The Ten Virgins

Theme: Prepared and Awake Text: Matthew 25:1–13 Key Verse: “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.” (Matthew 25:13)

I. The Danger of Spiritual Sleep

There’s a difference between thinking you’re ready and actually being ready.

Most of us know that sinking feeling of waking up late—realizing your alarm was set, but you slept right through it. The meeting started without you. The bus pulled away. The flight left the gate. You weren’t ready when it mattered most.

When I drove truck, one of the most important parts of every day was the pre-trip inspection. Before you ever turned a wheel, you checked the tires, the brakes, the lights, the coupling, the air system—everything. It wasn’t busywork; it was life and death. A missed detail could mean a blowout at 70 mph, a brake failure on a hill, or worse. The pre-trip wasn’t glamorous, but it was essential. It kept me safe, and it kept everyone else on the road safe. Neglect it, and you’re gambling with disaster.

In many ways, the Christian life is the same. On the outside, everything can look fine—tires look inflated, paint polished, lights shining. But if the heart of faith isn’t supplied and checked, the breakdown is only a matter of time. Spiritual drowsiness sets in. We assume we’re ready because we look the part. But Jesus warns us in today’s parable that when the final inspection comes—when the Bridegroom arrives—many will find themselves unprepared.

His words cut deep: “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.” (Matt. 25:13).

This parable isn’t meant to terrify God’s people into panic, any more than a pre-trip inspection is meant to scare a truck driver out of driving. It’s meant to keep us awake, alert, and truly ready. It exposes how easily we grow spiritually drowsy, lulled by distractions, self-confidence, or simple neglect.

But here’s the good news: while we so often forget to prepare, Christ Himself is the One who keeps our lamps burning. He doesn’t just hand us the keys and say, “Good luck.” He supplies the oil. He fills the tank. He gives us His Spirit and His Word so that when the midnight cry comes, we are ready—not because of our perfection, but because of His provision.

II. The Setting of the Parable – Lamps and Oil

Jesus doesn’t give us an abstract lecture on theology—He tells a story people could picture in their minds. Weddings in His day were not quiet little gatherings; they were the highlight of community life. A wedding meant the whole village turned out. There was music, dancing, feasting, and most importantly—procession.

Here’s how it worked: the bridegroom would come—often at night—to the bride’s home. When word went out, the bridesmaids, or virgins, would join the joyful parade back to the groom’s house for the wedding banquet. They weren’t just tagging along—they had an essential role. They were torchbearers. Their lamps lit the way, symbolizing joy, honor, and readiness. To be without a lamp—or without oil to keep it burning—wasn’t just a minor mistake. It was unthinkable. It was dishonoring to the bride and groom.

Now notice what Jesus says: all ten looked ready. Every one of them had a lamp. From the outside, you couldn’t tell the difference between the wise and the foolish. They were dressed alike, standing in the same place, waiting for the same groom. But half of them had brought what really mattered—oil. The others had lamps with no supply. They had the outward show, but no inward reality.

It’s here Jesus presses the deeper point. The lamp represents faith—what shines before others. But the oil represents what sustains that faith: God’s Word and Spirit. A lamp can look fine for a moment, but without oil, it flickers out. A person can appear religious, moral, even busy with church, but without the living Word of God and the Spirit kindling and feeding faith, it’s only an empty shell.

That’s what Jesus is driving at: there’s a kind of “Christianity” that has all the trappings but none of the life. It looks like the real thing, but when the waiting drags on, it can’t endure. The foolish virgins weren’t hostile to the groom—they were simply unprepared. And their lack of oil was revealed only when it mattered most.

This is a warning and a wake-up call. Faith cannot survive on yesterday’s oil. We cannot coast on old confirmation verses, memories of past devotion, or the appearance of religion. Faith needs to be supplied, filled, sustained—daily—by God’s living Word and His Spirit.

And here’s the gospel hint tucked in already: our Lord doesn’t demand we create our own oil. He provides it. His Word is the oil. His Spirit is the flame. The Bridegroom Himself supplies what we need so that when He comes, our lamps burn bright.

III. The Danger of Growing Drowsy

Verse 5 says: “The bridegroom was a long time in coming, and they all became drowsy and fell asleep.” Notice—all ten fell asleep, both wise and foolish alike. The waiting was long. The night stretched on. The excitement of the moment wore thin.

That’s a striking detail. Jesus isn’t just pointing the finger at the foolish virgins. Even the wise, the faithful, grew weary. Waiting is hard. And the delay of Christ’s return can wear us down too. We start to lose urgency. We start to assume the Groom isn’t coming anytime soon. And so, spiritually, we doze off.

This is nothing new. The prophet Amos warned Israel in our Old Testament reading (Amos 5:18–24): “Woe to you who long for the day of the Lord! … That day will be darkness, not light.” The Israelites thought they were ready. They had the temple. They had the rituals. They had the traditions. Outwardly, everything looked in order. But God saw through the motions. Their worship was empty because their hearts were far from Him.

The same warning echoes in Revelation 3, to the church at Sardis: “You have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead. Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die.” (Rev. 3:1–2). Sardis looked like a thriving church on the outside—good reputation, active programs, people filling the pews—but inside, they were spiritually asleep. Outward Christianity had masked inward emptiness.

And here’s the law for us: we too grow drowsy in faith. We yawn at the things of God. We nod off during the waiting. We get distracted by careers, comfort, politics, entertainment, and worries. We tell ourselves, “There’s plenty of time to get serious about God later.” Like the foolish virgins, we assume the lamp will stay lit on its own.

It’s like falling asleep at the wheel. Truck drivers know this is one of the deadliest dangers on the road. You don’t mean to fall asleep. You think you can handle it. Just a little drowsy. But before you know it, you’ve drifted across the center line. Spiritually, that’s where we live far too often—half awake, half distracted, lulled by the hum of life’s routine, until suddenly the cry rings out: “Here’s the Bridegroom!”

Jesus tells us this parable so we don’t shrug off the danger. The danger isn’t just for “bad Christians” or “foolish outsiders.” The danger is for all of us. Every one of us is tempted to sleep our way through the waiting, mistaking busyness or outward religion for real readiness.

And so Christ says: “Wake up. Watch. Be ready.”

IV. The Midnight Cry and the Closed Door

Then suddenly, at midnight, comes the cry: “Here’s the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!” (v. 6). The long waiting is over. The Groom has arrived. And in an instant, everything changes.

Think about that. There is no countdown clock. No advance notice. Just a sudden announcement, and the moment of truth is here. The lamps are lifted, but only those who had oil are shining.

The foolish virgins, caught unprepared, scramble. They beg: “Give us some of your oil!” But faith cannot be borrowed. No one else’s spirituality will save you. No parent’s faith, no spouse’s devotion, no pastor’s prayers can stand in for your own. When the Bridegroom comes, it is not enough to have once stood in the circle of the faithful—you must be supplied yourself.

And then comes the most chilling sentence in the parable: “The door was shut.” (v. 10). Finality. The opportunity to prepare is gone. No more second chances. No more quick runs to buy oil. No pleading, no bargaining, no excuses. The foolish cry, “Lord, Lord, open the door for us!” But the Bridegroom answers, “Truly I tell you, I don’t know you.” (v. 12).

Can you hear the weight of that? Not: “You didn’t try hard enough.” Not: “You should have done better.” But: “I don’t know you.” The relationship wasn’t there. They had the lamp, but not the life. They looked the part, but their hearts weren’t supplied.

This is judgment—sobering, unshakable, eternal. Jesus isn’t using scare tactics. He’s telling the truth. There will be a day when the door closes. A day when grace gives way to justice. A day when those who have only pretended at faith will find themselves on the outside.

It’s like standing outside an airport gate after it’s closed. You can see the plane through the window. You can plead with the attendant. But once the door is sealed, it’s sealed. Multiply that a thousand times, and you get the picture of eternal separation. The tragedy is not that people wanted to get in but weren’t allowed—the tragedy is that they were unprepared when the moment came.

And so Jesus tells us this story not to crush us with despair, but to wake us up to the reality: there will be a midnight cry. There will be a closed door. The question is, when it comes, will your lamp be burning?

V. The Gospel Hope: Christ Keeps Our Lamps Burning

The parable leaves us with that haunting image: the shut door, the desperate cries, and the chilling words—“I don’t know you.” If we stop there, it feels crushing. Because if we’re honest, we know how often we’ve been foolish. We know the times we’ve let our lamps run low. We know how often we’ve treated faith lightly, assuming there would always be time later to get serious.

And if entrance into the wedding feast depended on our perfect watchfulness, who among us would make it inside? Not one.

But here is the gospel: we do not keep our own lamps burning. Christ Himself supplies the oil. The very Bridegroom who warns us is also the Savior who prepares us. The same Jesus who tells this parable is the Jesus who went to the cross for you. He knows our drowsiness. He knows our weakness. He knows our tendency to drift. And yet He has supplied what we lack.

Psalm 24 asks: “Who may ascend the hill of the Lord? Who may stand in His holy place?” The answer: only those made clean by God. Left to ourselves, our lamps sputter and go out. But Christ has filled them with His grace.

He filled them at your baptism, when He washed you clean and placed His Spirit within you.

He fills them through His Word, which continually nourishes and rekindles faith.

He fills them in His Supper, where His very body and blood strengthen weary hearts.

Your lamp burns not because you are so diligent, but because Christ Himself fills it. The oil you need is not something you must scrounge up at the last minute—it is something your Savior provides freely, faithfully, and abundantly.

Jesus Christ is the Bridegroom who died for His Bride, the Church. By His death and resurrection, He has made us ready. He is not a distant Lord waiting to catch you unprepared—He is the Savior who provides everything you need until He returns.

Yes, there will be a midnight cry. Yes, there will be a closed door. But in Christ, you need not fear either. Because when the Bridegroom looks at you, washed in His blood and sealed by His Spirit, He will not say, “I don’t know you.” He will say: “You are mine. Come, the feast is ready.”

VI. Living Awake and Prepared

So what does it mean to “keep watch”? Not pacing by the window in fear, worried you might miss the call. Not drawing charts and timelines, trying to calculate the exact day and hour. Watchfulness is not paranoia—it’s faithfulness.

To “keep watch” means living in daily faith, supplied and sustained by Christ:

Daily repentance—not pretending you’ve got it all together, but confessing your sin and trusting His forgiveness.

Daily supply—staying close to His Word and His Supper, so that the oil of His grace continually fills your heart.

Daily love—living for your neighbor in mercy and kindness, not to earn heaven, but as the evidence that your lamp is alive with His light.

Preparedness is not perfection. It’s dependence. The wise virgins weren’t better than the foolish—they were simply supplied. Preparedness means clinging to Christ, leaning not on yourself, but letting Him keep you ready.

VII. The Wedding Feast Awaits

So we return to Jesus’ closing words: “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.” (Matt. 25:13)

One day—whether at midnight or morning—the cry will ring out: “Here’s the Bridegroom! Come out to meet Him!” And for those in Christ, the door will not shut against you. It will swing wide open, into a feast beyond imagination—the marriage supper of the Lamb.

For the world, the Day of the Lord may be darkness. But for you who are in Christ, washed in His blood, it will be light and joy and song. The waiting will be over. The Bridegroom will embrace His Bride. And we will dwell with Him forever.

So, brothers and sisters, stay awake. Keep your lamp filled. Not by your effort, but by Christ’s grace. The Bridegroom is coming. And He will not forget His Bride.

Even so, come quickly, Lord Jesus. Amen.

Closing Prayer

Gracious Lord Jesus, You are the Bridegroom who has loved Your Bride and given Yourself for her. We confess how often we grow weary and drowsy, distracted by the cares of this life. Forgive us for our foolishness and for the times our faith grows dim.

Thank You that You are the One who supplies what we lack. Thank You for the oil of Your Spirit, poured out in our baptism. Thank You for Your Word, which strengthens us. Thank You for Your Supper, where You feed us with Your very body and blood.

Keep us awake, O Lord. Keep us ready—not by our strength, but by Your grace. Teach us daily repentance, daily faith, daily love. And when the midnight cry sounds, let us be found prepared—not in ourselves, but in You.

Until that day, keep us steadfast, watching and waiting with joy. And on that great Day, bring us at last into the marriage feast that has no end.

For You live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.