It has been several decades since Pastor John Lloyd Ogilvie wrote his book about the parables of Jesus titled, The Autobiography of God. As Ogilvie pointed out, this “autobiography” – this self-writing – is exactly what the parables of Jesus are.[1] They are the description of the kingdom of God by God’s own self.” Jesus did not write them down as an author would; he told them to small groups, to angry crowds, to the masses, to individuals, and most often, to his disciples. He painted word-pictures about what life would be like on the other side. And all of these centuries later, Christians young and old have continued to gain glimpses of heaven by reading and telling the stories Jesus told.

We learn from God’s autobiography that the kingdom of heaven is not at all like the kingdom of the world. There are differences; significant differences. Differences that affect how we look at life in God’s kingdom on earth. For instance, in God’s kingdom, fathers forgive sons, even though the sons may thoughtlessly squander half of the family fortune. In the kingdom of heaven, workers who work one hour are paid the same as the workers who worked a lifetime. In the kingdom, going out of one’s way for one’s neighbor is honored and encouraged, and self-serving security is despised. In the kingdom of God, a shepherd will leave 99 sheep in the pasture in order to seek the one who had wandered away. These are the parables. This is God’s autobiography.

And yet, we read these stories and scratch our heads at their crazy implications – and they are crazy, you know! – we wonder about their practicality. Prodigal sons and good Samaritans are not of much value in the world’s twenty-first-century economy. Looking for one lost lamb is not a cost-effective practice. Labor unions will not allow a full day’s pay for a half-day of work unless everybody gets it. In short, the parables that describe the kingdom are very different from the world in which you and I live. But you already knew that.

Yet, the parable that stands before us today is unique. This is one that we could have written, for there is much similarity between the parable and our contemporary world. In Jesus’ parable, people who are not prepared are called “foolish.” We would concur. “Get your own oil, I’m not sharing!” Those are our words precisely. “You were too late; you can’t come in.” Spoken like one of us. This is a parable with our own world’s values intact, and yet Jesus says that this, too, is how it will be in the kingdom of heaven. This is a parable of watching and waiting and being ready. If it sounds too harsh to come from Jesus’ lips, then perhaps we have misunderstood the parable. There’s got to be a word of grace here, right? There simply has to be, for this is the autobiography of God, for heaven’s sake! 

On the front chancel wall at Our Savior’s Lutheran Church in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, there is a forty-foot high mural depicting the ascension of Jesus. All of the disciples are present there, along with Mary, and Mary Magdalene, and two brightly-dressed angels. The words written at the bottom of the mural are attributed to those angels:

“Galileans, why do you stand looking up into heaven? This same Jesus whom you saw go up into heaven will come again in the same way.”

So the waiting had officially begun. Anyone who knew of Jesus recounted the times he had promised that he would return, and the angels of Ascension Day confirmed it. But you see, most thought Jesus’ return was imminent. It would only be a matter of a few days…a couple of weeks at most. And so these faithful Christian people waited… and waited...and waited for the return of the Savior.

Have you ever waited for someone who was late? Sure you have. A Friday night date, or a ride to work, or dinner guests? It’s the most exasperating thing we ever do – to wait. When they’re just a few minutes late, we’re relieved because we really weren’t ready for them anyway! When they are half an hour late, we get angry. After an hour, we become worried. But sooner or later in our waiting, we think the dreaded thought. “I’ll bet they aren’t coming at all. No phone call. No email. They’re simply not going to show.”

The ascension of Jesus took place in 29 AD, Matthew’s gospel was written about 70 AD. By the time Matthew had recorded this parable, the Christian Church had already waited for more than forty years. Do you suppose that waiting got pretty old after forty years? Do you suppose some Christians lost interest or patience, or even lost faith that Jesus would ever come back for them? I mean, how much oil do you need in your lamp to keep it burning for forty years?

But it has now been two millennia since the ascension of Jesus, and the idea that the Christian church is waiting in breathless anticipation for him to return has grown pretty dim. We say we are waiting…watching…anticipating, but in the meantime, other things have captured our attention. We’re raising our children. We’re planning for our retirements. We’re arranging 30-year mortgages on our homes. And all of this is done without much thought to the coming of Christ. I mean, he didn’t come last century. He hasn’t come so far this century. Who knows? He might not be coming at all.

But you see, he is coming; scripture promises it. We don’t know when; Jesus indicated that he didn’t even know when. Not even those angels in heaven know when. But I can tell you that today, and the gospel readings in Advent will reinforce the promise, that Jesus is indeed coming again.

So in the meantime, what do we do? We sleep. Like the maidens in our parable, we sleep during this wait that seems endless. And that’s okay. Notice that the maidens in the story were not criticized for their slumber. And notice too, that both maidens wise and maidens foolish were able to sleep, though I think for different reasons. The foolish maidens slept out of boredom. They had long since lost interest in ever seeing the bridegroom, and their lack of oil was an indication of their apathy. They never really expected to see the bridegroom. The wise maidens, however, were able to sleep because they were at peace. Their oil lamps were full. They had done all they could in preparation. They were ready, with nothing left to do but wait.

This parable of the maidens, if it does anything, it encourages us to keep our oil lamps filled as we wait. The oil is not our good deeds. It is not doing things that will make Jesus love us more. The oil is not jumping through hoops until Jesus comes, so that when he does come, he will be impressed with our effort. We have grace for that! The oil of our lamps is the oil of faith. It is the oil of prayer. It is the oil of loving Jesus and serving our neighbor. Our oil is replenished through the study of God’s word, and singing hymns of praise, and recalling the depth of his love. Being ready is not being perfect. Being ready might not even mean being awake. Being ready is trusting that God’s promises are true, and God’s grace is sufficient.

Many years ago, I saw a young man at the state fair wearing a T-shirt with the likeness of Jesus on the front, and these words printed there:

Jesus is coming soon…

And as he walked by, I noticed that the back of the shirt completed the message:

And is he ticked off!

People, he is coming soon, and he comes in judgment, but he is not ticked off. He comes in love, and compassion; filled with grace. He comes looking for the flames that flicker in the lives of those who wait.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

1. © 1981, The Autobiography of God, John Lloyd Ogilvie, Baker Publishing