Matthew 25:6

This verse is from one of Jesus's most famous parables — the story of ten young women waiting for a bridegroom to arrive at a wedding celebration. In ancient Jewish culture, wedding feasts could be long, multi-day events, and guests were expected to be ready whenever the bridegroom appeared, even at an unexpected hour. Five of the women had brought enough oil to keep their lamps burning through the wait; five had not. The bridegroom arrives at midnight — the most unexpected moment — and only those who were prepared were welcomed into the feast. Jesus told this story to describe what it means to stay truly ready for his own return.

God, I do not want to be caught off guard — not out of fear, but because I love you and I want to be present when you move. Help me tend my inner life in the ordinary moments, so that when midnight comes, I am ready. Amen.

Midnight. Not late afternoon when you are still alert. Not 9 PM when you are winding down with some sense of the day's end. Midnight — the hour when your guard is lowest, your eyes are heaviest, and nothing feels urgent. Jesus chose that hour deliberately. He was not describing a life of anxious, white-knuckled vigilance. He was describing the moment when it costs the most to be ready — when preparation done long before midnight is the only thing that matters. The five women who missed the feast were not wicked or hostile. They were simply unprepared — they had not done the slow, unglamorous work of keeping their lamps full. What does it look like for you to tend your lamp? Not the dramatic spiritual highs, but the ordinary, forgettable days — praying when nothing feels urgent, staying connected to God on a routine Wednesday, keeping your heart soft when life is comfortable and distraction is easy. The cry rings out at midnight. What you have quietly cultivated in the ordinary will be what you have when it matters most.