Oil in the Lamp: Preparing Your Heart for Whatever Comes Next

There comes a moment in every long night when you discover what you actually brought with you. Not what you meant to bring. Not what you were pretty sure was in the bag. Not what you left sitting on the kitchen counter next to your keys. What you actually have. Anyone who has ever left Albuquerque for a road trip and realized somewhere around Santa Rosa that they forgot something important understands this principle. There is a big difference between “I thought we packed it” and “It is currently in the car.”

Jesus told a story about exactly that kind of moment. Except instead of a road trip, there was a wedding. Instead of a forgotten phone charger, there was oil. And instead of a mildly irritated spouse saying, “I asked you three times if you packed it,” there was a closed door. Suddenly, the stakes were much higher.

In Matthew 25, Jesus tells the story of ten women waiting for a bridegroom to arrive. All ten believed he was coming. All ten had lamps. All ten showed up. All ten waited. And, interestingly, all ten eventually fell asleep. That’s important because sometimes we read Bible stories and imagine the five wise women sitting upright all night, praying fervently, quoting Scripture, and looking judgmentally at the other five. Nope. Everybody fell asleep.
The difference wasn’t perfection. The difference was preparation. Five brought extra oil. Five didn’t. Then, at midnight, someone shouted that the bridegroom was coming.

Everybody woke up. Everybody grabbed their lamps. But suddenly five women discovered something uncomfortable: their lamps were going out. They turned to the women who had prepared and essentially said, “Can we borrow some of yours?” The answer was no. Not because the wise women were selfish. There simply wasn’t enough oil for everyone. While the unprepared women went looking for more, the bridegroom arrived. The prepared women entered the celebration, and the door closed. That’s a pretty sobering ending to a wedding story.

What separated these ten women? It wasn’t belief. All ten believed the bridegroom was coming. It wasn’t information. None of them knew exactly when he would arrive. It wasn’t even exhaustion. All ten fell asleep. The difference was incredibly simple: five prepared for the possibility that the wait might be longer than expected. Five didn’t. Which leaves us with a pretty important question: How much oil is in your lamp?

Somewhere along the way, Christians occasionally picked up a strange idea about faith. It goes something like this: “If I really trust God, I shouldn’t have to prepare.” Prepare financially? That’s fear. Plan ahead? That’s worry. Think about the future? Apparently that’s one step away from building a bunker and ordering 4,000 pounds of freeze-dried mashed potatoes.

But that’s not the pattern we see in Scripture. Noah believed God, so he built. Joseph believed God, so he stored. The wise virgins believed the bridegroom was coming, so they carried extra oil. Faith didn’t make them passive. Faith changed their behavior.

Sometimes we say we’re “waiting on God” when God may actually be waiting on us to do the last thing He told us to do. Noah didn’t stand outside every morning looking at the sky saying, “Lord, I’m trusting You for an ark.” He started cutting wood. Joseph didn’t spend seven years saying, “God will provide during the famine.” He built storehouses. The wise women didn’t say, “If the bridegroom wants these lamps burning, He’ll miraculously fill them.” They brought oil.

Preparation isn’t necessarily evidence that you don’t trust God. Sometimes preparation is evidence that you’ve been listening to Him. Or to put it another way, preparation is faith with work boots on.

This is where the conversation gets really interesting, because when we talk about preparation, particularly financial preparation, we immediately think about what we have. What’s in savings? What’s in retirement? What’s the house worth? How are the investments doing? And how did Costco get $327 from us when we went in for eggs? These are important questions. Especially the Costco one.

But there’s another form of wealth that’s much harder to put on a spreadsheet: What have you developed inside yourself?

Think about someone who has spent decades developing wisdom, skills, discipline, relationships, and experience. Strip away everything they own and place them somewhere unfamiliar with very little. Eventually, they’ll probably begin rebuilding. Why? Because you took away their resources, but you didn’t take away their resourcefulness. They still know how to solve problems. They still know how to work. They still recognize opportunity. They know how to build relationships. They’ve failed before and discovered that failure didn’t kill them. They know how to hear “no” without assuming their life is over.

Now reverse the scenario. Give someone a massive amount of money overnight without developing the character, discipline, wisdom, or capacity necessary to manage it. Their bank account changed overnight, but did they? That’s why wealth is bigger than an amount. Wealth is also a capacity, and capacity gets built from the inside out.

Maybe instead of only praying, “God, give me more,” we should occasionally pray, “God, make me capable of carrying more.” Because perhaps the greatest thing God can do isn’t immediately increase what’s in your hand. Maybe it’s increasing what’s inside of you.
Throughout this series, I’ve been thinking about six things that represent this kind of inner wealth: Character, Competence, Capacity, Community, Calling, and Courage. Think of them as six forms of oil worth carrying regardless of what happens with the economy, markets, technology, politics, or the world around us.

Character asks, “Can you be trusted with what you already have?” We sometimes assume more money will magically turn us into the person we want to become. “When I have more, I’ll be generous.” “When I make more, I’ll manage it better.” “When things calm down, I’ll finally become disciplined.” Maybe. But money tends to amplify what’s already there. Character isn’t something you purchase after success. Character is something you build before success requires it.

Competence asks another question: “Do you actually know what you’re doing?” Faith is not an excuse to remain ignorant. Scripture continually praises wisdom, understanding, knowledge, diligence, and skill. Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is learn something. Read the book. Take the class. Ask questions. Call someone who knows more than you. And here’s a revolutionary thought: YouTube University doesn’t have to be your only professor. Keep learning. Competence creates options.

Then there’s capacity. How much can you responsibly carry? Everybody wants increase. Very few people pray for the responsibility that accompanies it. We want the bigger opportunity without the bigger workload. We want the larger business without the larger problems. We want more resources without more responsibility. But increase requires capacity. Sometimes what feels like God delaying something may actually be God developing you. Before asking God to increase the size of the opportunity, perhaps we should ask Him to increase the size of the person carrying it.

Community matters too. Who are you walking with? Isolation makes uncertainty much more dangerous because when you’re alone, every fear starts sounding reasonable. You need people who encourage you. You need people who challenge you. You need people who know things you don’t. You need people who have already traveled roads you’re just beginning. And occasionally, you need someone who loves you enough to look across the table and say, “That’s a terrible idea.” Everybody needs that friend. Sometimes God’s provision isn’t something He puts in your hand. It’s someone He puts in your life.

Then there’s calling. What is all of this actually for? Joseph didn’t store grain so he could sit on top of a mountain of food saying, “Look how prepared I am!” His preparation eventually became provision for an entire nation. That’s Kingdom thinking. Maybe your financial margin isn’t ultimately about you. Maybe one day it allows you to help someone who is struggling. Maybe the business you’re building eventually provides someone’s job. Maybe the experience you’re gaining allows you to mentor someone. Maybe the mistakes you’ve survived give your children wisdom they won’t have to learn the hard way. Maybe your preparation becomes someone else’s provision.

That gives us a completely different reason to prepare. We’re not preparing simply because we’re afraid something bad might happen. We’re preparing because God may want to use us when something does.

And finally, there’s courage. You can develop all five of those things and still miss the moment if you don’t have courage. Eventually, you have to move. The opportunity arrives. The door opens. The decision has to be made. Suddenly all those months or years of preparation are tested. Courage doesn’t mean you’re never afraid. It simply means fear doesn’t get the final vote.

Here’s what I find fascinating about this entire conversation. Jesus tells the Parable of the Ten Virgins in Matthew 25 immediately after Matthew 24. And what were the disciples asking Jesus about in Matthew 24? The future. What’s going to happen? When will it happen? What will the signs be? How will we know?
Sound familiar?

We still ask those questions. What’s going to happen with the economy? What’s going to happen with the dollar? What’s going to happen with the markets? What’s going to happen politically? What’s going to happen globally? What’s coming next?
We want information. Jesus keeps talking about formation.

We want a timeline. Jesus talks about readiness. We want Him to tell us exactly what’s coming. Jesus seems deeply interested in who we’re becoming.
Maybe that’s because knowing exactly what happens next isn’t nearly as valuable as becoming the kind of person who can faithfully navigate whatever happens next.
So here’s the question: If tomorrow everything changed, what would still be inside you? Would your character remain? Would your competence remain? Would your capacity remain? Would your community remain? Would your calling remain? Would your courage remain?

Those things aren’t built overnight. They’re developed slowly, quietly, and often without anyone noticing. Nobody celebrates extra oil when the bridegroom arrives early. Nobody throws a party because you developed discipline when life was easy. Nobody gives you an award because you learned something before you needed it.
But then midnight comes.

And suddenly you’re incredibly thankful for everything you’ve been carrying.
So maybe the prayer isn’t simply, “God, show me what’s coming.”
Maybe it’s, “God, prepare me for whatever comes. Develop my character. Increase my competence. Expand my capacity. Surround me with community. Clarify my calling. Strengthen my courage. Put oil in my lamp.”

Because the bridegroom is coming. The question isn’t whether we know exactly when.
The question is whether, when the moment arrives, our lamps are ready.