There is something about the words "be prepared" that triggers an almost instinctive response. For some, it conjures memories of Scout meetings and the mild anxiety of wondering whether you had actually done what you were supposed to do. For others, it brings to mind the recent wave of government advice about emergency kits, wind-up radios, and stockpiling essentials. In fact, if the last few weeks have felt a little surreal, it might be because many of us have found ourselves standing in a garage surrounded by tinned goods, torches, and an inexplicable quantity of toilet rolls, wondering how we got here.
But here is the thing. The advice to be prepared is not new. It is not a product of geopolitical anxiety or modern uncertainty. It is, in fact, one of the oldest and most consistent pieces of wisdom ever given. And at the heart of one of Jesus' most striking parables, it sits at the very centre of what it means to live a life of faith.
The Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids
In Matthew 25, Jesus tells the story of ten bridesmaids waiting for a bridegroom to arrive. To understand the scene, it helps to know a little about the wedding customs of the time. In many Middle Eastern cultures, weddings were not the mid-afternoon affairs we are familiar with in the West. Celebrations would extend into the evening, and it was customary for the groom's family to arrive at the bride's family home as the night drew on. The bridesmaids would be waiting, lamps in hand, ready to welcome the procession and join the celebration.
All ten of them knew this was going to happen. It was not a surprise. It was not an unexpected turn of events. The bridegroom's arrival was the entire point of the evening. And yet, when he finally came, five of the bridesmaids were ready and five were not.
What separated the wise from the foolish was not intelligence. It was not some flash of brilliance or a moment of inspired thinking. The wise bridesmaids were simply those who had heard what was coming and made sure they were ready for it. They had brought enough oil. They had taken the task seriously. And when the moment arrived, they were able to walk into the celebration.
The foolish bridesmaids had made a kind of effort. They had their lamps. They had shown up. But somewhere along the way, the preparation had felt like too much trouble. Life had got busy. The moment had not seemed quite as urgent as it perhaps should have. And so when the bridegroom arrived, they found themselves scrambling, turning to the others and asking to share what they had not bothered to gather for themselves.
The parable ends with a line that carries enormous weight. Matthew 25:13 urges watchfulness, because the day and the hour of the bridegroom's return are unknown. We know he is coming. We just do not know when.
More Than Beans and Torches
It would be easy to read this parable as a kind of spiritual version of the emergency preparedness advice that has been circulating lately. Stock up. Be ready. Have what you need before the moment arrives. And while there is something to that, the parable is pointing at something far deeper than practical readiness.
This is not a story about lamps and oil in any literal sense. It is a story about the preparation of the heart. Jesus, described throughout scripture as the bridegroom, is coming back. That is not a metaphor. That is not a vague spiritual idea to be filed away and thought about occasionally. It is a truth that is meant to shape the way we live every single day.
So the real question the parable asks is this: what does it look like to be prepared for the return of Christ?
The Quiet Drift Away From Readiness
One of the most uncomfortable things about this parable is how recognisable the foolish bridesmaids are. They did not set out to be unprepared. They were not deliberately careless or dismissive. They simply allowed the busyness of life to crowd out the thing that mattered most.
That pattern is painfully familiar. There are weeks when prayer feels like one more thing on an already impossible list. There are mornings when the Bible sits unopened because the day starts too early and ends too late. There are Sundays when church feels optional, when the intention to go is quietly replaced by the intention to go next week instead.
None of these decisions feel dramatic in the moment. But taken together, they represent a slow drift away from readiness. They are the spiritual equivalent of thinking, I know there is a storm coming, but I will sort out the torch batteries later.
Prepared Together
There is something else worth noticing in the parable. The bridesmaids are not waiting alone. They are a group. And as Matthew 25 continues, the imagery consistently involves communities of people, not isolated individuals. Preparation for the coming of Christ is not a solitary endeavour.
This is a call to community. It is a call to gather together, to worship together, to pray together, and to hold one another accountable to the life of faith. The kingdom of God is not built by individuals retreating into their own private spiritual bunkers. It is built by people who recognise that they need one another to stay ready, to stay awake, and to keep their lamps burning.
The Question That Remains
The parable does not leave us with a comfortable conclusion. It leaves us with a question. When Christ returns, and he will, what will we have been doing instead of getting ready?
That question is not meant to produce fear. It is meant to produce urgency. It is an invitation to take seriously the extraordinary privilege of knowing what is coming and having the time to prepare.
The bridegroom is on his way. The only question worth sitting with this week is a simple one.
Are you prepared?