The Oil of Faith for the Long Wait

 

Sermon: The Oil of Faith for the Long Wait

Text: Matthew 25:1-13
Occasion: Eternity Sunday

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Dear people of God, on this final Sunday of the Church Year, our focus is pulled to the finish line. We lift our eyes from the struggles, the routines, and the weariness of our daily walk to look toward the horizon of eternity. We remember and we rejoice that our Savior, Jesus Christ, who ascended into heaven, will one day return in glory.

And in our Gospel text today, Jesus gives us a story to prepare us for that day. It’s a story about a wedding, a delay, and a door. It’s a story that asks each one of us a very personal, very urgent question: Are you ready for the long wait?

“The kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom.” Right away, we know the setting. This is a joyful occasion. The bridesmaids are chosen, they have their lamps, they are part of the wedding party. They all look the same. They all have the same purpose. They are all waiting for the same bridegroom.

This, dear friends, is a picture of the visible Church. We are the ones with the lamps. We have been baptized into Christ. We bear the name Christian. We gather in His house. We look the part. We are waiting for our Bridegroom, Jesus.

But then comes the distinction that changes everything. “Five of them were foolish, and five were wise.” What was the difference? Was it that the wise were more energetic? More pious? Did they sing louder? No. The difference was hidden, but it was everything. “The wise took flasks of oil with their lamps.” The foolish took their lamps, but that was it. No extra oil.

And then, the crisis: “The bridegroom was delayed.”

Isn’t that the story of our lives? The early church cried, “Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus!” And He did not come as quickly as they thought. For 2,000 years, the Church has prayed, “Thy kingdom come.” And we are still waiting. The delay is real. And in the delay, something happens to all ten virgins: “They all became drowsy and slept.”

This is a word of grace for us. The Christian life is long, and it is tiring. Spiritual drowsiness is not a sin reserved for the wicked; it is the struggle of the saints. We grow weary in well-doing. Our prayer life falters. Our passion for God’s Word cools. We get consumed by the worries of this life. We fall asleep. And the text doesn’t condemn the wise for sleeping. The difference wasn’t their wakefulness; the difference was in their preparation before they fell asleep.

“But at midnight there was a cry: ‘Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’”

The timing is all wrong. It’s dark. It’s inconvenient. It’s unexpected. So it will be with the return of Christ. It will interrupt our slumber. And in that moment, the great division occurs.

The foolish virgins’ lamps are going out. In a panic, they turn to the wise and say, “Give us some of your oil!” But the wise give an answer that sounds harsh to our ears: “No. Go and buy some for yourselves.”

This is a crushing moment in the story. But it teaches us a vital, Lutheran truth: You cannot borrow faith. You cannot stand before God on the faith of your parents. You cannot enter the feast on the faith of your pastor or your spouse. Faith is not a communal commodity; it is a personal gift from God, held in the vessel of a human heart. Each one of us must have our own oil.

The foolish virgins rush off on a hopeless, midnight search for oil, and while they are gone, the bridegroom comes. “Those who were ready went in with him to the marriage feast, and the door was shut.”

Can you hear the finality of that sound? The click of the lock? The end of the opportunity?

Later, the other virgins come pounding on the door. “Lord, lord, open to us!” But he answers with the most terrifying words a person can ever hear: “Truly, I say to you, I do not know you.”

These are not pagans or murderers. These are bridesmaids. They had the lamp. They were in the wedding party. But they lacked the one thing needful: the oil that sustains the light through the long, dark delay.

So, what is this oil? If it’s not our church membership, our good deeds, or our theological knowledge, what is it?

In Lutheran understanding, the oil is the gift of faith itself, created and sustained by the Holy Spirit. It is a trusting, dependent, personal relationship with Jesus Christ. It is the life within the shell of religion.

And how do we get this oil? How do we keep our lamps filled?

You don’t have to go and buy it. You can’t earn it. It is given. It is given here, in this place, through the Means of Grace.

• The Oil is given in the Word of God. As the Scriptures are read and preached, the Holy Spirit works faith in our hearts. “Faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Romans 10:17).
• The Oil is given in Holy Baptism. In those waters, God connected you to the death and resurrection of Jesus, washing you and making you His own, pouring His Spirit into your heart.
• The Oil is given in the Lord’s Supper. Here, Christ comes to you now, in your weariness and drowsiness, to forgive your sins, to strengthen your faith, and to preserve you unto life everlasting.

“Watch therefore,” Jesus concludes, “for you know neither the day nor the hour.”

To “watch” is not to live in a state of panicked anxiety, staring at the sky. To watch, in the way of the wise virgins, is to live a life of faith, constantly returning to the source of the oil. It is to come to the Divine Service, not out of habit, but out of hunger. It is to open your Bible at home, not as a duty, but as a delight. It is to come to this altar with empty hands, saying, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief. Fill my lamp once more.”

The warning of this parable is severe. It calls us to look inward and ask, “Am I living on the faith of my past, or am I being filled today?” But the promise is glorious for those who are in Christ. Your Bridegroom is coming. The feast is prepared. And by the grace of God, through the faith the Holy Spirit gives and sustains in you, you are not just holding a lamp. You have the oil. You are ready.

And when the cry goes up at midnight, you will not be afraid. You will simply trim your lamp, and the light that shines will not be your own, but the light of Christ, shining in you. And you will go in with Him to the wedding feast that lasts forever.

Amen.
And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.