“God’s kingdom is like ten young virgins who took oil lamps and went out to greet the bridegroom. Five were silly and five were smart. The silly virgins took lamps, but no extra oil. The smart virgins took jars of oil to feed their lamps. The bridegroom didn’t show up when they expected him, and they all fell asleep.
In the middle of the night someone yelled out, ‘He’s here! The bridegroom is here! Go out and greet him!’
The ten virgins got up and got their lamps ready. The silly virgins said to the smart ones, ‘Our lamps are going out; lend us some of your oil.’
They answered, ‘There might not be enough to go around; go buy your own.’
They did, but while they were out buying oil, the bridegroom arrived. When everyone who was there to greet him had gone into the wedding feast, the door was locked.
Much later, the other virgins, the silly ones, showed up and knocked on the door, saying, ‘Master, we’re here. Let us in.’
He answered, ‘Do I know you? I don’t think I know you.
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Come, Lord Jesus, come. What a bold, well-worn prayer—one that begs for God to do exactly what He has always done: come. A prayer that, particularly around this time of year, gets muttered and sung half-heartedly as a means to an end instead of the active anticipation it warrants. Perhaps Eugene Peterson says it best in describing it as a gospel verb, an act engrained in the character of God. The Christian message is not just that God is, but that he comes.
The past several months have been spiritually dry for me. I have found myself waiting, much like the “silly virgins” in the passage above. Unprepared, half-hearted, looking to others for tasks I should take responsibility for myself. But as the spiritual season shifts into a publicly recognized time of waiting through Advent, I feel convicted to actively wait—to see anticipation for what it is: a spiritual space to occupy and experience even apart from the longed-for event. A lamp that needs extra oil to provide an adequate light.
I have become more hesitant to share my thoughts the older I’ve gotten, maybe because I feel a growing responsibility for the words I put on paper. Maybe because I’m more hesitant, in general, or less sure of more. Regardless, I have been reminded recently how many others feel that same way—how countless amounts of believers and followers struggle with doubts, questions, and an expansive understanding of our inability to know and understand the most important thoughts and concepts. I hope that me sharing my own journey provides some comfort and encouragement to others who are also searching and waiting.
If you are one of those people, I’m here to remind you there is more community out there than you think. There’s no better time to find it than the season that celebrates the anticipation of God. The anticipation of a bride for her bridegroom. The anticipation for the one that comes. But we must prepare our own hearts to receive his arrival. We must make way for a Way Maker.
Over the next four weeks, I’m going to be looking at the four candles (and themes) of the Advent season. My hope is that we all will bring extra oil for our lamps so that we produce adequate light to see more of the one who comes.