now, said Jesus, and his voice was so certain and gentle that Bramble closed her eyes, satisfied. Pip looked up. But can we still love them? Does the love just end? Does light end when the candle is carried into the next room? said Jesus. Pip thought. Then she shook her head. It goes somewhere you can't see yet, said Jesus. That's all. Cedar let out a long, slow breath, the kind that has been held for a very long while. Clover rested her small hoof quietly against his side. The sun slipped behind the hills now, painting everything amber and rose. Far above, the first star appeared, small and steady and very bright. Old Woolly looked up at it, but his voice came out like a story that had been waiting for the right moment. I used to wonder what it meant that God said I am instead of I was. Now I think I know. It means no one he loves is ever finished. That is exactly right, Woolly, said Jesus. Cedar looked up at the star for a long time. I'm going to think of that as moss, he said. Running along the ridge, part of the sky. I think, said Jesus, that is a very beautiful way to think of it. And they stayed there together. Cedar, clover, pip, bramble, old Woolly, warm and unhurried, until the stars had spread all across the sky, and Bramble was fast asleep against Old Wooly's side, her small face perfectly still and peaceful. God is not the God of the dead, but of the living. The ones he loves are never past tense. They are alive to him always, held in his great, warm, endless care. Tonight, when you close your eyes, you can trust that God holds everyone you love, the ones beside you now, and the ones who have gone on ahead in the very same loving hands. Dear Jesus, thank you for telling us the truth tonight. That no one you love is ever really gone. Help me remember that you are not the God of the dead, but of the living. Hold everyone I love in your hands tonight, here with me, and the ones I miss, and hold me too. Amen. Good night, little lamb. God loves you so much. Sweet dreams.