Got Oil?
"Got Oil?"
Matthew 25:1-13
Broadway Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)
David A. Shirey
I had a family of dairy farmers in my church in Indiana. One day while I was visiting Chuck and Joan’s farm, I spotted a coffee table book filled with photographs from the advertising campaign the dairy industry launched years ago, the one that featured the smiling faces of celebrities wearing a trademark white milk moustache and the caption: Got milk?
I imagine a similar photo for this morning’s parable: Bridesmaids’ smiling faces bathed in the soft glow of light from the lamps they’re holding. The caption reads: Got oil?
Jesus told of ten bridesmaids who grabbed their lamps and dashed off to await the groom's arrival. But he was late, and as the night grew long, five of the lamps began to burn low. The five bridesmaids with the flickering lamps ran to the nearest convenience store for a refill, but it was too late. When they returned, the party had already begun. The door was locked. They were left outside, looking in. I'm trying to imagine a photo of their faces. It would not have been pretty. They had run out of oil.
Truth be told, I've run out of oil. I know you have, too. In terms of our ability at that point in our lives to function well, the needle on the oil gauge was pointing at the big orange capital letter "E." Empty. We don’t call it burned out for nothing.
In the parable, do you remember why the foolish bridesmaids' lamps burned out? They weren't prepared for the long haul. They went out figuring it'd be a short wait until the bridegroom came. But though they had enough oil to keep their lamps burning brightly for a few hours, they didn’t have enough to keep them burning long into the night. I look at myself back in one of my early experiences of running on empty and I realize I did the same thing. I was unprepared. I had no idea how much oil is required to keep the lamp of a pastor, a father, a husband, a human being burning for the long haul.
Now, like those bridesmaids in the parable, I started off with my lamp filled and my lamp burning brightly. Don't we all?
When I was baptized back in 1973, I came out of the waters oiled and shining. It was all systems Go! It was towel off and take off. Pedal to the metal. Lead on O King Eternal, the day of march has come.
And when I became Jennie's husband in June of 1984 my lamp was full to the brim. Light was beaming from my face in the wedding photos. It was, I do. I do. I do!
And when I became a father in February of 1986, after I finished wiping away the tears and blowing my nose and feeding quarters into the hospital pay phone so as to call everybody I could think of-- my cup runneth over. My lamp lights were on high beam so ready was I to be the perfect parent forever to my boy.
Which is all to say I started off with a lamp full of oil just like all ten of those bridesmaids. But what I was to discover the hard way is the lamp full of oil we start with isn't enough to see us through to the finish. So it was one day I found myself three years married, two years employed, one year a parent... and out of oil. It never dawned on me I'd run out.
Jesus’ parable reminds us that what we need is a faith sufficient for the long haul. What we need is a relationship with God-- the source of all light and life—that is so deeply rooted that when the trying days and nights come and the flame begins to flicker, we'll still have something to draw from – “strength beyond our own strength” – to keep our lamps burning.
In our walk of faith. In our chosen vocations. At the end of the semester. In our relationships with those we love and those who are entrusted to our care. We need a faith – oil enough to last a lifetime. Hence the brilliance of Taby Lane who suggested we put on our musical menu this morning that traditional camp song with enduring contemporary relevance: "Give me oil in my lamp keep me burning, keep me burning ‘till the break of day.” That little ditty is in fact a prayer that packs a big truth, namely, every life will have long, dark nights during which lamps that haven’t been tended and replenished will go out. We need a large reserve of oil – faith for the long haul.
And here's the thing: such faith can't be picked up in a moment's notice. Remember the parable? The foolish bridesmaids turned in desperation to the others when their lamps began to flicker and said, "Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out" (Matt 25:8) The answer they received was, “Perhaps there will not be enough for us and for you.” (Matt 25:9). At first reading, I wanted to scold those five for not sharing. "Come on! You've got plenty. Pour some of your oil into their lamps." But then it dawned on me it wasn't a matter of their not wanting to, it was that they couldn't. Listen: there are some things that simply can’t be transferred in a moment's notice from one person to another no matter how much we might wish they could be. Character is one: a moral compass and a sturdy backbone are formed over time. Not in a moment. Patience is another. “Give me patience and give it now!” Not happenin.’ Wisdom comes over a lifetime, not in an instant. As William Barclay noted, "Certain things cannot be obtained at the last minute” (Matthew, volume 2, p. 330).
Bottom line: long haul faith isn't available on short-term notice. Take those foolish bridesmaids. Or, take the man who came into my office several years ago desperate for someone to hear his story, which I was glad to do. He then proceeded to outline for me the sad state in which he found his life and made an even sadder request: "I want faith," he said. "Can you say a prayer or read me something out of the Bible?" As if years of neglect and omission could be offset by an instantaneous infusion of oil… which I couldn’t give him in a moment’s notice.
Jesus' parable tells us the only way to insure we’ll have adequate oil is to cultivate a supply of it in advance of when it’s needed and to replenish it day by day. That’s what I told the man who came to my office – Curtis was his name. I told him there are no tricks or short-cuts to a lasting oil supply. I told him life-giving, soul-sustaining faith is available to him in the same way it has always been available-- through regularly spending time doing the things that exercise souls toward spiritual fitness. You know what those things are. I found a bookmark in the Gathering Area on which is printed what you call Eight Keys of Discipleship:
Pray Daily
Worship Weekly
Read the Bible Regularly
Participate in a Relational Group
Give Generously and Gratefully
Engage in the Life of Service
Share Your Faith
Honor a Sabbath Time
Eight gallons of oil is what those are if practiced regularly over time. I commended those very practices to Curtis when he came to me with an empty lamp in search of oil. To his credit, he joined the church that Sunday and became an active member – became a man of faith.
On Holy Saturday several years ago, the congregation I was serving had a retreat and Harry Pickens, a world-class jazz pianist from Louisville with a first-class spiritual maturity, told us how several years ago he was commissioned to write a piece of music for a visit by the Dali Lama. Harry said he would sit down at the piano and nothing would come to him. He’d scribble down a few chords, but then X them off, crumple up the score, toss it out, get out a fresh sheet, and start over. So it went for days that led to weeks that ended up being a couple months of no music. Meanwhile, the date of the Dali Lama’s arrival was drawing nearer and Harry had nothing. Until one night, he said a few notes came into his mind that jelled into a chord and then a few bars whereupon he got up, went down to his piano, and began to compose note by note, chord by chord, the melody and accompanying harmonization that finally flowed out of him. Commissioned composition complete.
He says he told somebody that story and they said, “Must be nice to be able to come up with a gorgeous piece of music – snap of the fingers – like that. Would that we all could be so lucky.”
And Harry said, “Whoa. Do you know how many years I’ve been playing the piano? Do you know how long I took lessons, from childhood through adolescence playing my scales when I had absolutely no desire, but my parents insisted. Harry, practice! Coming up with that composition when I needed it wasn’t out of the blue. It was out of years of practicing the scales over and over again to the point that when I needed music and had to reach deep down, it was there.”
You want a faith you can turn to and turn on when you need it? Prepare for then now. Set aside time each day to practice the scales of faith that cultivate reserves of oil that will last for the long haul.
Jesus said, “The kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten young women took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise.”
I had the strangest thing happen this week. I read those words and the parable that followed and shut my Bible. As I did, I swear I heard a chorus of voices within ask, “Got oil?”
Let all who are wise say AMEN.
