Friends, welcome to The Book of Common Words, where we explore the Christian spirituality of being human through poetry and prose about my life, art, and the Christian faith. I’m your writer, Aaron. This publication is 100% reader supported. Thanks for joining me in this exploration.
Amos 5.18-24; Psalm 70; 1 Thessalonians 4.13-18; Matthew 25.1-13
Was today the day when Jesus came back? Was today the day I would be raptured, whisked away into heaven to worship God forever? Was today the day I would hear the trumpet of the archangel, see the sky torn asunder, and rise with those who have gone before to meet Jesus in the air and be with him for all eternity?
These daily questions provoked quite a bit of anxiety in my young heart. There were other questions under the questions: did I believe the right doctrine so I would be raptured with the church? Was I sincere enough? Was there hidden sin in my life that was unconfessed, and therefore unforgiven? In short, was I ready for the second coming?
End times anxiety was—still is, if we are honest—a real thing. A feeling provoked by the need to always be in good standing with God so that when Jesus came like a bridegroom in the night, we would be ready for him, not caught unprepared and thus missing out on heaven altogether. One needed to be strong in their faith, remain on constant guard against sin and corruption, read the bible diligently, pray fervently, and share the gospel with others so they wouldn’t miss out and be doomed to the fires of hell.
It’s one thing to hold these beliefs. It’s another to grow up with them as some of your earliest memories.
I grew up with this end-times anxiety. Everyone spoke of looking forward to the day of the Lord, to the second coming of Jesus. They spoke of how glorious it would be, of how excited they were, of how all their hopes would come true… but I had a different experience. I was afraid of that day of the Lord.
Since I was constantly plagued by doubts that I was right with God, that I believed correctly, that I wasn’t falling away into some sin, I was almost always afraid that I would be left behind, that I would (rightfully so) be sent to hell because I wasn’t ready.
We were called to be ready to embrace Christ when he came again. Meanwhile, I feared that I wasn’t good enough and that I would be one of the ones that was told, “I don’t know you.”
Truth is, I still haven’t completely grown out of that mindset. I’ve worked hard to change how I think about God, about Jesus, about the Holy Ghost and my relationship to God, but these old fears are persistent and rooted deep in the soil of my heart. I’m still afraid to see Christ come again, because what if I got it all wrong?
What if my beliefs aren’t correct? What if I’m a heretic? What if I’m not listening to scripture, to the Spirit? What if I’m digging myself a deeper and deeper grave in the pit of hell?
It’s hard living with these fears. I try to keep them in their place, but they creep in at the most inopportune times. They whisper to me at night when I can’t sleep. They taint my readings of scripture. They mess with prayer, spiritual practices, and relationships.
“Be pleased, O God, to deliver me O Lord, make haste to help me!”
So now, I read of the ten bridesmaids, five wise, five foolish. What makes the wise ones wise? They brought backup oil so that even if they had to wait, they were prepared for the coming of the bridegroom.
The interpretation of this parable seems pretty straightforward: be prepared because you don’t know when Jesus is coming again. Everything here seems to only aggravate and affirm my end-time anxiety. If you’re not prepared, if you don’t bring back up oil, you will be denied entrance to the heavenly wedding feast. The groom (Jesus) will even say he doesn’t know you. If you aren’t prepared, your doom in exile to the outer darkness, with weeping and gnashing of teeth.
But, what if this parable isn’t about the end-times? What if this parable is about the here, the now, what’s in front of us? What if it’s even a way to sooth that end-times anxiety?
See, Jesus’ admonition at the end of that parable isn’t to be prepared, it’s to stay awake.
Both the wise bridesmaids and the foolish ones fell asleep waiting for the bridegroom. They didn’t remain alert. When they heard the groom was on his way, they had to hurriedly trim their wicks, and the five that came without extra oil had to then run out into the night to find a merchant who was open in the middle of the night so they could bargain and haggle a good price for lamp oil.
What would have happened if they had stayed awake? If they had remained on the lookout, ready for the groom? Perhaps they would have noticed he was taking longer than they anticipated, so they could have sent someone not in the bridal party to get more oil. Maybe if they had remained awake, the bridesmaids that came prepared would have shared with those that had none, and maybe they all would have been bound together instead of separated by the has and has nots.
Staying awake would have changed the story.
Jesus asks us to stay awake, not to stay prepared. That changes things. Maybe getting into the kingdom of heaven isn’t about having our theology and dogma right. Maybe it’s not about living a sinless life—which presents its own theological quandaries—so that we can stay pure before God. Maybe it’s not even about the actions we take or fail to. Maybe getting into the kingdom is truly about staying alert and awake so we can see the possibilities right in front of us., the possibilities of justice, the possibilities of righteousness, the possibilities of inviting others to take part in the kingdom.
When the chance to see the kingdom presents itself, will we see it? Or will we be asleep, made drowsy by the worries and cares of this world, by numbing our senses with pleasure and entertainment, even by the fervency of getting our religion right? All these things distract us, keep us from seeing what, seeing who is right in front of us.
The bridesmaids who were called wise did come prepared for the long wait. They did bring an extra flask of oil. They were prepared, ready to be ready for when the bridegroom came. But did they do justice to the other bridesmaids? Sure, it was fair. They had what they needed and didn’t know if sparing any would lead to their not having enough… but the end result of their action was the exclusion of the others.
We can say it was their own fault—it was after all; they were foolish—but they were excluded from the wedding feast, from communion with the groom, all because the wise ones didn’t stay awake, didn’t see, didn’t take the opportunity to show mercy, grace, love to those who needed it.
Staying awake is about noticing the world around us. Who do we see that is in need? What do we have to fill that need? What opportunities do we have to invite people to the table of the Lord instead of excluding them, even when that exclusion would be “fair?”
Here’s the thing: God’s not really into our liturgies and celebrations when they don’t take part in justice, helping it flow like an endless river. God straight up hates our religious activities if they don’t contribute to righteousness endlessly pouring down for the world. It’s not about what’s fair, who’s prepared and who’s not. This is about what the kingdom of God is—the place where Jesus rules, reigns, and receives worship for the justice, reconciliation, reparation, mercy, and righteousness he brings—and how we as those who believe in the hope of resurrection in Christ extend the invitation to come into the kingdom to those around us.
The world needs justice and righteousness. War is tearing us apart. Racism, bigotry, sexism, and queerphobia (to name a few) are threatening lives and destroying peace. The hypocrisy of Christians and churches is being exposed more and more each day, along with the trauma they have inflicted on people young and old. Christian nationalism blatantly rears its head in the leadership of our government, making people of other faiths not only uncomfortable but in danger. This (and more) is what is going on in the world around us. This is the world that both needs us and gives us chances to see, reveal, and share the kingdom of heaven with those that need it the most, those that need the body and blood of Christ, the bread of heaven, the cup of salvation.
We are invited not only to be part of announcing the kingdom, but we are invited to participate in building the kingdom, to make space for those (including us) who did not bring an extra flask of oil, are not prepared to stay awake and wait with hope for the resurrection and the coming revelation of our hope in Jesus. We need to stay awake for their sake. We can keep watch with our burning lamps, letting the others rest and conserve what little they have, even providing what we have for their use.
What it comes down to is this: we are called to stay alert and awake in the world around us, looking for places and ways the kingdom is making itself known, the places and ways the Spirit is doing her work. It is for us to join in that work, those efforts, that reality, sometime interpreting what is happening so others can catch a glimpse of the kingdom with us. Other times, silence is the best way, letting our passion, presence, and work stand on its own. Whatever we do, we must remain awake to God and the world around us if we are to be part of the kingdom’s reality.
This is how we bring forth justice rolling endlessly like a river and righteousness ever flowing like a stream: we stay awake, we work, we remain vigilant for where we are needed, and we give of what we have to any and all—be they wise or foolish—so that everyone finds out they have a place at the wedding feast.