The Oil You Cannot Borrow: Matthew 25 on the Delay and a Readiness That Must Be Your Own

Ten people waited for the same bridegroom, and only five were ready when he came. Here is what the parable in Matthew 25 teaches about the delay, the oil no one can lend you, and the readiness that has to be your own.

The Lamp Everyone Could See

From the street, you could not have told them apart. Ten young women stood outside a wedding house, each holding a lamp, each waiting for the same man to arrive. They had the same invitation, the same assignment and the same hope. If you had been asked to pick out the five who would be shut outside before morning, you could not have done it.

That is what makes this story so unsettling. Jesus did not tell it about the crowd outside the faith. He told it about people who were already on the road to the wedding, people who looked ready and sounded ready, and who would have told you they were ready. The difference between them was hidden in a jar.

The parable presses a truth every serious follower of Jesus has to reckon with: some things cannot be borrowed. You can borrow money, tools, a car or a good idea. You cannot borrow what you will need at midnight.

The Hours Before the Hour

This is a parable about time, though not the kind we usually manage. It is about what we do with the long, unremarkable stretch before the moment that matters.

Nobody in the parable knew when the bridegroom would come. Everything depended on what each one had done before she knew. That is why readiness belongs in any honest talk about stewarding time. The hours nobody watches are the hours when the jar gets filled, or does not. When the cry finally comes, the time for filling is over, and all that is left is to find out what the waiting produced.

Lesson One: Everyone Had a Lamp

Jesus opens with a scene His listeners would have pictured easily. "At that time the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom." (Matthew 25:1, NIV).

We do not know the exact wedding customs behind the story, but the job is clear. These young women were to meet the groom and light his way into the celebration.

Then Jesus divides them with a single detail. "Five of them were foolish and five were wise. The foolish ones took their lamps but did not take any oil with them. The wise ones, however, took oil in jars along with their lamps." (Matthew 25:2-4, NIV).

Notice what the foolish ones did right. They showed up. They brought a lamp. They went out to meet him. They were not enemies of the bridegroom or people who had skipped the wedding. Their one failure was invisible: they had brought only what could be seen.

A lamp is the part of faith that shows. It is the church attendance, the familiar language, the volunteer badge, the verse on the wall. None of those things are bad. The wise carried lamps too. But a lamp is a container for light, not a source of it, and a person can hold one for years without much oil behind it.

The question Jesus puts to us is not whether we have a lamp. Most of us do. The question is what we have brought along that nobody can see.

Lesson Two: The Long Time in Coming

The story turns on one plain line. "The bridegroom was a long time in coming, and they all became drowsy and fell asleep." (Matthew 25:5, NIV).

Delay is the real test in this parable. If the groom had come within the hour, the foolish would never have been found out, because their lamps would have lasted. A short wait would have made the two groups look identical. Only a long wait exposes the difference.

That is often how God works with us. Early faith can run on enthusiasm, on the excitement of a new start, on the energy of the people around us. Time removes those supports one by one. The prayer goes unanswered longer than we expected. The ministry grows ordinary. The promise stays a promise. What keeps a person going in year twenty is not what got them started in year one.

Scripture does not treat the delay as neglect. "The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance." (2 Peter 3:9, NIV). The wait is mercy. It is time given to fill what is empty.

Notice too what Jesus does not criticize. All ten fell asleep, the wise along with the foolish. Their sleep is not the sin. The wise could rest because they had already prepared. Readiness is not anxious wakefulness. It is the quiet of a person whose jar is full.

Lesson Three: The Cry at Midnight

Then, at the worst possible hour, it happens. "At midnight the cry rang out: 'Here's the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!'" (Matthew 25:6, NIV).

Midnight is the hour when no one is at their best. It is dark, the shops are closed, and everyone is half awake. Jesus sets the moment of truth there on purpose. The moments that test us rarely arrive on a good day, with notice, after a full night's sleep. The call comes at two in the morning. The diagnosis comes the week the business is struggling. The trouble arrives when we are tired.

"Then all the virgins woke up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish ones said to the wise, 'Give us some of your oil; our lamps are going out.'" (Matthew 25:7-8, NIV).

Those last words are painful: our lamps are going out. The foolish had some light. Their lamps had burned through the evening on whatever was in them. They were not discovering that they had nothing. They were discovering that what they had would not last.

This is the mercy and the terror of a crisis. It does not create what is in us. It only shows us. Many of us have lit our lamps for years on a pastor's sermon, a spouse's prayers or a parent's convictions. It worked well enough in daylight. Midnight asks a different question: what do you have when you reach for the jar with your own hand?

Lesson Four: The Oil No One Can Lend

The reply of the wise sounds cold on first reading. "'No,' they replied, 'there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.'" (Matthew 25:9, NIV).

We should be careful here, because this verse has been misused. It is not a lesson in stinginess. Scripture calls us again and again to open hands and to bearing one another's burdens, and nothing in this parable cancels that. The story is showing us something about the nature of the oil.

What is the oil? Faithful readers have given different answers. Some see the Holy Spirit. Others see good works, or a living faith, or the steady obedience that shows genuine belief. Jesus does not say, and it may be wise not to press the detail too hard. Many careful teachers think the point lies less in decoding the oil than in the plain fact of being prepared.

Whatever the oil stands for, the parable tells us what kind of thing it is. It is something that cannot be handed across at the last minute. You can give someone money. You cannot give them your forty years of prayer. A wife cannot transfer her walk with God to her husband. A father cannot sign over his obedience to his son. A pastor cannot pour his knowledge of Christ into a member the way you would fill a cup.

We can point each other to the source. We can pray for one another, teach one another and sit up through the night with one another. All of that is love. But at the moment of meeting the bridegroom, every person stands there with their own jar.

Lesson Five: And the Door Was Shut

Off they went to buy oil, doing the right thing at the wrong time. "But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut." (Matthew 25:10, NIV).

Those final words are among the most sobering in the Gospels. For the whole story, the door has been open. The invitation was real. The time to prepare was real. Then the bridegroom arrives, and the door that stood open for hours closes in a moment.

Notice that the foolish did eventually do what they should have done. They went to get the oil. Their intention was good and their effort was sincere. Their problem was timing. There is a kind of good intention that has been waiting for a better season, and Jesus warns us that seasons end.

"Later the others also came. 'Lord, Lord,' they said, 'open the door for us!'" (Matthew 25:11, NIV). They use the right title, twice. But the time for arranging things has passed.

This is not a picture of God enjoying someone's exclusion. Everything in the Gospels shows a Lord who pursues people, who waits, who sends invitation after invitation. That is exactly why the warning carries such weight. A doctor who loves you will tell you the truth about how long you have. Jesus tells this story while the door is still open, for the sake of everyone who can still hear it.

If you are reading this, the door is open. That is the good news in this hard lesson. The shop is not closed. Today is still a day to go and get the oil.

Lesson Six: I Don't Know You

The parable's most piercing line comes last. "But he replied, 'Truly I tell you, I don't know you.'" (Matthew 25:12, NIV).

He does not say they arrived too late, or that they forgot the oil, or that they failed the assignment. He says something more personal. The issue beneath the missing oil is a missing relationship. Jesus had already said something very close to this in the Sermon on the Mount, about people who would call Him Lord and be told He never knew them (Matthew 7:21-23).

This keeps us from turning the parable into a program. Preparation here is not earning a seat by storing up religious effort. Nobody buys their way into this banquet. The wise are not more impressive than the foolish. They are the ones who actually belong to the bridegroom and live like it.

Jesus defined eternal life in exactly these terms when He prayed to the Father. "Now this is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent." (John 17:3, NIV).

That changes what we mean by getting ready. Readiness is not a checklist that ends in a passing grade. It is knowing Him and being known by Him, in the plain way that any real relationship grows: time together, honest speech, trust tested and kept. A person can know a great deal about Jesus, serve in His name and use His title easily, and still not know Him. And a person who knows Him, however weak or tired, will not be a stranger at that door.

So the deepest question of the parable is not, "Have I done enough?" It is simpler and harder: "Does He know me, and do I know Him?"

For Business Leaders: Readiness Cannot Be Delegated

Good leaders delegate almost everything. You have people who prepare your numbers, draft your remarks and manage your calendar. That is wise stewardship. But there is one thing no assistant can do for you.

Your walk with God cannot be staffed. No chief of staff can hold your integrity, and no advisor can pray your prayers. The company may run on a dozen capable people, and yet the night the lawsuit lands or the partner walks away, you will find out what you personally have in the jar. Prepare with everything you have, and rest the outcome on Him.

"The horse is made ready for the day of battle, but victory rests with the Lord." (Proverbs 21:31, NIV).

Your Obedience Step

Block twenty minutes at the start of each workday this week, before your inbox opens, for Scripture and prayer. Treat it like your most important meeting. If you can only find that time by moving something else, move it.

For Community Leaders: You Cannot Carry Their Oil

People who lead churches and nonprofits face two dangers from this story. The first is running on the fumes of public ministry, teaching about God more than talking with Him. Preparing a lesson is not the same as sitting with the Lord for your own soul.

The second danger is trying to be everyone's jar. Some leaders exhaust themselves by trying to supply what only God can give the people they serve. Love them and walk with them, but keep pointing them past yourself.

"Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else, for each one should carry their own load." (Galatians 6:4-5, NIV).

Your Obedience Step

Name one person whose spiritual life you have been trying to carry. This week, instead of solving the next problem for them, sit down and help them begin a simple daily practice of Scripture and prayer of their own. Then schedule an hour alone with God for yourself that has nothing to do with your next lesson.

For Home Leaders: Your Children Need Their Own Jar

Parents want to hand their faith to their children the way they hand down a family name. We can take them to church, pray over them and live what we say in front of them. But the moment comes when a child has to meet God personally, and no family history can do that for them.

Paul honored the faith that passed through Timothy's family, and then he named the turn that matters: it now lives in you also. That is what every home leader is praying for. Your goal is children who have convictions of their own.

"I am reminded of your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and, I am persuaded, now lives in you also." (2 Timothy 1:5, NIV).

Your Obedience Step

At dinner this week, ask each child, or your spouse, one honest question: "What has God been saying to you lately?" Listen without correcting. Then let someone other than you lead the family's prayer that night.

For the Everyday Believer: Look in the Jar Tonight

You may be living on borrowed oil and not know it. It does not feel like a crisis. It feels like a good sermon on Sunday, a favorite podcast on the commute and a friend who always prays for you. Those are gifts. Just ask what would be left if they were all taken away next week.

Nothing about the fix is complicated. Oil is gathered slowly, in small and private ways, and today is the day to begin. Continue in Him, and you will have nothing to fear when He comes.

"And now, dear children, continue in him, so that when he appears we may be confident and unashamed before him at his coming." (1 John 2:28, NIV).

Your Obedience Step

For the next seven nights, spend ten minutes alone with God before bed: no phone, no podcast, no one else's words but Scripture. Read a short passage, tell Him honestly how your day went, and listen.

Keep Watch

Jesus ends the story with one command. "Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour." (Matthew 25:13, NIV).

Keeping watch does not mean staring at the sky or trying to calculate the date. The wise slept, remember. It means living today in a way that would be fine if today were the day. Jesus had just said the same thing plainly. "So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him." (Matthew 24:44, NIV).

This parable is both a warning and an invitation. The bridegroom is coming, and the story ends in a wedding banquet, not in a courtroom. Everything in it is aimed at getting us through that door. Do not wait for the cry to find out what is in your jar. Look now, while there is time, and go to the One who gives what you lack.

Questions for Reflection

1. If the people around me who strengthen my faith were gone, what would be left that is truly mine?
2. Which parts of my faith are lamp, visible to others, and which parts are oil, known only to God?
3. How has a long wait exposed what I was really running on?
4. Where have I been putting off something God has clearly told me to do, assuming there will be a better season?
5. Whose faith have I been trying to carry, and how can I point them to the source instead?
6. If Jesus spoke honestly about how well He and I know each other, what would He say?

Closing Prayer

Lord Jesus, I confess that I have often been content with a lamp that others can see. I have leaned on other people's prayers and borrowed other people's words. Show me what is really in my jar, and do not let me fool myself. Thank you for the long wait, because your patience has given me time. Thank you that the door is open today. I do not want to know about you only. I want to know you and to be known by you. Teach me to gather oil in the quiet hours, in your Word and in prayer and in plain daily obedience. Help me love the people around me without trying to take your place in their lives. When the cry comes at midnight, let it find me glad to see you. I want to go in with you to the banquet. In Jesus' name, Amen.

Leave Your Message

Everybody at Grace Fellowship knew Lena Hartley. She ran the meal train, kept the keys to the fellowship hall and could find you a folding table, a casserole or a substitute Sunday school teacher in under an hour. People said that if the church ever caught fire, Lena would already have a sign-up sheet.

She was also, at forty-four, still calling her mother every time something went wrong.

It had started in college. A bad grade, a bad boyfriend, a bad feeling: she would dial the number and say, "Mama, pray for me." Her mother would stop what she was doing and pray right there on the phone, in the same low voice she used for everything. Lena would hang up lighter. Later it was the miscarriage, then the layoff, then her husband's surgery. Lena was the one who organized prayer for everyone else. When she needed it, she called Mama.

Near the end, in the back bedroom with the oxygen humming, her mother took her hand.

"Baby," she said, "you've been calling me for thirty years. Who you going to talk to when I don't pick up?"

Lena laughed and told her she wasn't going anywhere. Then she went to see about the casseroles.

Her mother died in March. Lena handled the funeral beautifully. Everyone said so. She paid the last of the bills and meant to cancel the phone line, and never quite did.

In November, at ten minutes to two in the morning, a state trooper called about her son.

Theo was nineteen. There had been ice on the overpass. By the time Lena got to the hospital, they had already taken him into surgery, and a tired young doctor was using words like "swelling" and "we'll know more in a few hours." Her husband was driving back from Tulsa and would not arrive until dawn.

She sat down in the small waiting room with the humming vending machine. Her hands were shaking. She took out her phone and scrolled to the top of her favorites, and before she had decided anything, she had pressed the name.

It rang four times. Then there was the click, and the low voice.

"This is Dorothy. I can't get to the phone, but leave your message, and I'll be praying on it."

Lena stayed on the line after the tone, breathing. Then she hung up and called again. She called four times. Each time, the same voice promised the same thing, and each time, nobody was there.

She tried to pray then. She knew how it went. She had opened a hundred meetings. She got out the first few words, the ones she always used, and they sat in the air of that little room like furniture in an empty house. She realized she did not know how to say what came next. She had spent thirty years arranging for prayer. She could not remember the last time she had been alone with God and said anything true.

She thought about the prayer chain. She could have forty people awake in ten minutes. Her thumb was already on the group. And she knew they would pray, and she would be grateful, and it would not be enough. It was two in the morning, and whatever she was going to have tonight, she was going to have to have herself.

She set the phone face down on the chair.

"I don't know how to do this," she said out loud. Her voice cracked in the empty room. "I don't know you the way she did. I've been using her number. I'm sorry. Please. It's Lena. Please."

It was the worst prayer she had ever prayed, and the first one in years that was hers.

Theo came out of surgery a little after six. He would walk again, slowly, with a long year of therapy ahead of him.

The next Sunday she gave the keys to the fellowship hall to someone else for a while. People assumed it was because of Theo.

Every morning that winter, before the house woke up, she sat in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and an old, plain Bible, and she talked. She was clumsy at it for a long time. Some days all she said was, "It's Lena." Some days, she found, that was plenty.

She never did cancel the line. She paid the small bill every month, and now and then she called just to hear the voice. But she did not ask it for anything anymore.

"Hey, Mama," she said one morning in April, after the tone. "I picked up."

Go Deeper

Ready to put this teaching into practice? What Fear Buries is a guided workbook drawn from Matthew 25 and Genesis 1 and 2. Work through four movements at your own pace and finish with one page you build for yourself: Your Talent Inventory.

Get the workbook