Fuel

Matthew 25:1-13

Last month, we celebrated two weddings here at Trinity, and both of them started late.

The guests were assembled (most of them, anyway) at the appointed time, waiting with eager anticipation for that special moment when the two people whose lives are being joined and transformed would meet in a big and formal procession, and at the appointed time, well, one or more of the principals was missing.

It’s not unheard of for weddings to start a little late these days. And while there were certainly no dawdling photographers or limo drivers with bad GPS in first-century Israel, it probably wasn’t unheard of for weddings to start a bit late in Jesus’ day either.

And – two thousand years ago or last month – when the bridal procession runs late, the eager expectation starts to give way to some mixture of anxiety and humor, patience and impatience, wonder and indifference and boredom. Just the same way all that happened to the disciples, to the church, when the kingdom of God didn’t show up at the appointed time (or the next appointed time, or the next one) and Jesus didn’t come back when we thought he would.

Waiting can be fun when you know when it will be over – the eager, busy build up to Christmas morning, or the first day of vacation, the birth of the first grandchild – but waiting for hours after the doctor was supposed to call or the wedding start, weeks after the baby was supposed to be born or the job offer made, waiting centuries after God was supposed to return and transform the world for the better…. well, that waiting makes many of us cranky, uncomfortable, hopeless – or makes us quit.

Unless we’re well supplied with fuel.

Did you notice that that’s the only difference between the two sets of bridal attendants in Jesus’ story? They all got asked to participate; they all got dressed up, I assume; all lit their lamps when they were supposed to; all fell asleep when the bridegroom was delayed for hours. The difference between the bridesmaids who actually get to welcome the groom and participate in the party and the ones who get shut out – the only difference – is fuel.

So that’s probably the point of the metaphor Jesus is working with today.

God knows the wait for the kingdom of God – the wait for the transformation of the world into God’s vision of generous justice, abundant resources, undisturbable peace, and infinite joy – is going to be unbearably long.

God knows we’re going to get tired of waiting.

Tired of waiting for a world where people don’t just die in a hail of bullets for no reason at all. Tired of waiting for God to unite people, instead of letting us divide into every possible version of “us” and “them”. Tired of the endless parade of hunger and loss and disease and poverty and prejudice that constantly bubble up in our common life, no matter how much generosity and good intention and personal relationship you pour out or see around you.

God knows you’re going to get tired. And God also knows God’s going to need us to be ready: to be lit, and energetic, and ready for anything when the time we’re waiting for finally arrives. So Jesus is reminding us that we need fuel.  Not just for the waiting, but for the celebration to follow.

We need fuel to keep the light of God burning inside of us while we wait – and after God appears. We need fuel to make us full of energy and hope and eagerness to act – in the waiting, and when the time comes for us to shine the spotlight onto God’s fulfilled promises. We need fuel for patience and for abundant joy; fuel for our hearts, in all those ways.

So, what’s your fuel?
What is it, in your life, that you use to keep your heart ready for unimaginable joy?
What do you do, or remember, or pray, to keep your soul nourished and growing?
What feeds your love, so that there’s always room for God to drop a family or a nation or a world of people into that love?

One of the ways I feed my heart and soul – one of the sources of fuel I draw on to be sure I’m ready for God to erupt in my life – is to spend a little time in our preschool.  I find reasons to come to chapel, and slip into a seat at the back of the Christmas program, the “Steppin’ Up” celebrations, or a Valentines Day concert. I seize the opportunity to guide a lost delivery person or new grandma from the church offices to the preschool office – so that I can hear what they just learned about the letter F, or just soak up a little of the atmosphere.

Because the atmosphere in our preschool is at least a little like the kingdom of God. Sharing is a big deal. There’s a constant sense of wonder and discovery. The differences of language and background that seem so obvious and divisive outside these walls disappear fast within them.

Love and generosity abound.

And that’s my fuel.

That’s what keeps me ready for the kingdom of God, where sharing and generosity and wonder break out all over without warning, and where – just like the preschool – you have to be ready to move very fast to keep up. (Right, teachers and parents?) That keeps my heart growing, and ready to love and rejoice, and feeds my soul when I feel stretched thin and dry.

It’s not the only thing. Prayer – time spent listening to God, and offering up my needs and hopes – also fuels me. So do deep, trusting relationships with family and friends.

There are all kinds of ways to find your fuel, even if you don’t work next door to Trinity Preschool. There’s the refreshing, energizing, beauty of nature: fall colors, fresh snow, ocean waves, the cycling miracle of life in your garden. Time – intentional, listening, peaceful time – with friends and colleagues fuels trust, and deepens your well of resources and resilience.

There are practices of deep prayer, and scriptural meditation, like the ones our Centering Prayer group offers. You can nurture your soul’s capacity for wonder and possibility by keeping up with scientific discovery, or immersing yourself in making or appreciating art and music. There are wells of love and commitment in soup kitchens, school volunteers, civic boards, family dinner tables, and some sports leagues. You can practice long-term faithful expectation – and the gracious receiving of unearned joy – as a fan of certain professional sports teams. Stretching and strengthening your body helps some of us do the same for our spirits. Laughter – genuine, spontaneous, generous laughter – fuels resilience and joy.

You need that fuel.

I need that fuel.

And you can’t use someone else’s, so we are called by God to fill ourselves up with it. To plan and carry reserves of that fuel, more than we can imagine we will need, because when the waiting is finally over, when the bridal procession or the kingdom of God arrives in full glory long after we should have given up on it, it’s our job to light it up, to shine so bright and long and clearly that no one can miss the celebration.

So fuel up.

God is already – still! – on the way.