Trimming Your Wick

Or, The Ten Virgins and the Rapture: An Evocative Interpretation and Practical Guide to Readiness

Matthew 25:1-13 unfurls the captivating story of the Parable of the Ten Virgins. The narrative strikes an awe-inspiring but troubling chord, crashing our hopeful anticipation smack into the hauntingly profound portrayal of the End Times. The parable sprouts like a night-blooming flower right after Matthew 24's Olivet Discourse, one of the most riveting and intense End Times prophecies in the Bible, rivalled only by the intricate tapestry of Revelation.

The Parable unfolds cloaked in anticipation and suspense. Ten maidens eagerly await the arrival of the bridegroom. It's a night cloaked in mystery and anticipation, a time when promises are to be fulfilled, and destinies unveiled. As the clock ticks onward into the obsidian blanket of the night, uncertainty gnaws at their hearts. Yet, when the bridegroom finally emerges, half of the young women find themselves caught in a dire predicament - their lamps are dry of oil, unusable. Underestimating the bridegroom's arrival under the moon's shadow, they had failed to prepare.

The consequences were heartbreaking. The maidens’ error did not merely cost them the embarrassment of tardy arrival at supper or the maddening inconvenience of locating a late-night lamp oil salesman. Instead, they found themselves banned from the joyous wedding feast, cast away, forsaken. The bridegroom, a clear metaphor for Jesus, not only rejects them — but He completely disowned them.

But while they [the unprepared virgins] 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.

Later the others also came. ‘Lord, Lord,’ they said, ‘open the door for us!’

But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I don’t know you.

Their severe punishment is a chilling reminder of the cost of unpreparedness, a sobering reality that has often haunted my thoughts. The careless virgins were not malevolent or unrighteous; they were merely negligent. In their genuine desire to correct their mistake, they braved the darkness of the night in a desperate search for oil.

But their true crime was their lack of foresight.

How unyielding this pronouncement must have seemed! How stark was the late-dawning reality that not just their tardiness, but their lack of preparation, was found a grave sin. The maidens weren't malevolent or unrighteous; rather, their error lay in their complacency and casual disregard for readiness. They tried.

Their story is a lamentation on missed opportunities and the peril of procrastination.

The Parable was meant for us. Clearly, we are the virgins in the story. I’ve long wondered, what End Times element should we be preparing for with such grave urgency?

I’m going to give away the end. What I’ve been pondering is the nature of the Rapture. There’s an implicit assumption that I’ve begun to question. I tried to find scholarship about it and came up with nothing. As far as I can tell, this is a question of first impression:

Is the Rapture Compulsory?

Rapture theology assumes that all right Christians will be raptured — harpazo in the Greek — automatically. But why? Rapture details are scarce in scripture. We don’t know for sure. But, if the Ten Virgins parable is a Rapture parable, as I am inclined to believe, it suggests that some Christians — unprepared Christians — won’t be going.

Maybe some of us won’t want to go.

In the Parable, the bridegroom came for them, and five prepared virgins went to the wedding supper with him. But five unprepared virgins were not just denied entry, but the bridegroom forgot who they were. If the bridegroom’s arrival is analogous to Jesus’ return to collect Raptured Christians, the parable suggests there’s no late entry. It’s now or never.

If I’m right, if the Ten Virgins parable is a Rapture parable, and if the Rapture isn’t actually automatic, then we’d better pay very close attention.

Why Do I Think the Ten Virgins Parable is a Rapture Parable?

It’s undisputed the virgins were supposed to be watching and waiting for the bridegroom:

For when the foolish ones took their lamps, they did not take olive oil with them. ⁴ But the wise ones took olive oil in flasks with their lamps. ⁵ And when the bridegroom was delayed, they all became drowsy and fell asleep. ⁶ But in the middle of the night there was a shout, ‘Behold, the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’

Matt. 25:3–6 (LEB).

Christians are also told to watch and wait. At least three verses tie this sacred duty to the End Times. Jesus said as much in the aforementioned Olivet Discourse (Matt. 24), which is the most significant End Times passage in the Gospels:

"Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him."

Matt. 24:42-44 (ESV).

Jesus’ admonition appears only six verses before the parable of the Ten Virgins. Here, He’s telling Christians to keep watch, just like the virgins, and be ready, just like the virgins; but only five were ready. Five were left behind.

Next, Luke’s version of the Olivet Discourse offers slightly different context. Pay special attention to the part about what might interfere with being ready, and what is the purpose of His coming:

"Be careful, or your hearts will be weighed down with carousing, drunkenness and the anxieties of life, and that day will close on you suddenly like a trap. For it will come on all those who live on the face of the whole earth. Be always on the watch, and pray that you may be able to escape all that is about to happen, and that you may be able to stand before the Son of Man."

Luke 21:34-36 (ESV).

It’s easy to slip past that first sentence. Let’s assume that you don’t polish off your days with a quart of Raspberry Ripple, and you aren’t dropping ecstasy at all-night rave parties. That rules out carousing and drunkenness. But what about that third one, the anxieties of life? Does that give you a little pause? What’s Jesus talking about? What anxieties? Why would the anxieties of life defeat our ability to escape?

We’ll come back to that one.

Jesus clearly said we should watch — just like the ten virgins were supposed to be watching. In fact, Jesus said we should be always on the watch. Always.

Now consider the last line that I bolded above: “that you may be able to escape all that is about to happen.“ The only reasonable reading of that verse is there’s a way to escape the Tribulation that will come “on the face of the whole earth.” And we won’t just escape some of it. Jesus promises there’s a way to escape all that is about to happen. All. The only known mechanism fitting that description is the Rapture.

This is a Rapture verse.

Finally, the Apostle Paul wrote 1 Thessalonians, considered by Pre-Millennial theologians to be the definitive book about the Rapture. Here’s what Paul said about being ready for it:

For you know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. While people are saying, 'Peace and safety,' destruction will come on them suddenly, as labor pains on a pregnant woman, and they will not escape. But you, brothers and sisters, are not in darkness so that this day should surprise you like a thief. You are all children of the light and children of the day. We do not belong to the night or to the darkness. So then, let us not be like others, who are asleep, but let us be awake and sober.

1 Thess. 5:2-6.

Like the Lord in Paul’s analogy, the bridegroom also came to the ten virgins like a thief in the night. They were literally asleep, but five immediately woke up and were ready. Not partly ready, like the oil-less virgins who were still figuratively sleeping, but still were fully ready to go, even though it was the inky dark of nighttime.

Like Jesus, Paul speaks about avoiding the Tribulation. Paul said destruction would come on “them” suddenly — on the non-Christians — but by implication not on the Christians, not on the children of the light and of the day. The clear implication is that destruction will not suddenly come on Christians. But how?

Immediately before that scripture, in what is considered the definitive Rapture passage in the definitive Rapture book, Paul described the mechanics:

¹⁶ For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a shout of command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. ¹⁷ Then we who are alive, who remain, will be snatched away at the same time together with them in the clouds for a meeting with the Lord in the air, and thus we will be together with the Lord always.

1 Thess. 4:16–17 (LEB).

Post-millennial theologians believe this passage does not describe Christ’s Second Coming — His parousia — since it explicitly says we will meet Jesus in the air. In other words, He’s not coming all the way down, not yet. That happens later.

In other words, Paul first describes the Rapture event in chapter 4, when we will be called to meet Jesus in the air with the dead in Christ. Then Paul immediately emphasizes we should not be caught unprepared — sleeping — like those who don’t even know Jesus is coming, in order to avoid their sudden destruction.

But What Does It Mean to Be Unprepared?

Imagine a quiet afternoon. You arrive home from work to an empty house — the rest of the family is at a middle-school production of Peter Pan. You drop your keys in the dish and head to the bedroom to change, so you can go over to see the play. As you turn the corner, you’re blocked by a sudden, radiant presence. An angel stands before you, an ethereal figure cloaked in divine brilliance, yet possessing an overwhelming sense of familiarity.

"Are you ready?" the angel asks, the words resonating with a gravity that sinks into your heart.

You’re shocked and dumbfounded. A wave of realization washes over you; this is it, this is the call for the Rapture. But as the words settle, your mind starts to race. You think of the kids, the team you lead at work, their livelihoods hinging on your guidance. You think about your wayward sister-in-law, who you’ve been working up the courage to share the Gospel with. You can see your elderly father’s face: he relies on you for care, his daily well-being entrusted to your hands. Who will take care of him if you leave? Your mind flashes to those bank papers you still haven’t signed, the ones that will give your wife easy access to the family finances if anything happens to you.

Unattended affairs and unresolved issues flood your thoughts: the will that remains unwritten, a slew of un-kept promises, responsibilities you can't abandon.

Just as the five unprepared virgins were caught off guard by the arrival of the bridegroom, the suddenness of this divine summoning catches you off balance. The unattended matters of life cause you to falter, even as your faith pulls you towards acceptance. You want to say “yes!”, but you struggle with the weight of the anxieties of life.

Maybe you start to wonder whether it’s a good time to leave. You don’t want to be selfish. You have responsibilities, people to take care of. Maybe you ask the angel if he can come back, say, next Thursday morning. You think you can probably have it all tied up by then.

If the Rapture is automatic, or compulsory, why would Jesus warn us not to become too concerned with the anxieties of life? Why would that matter? Maybe the truth is that Jesus won’t force us to come; He will let it be our choice, a free choice of will just like the original decision to be saved. Or, maybe we can say, “no, I wish I could go, but I just can’t get away right now.”

I know it sounds unreal, but believe me, when that day comes, you don’t want anything interfering with your voluntary choice to go home in the Rapture and escape all that is about to happen, and that you may be able to stand before the Son of Man. No regrets. You won’t want to ask permission to go buy some oil, to witness to that one special person, to sign that will, or to arrange for someone to take care of your Dad when you suddenly disappear.

Being a Spiritual Prepper

Maybe you’re already ready. Maybe you’re a super-organized person who could leave in the next ten minutes, no questions asked, no regrets, no loose ends to tie up. Maybe you think you’ll be so overjoyed at the opportunity that you won’t even think about all the things left undone.

Or maybe, like most of us, there’s still a lot you could do to be even more ready to leave on moment’s notice — without any guilt or any second thoughts.

It’s not wrong to feel guilty about leaving, because it’s not moral or ethical to leave a wretched mess behind by suddenly disappearing from the planet. The Rapture shouldn’t undermine our earthly responsibilities. We need to strike a balance: to be ready for our spiritual journey without neglecting our worldly duties.

Does that seem overwhelming? Do you wonder how we can possibly prepare for this Earth-shattering event, to make sure we're ready to unequivocally and immediately answer Yes!, but also take care of our earthly affairs at the same time?

Are you following me?

Maybe being prepared and ready like the five virgins who brought the oil means consciously and deliberately ordering our lives so that a sudden departure won’t wreak havoc on all the people we’ve left behind, people who are going to have enough problems that they don’t need even more troubles caused by our inattention, our lack of faith that the Rapture could actually come at any time.

Maybe our departure should bless the people we leave behind instead of cursing them.

Put another way, imagine how it would look to the unsaved world if Christians all disappear — having left detailed instructions and having made careful preparations for the departure ahead of time. It will look a lot less like the space aliens took us — which Satan would just love for them to think — instead, it would look a lot more like we walked the walk of faith and we always knew it was coming.

If they see that, see all the careful planning and preparation, a lot more people will be saved than if we all suddenly disappeared leaving utter chaos in our wake.

And guess what? Most or all of this kind of preparation is probably something you should be doing anyway, as a responsible adult, even if the Rapture doesn’t come in our lifetimes.

Practical Steps

Here is a partial list of practical steps that not only serve our watchful readiness for the Rapture, but also align with a well-prepared life. It gives a new meaning to the term, “prepper.”

Show your faith. Walk the walk. Instead of stocking a bunker, prepare your life for imminent departure.

1. Nurture your spiritual life: First of all, build a strong relationship with Jesus Christ, understand His teachings, and strive to live according to His example. Don’t put off witnessing and sharing the Gospel with people close to you. Do it now. Right now. I mean it.

2. Prepare for unexpected life events: Make sure you have contingency plans in place. If other people depend on you, create a support system that can take over if you’re unexpectedly gone.

3. Ensure financial security: Make provisions for your dependents and establish plans for your assets to ensure financial stability. For example, make sure all your bank accounts have POD (pay on death) designations.

4. Legal Preparedness: Draft important legal documents like wills and power of attorney documents. Keep them up to date, and let your loved ones know where they can find them. Obviously, consider how your sudden disappearance would impact things, even if there’s no body. Think about what kinds of charities might be important during the Tribulation, and provide for them.

5. Communication: Have open and ongoing conversations with your family and your loved ones about your wishes and plans if something suddenly happens to you. They might think you’re crazy, but they already think that. And they’ll sure remember it later when the Christians disappear, won’t they?

6. Healthcare Provisions: Make arrangements for any dependents with health care needs, including a care plan, a “plan B,” and talking it over with everyone involved. This is just being responsible, after all, it’s really not much different than what you’d need if you fell under a subway car during tomorrow’s commute.

In the end, the timing of the bridegroom – or the Rapture – remains unknown. And my interpretation could be wrong. Yet, by being prepared to be ready to leave, we face the future with assurance, hope, and confidence to meet any challenge. And as we plan and prepare, may we be found as the wise virgins, ready and eager to join the feast, answering the call of our Savior with a confident and joyous "Yes!".

Let me know what you think in the comments, along with suggestions for ways to prepare that I haven’t thought about.

If this blessed and moved you, share it with others. The more of us who are prepared, the better.