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Learning for Life: Cultivating a Student Spirituality
Week 13
Mark Roeda, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor Campus Chapel
Advent: Patience & Waiting
13.1 Jesus Likes to Party
“Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom.” Matthew 25:1
Here as elsewhere, when Jesus wants us to get a handle on what life will look like when the kingdom of God hits, he asks us to imagine a big party—an image familiar to most college campuses.
Obviously there are differences between, say, a fraternity kegger and the kingdom. For one, the cops are unlikely to bust up the kingdom at 2 am. On the other hand, college parties and the kingdom both tap into a similar longing. We all long for settings in which we can check shame and insecurity at the door and simply celebrate being together, being alive.
A typical college party supplies alcohol to generate this kind of experience. It “loosens” people up. But let’s be honest: alcohol does not really remove shame and insecurity. At best, it suppresses it for a while. In the morning, it is back—often with more added.
In the kingdom of God, the means is forgiveness. This differs from alcohol in that when party-goers drink deep from the keg of grace, shame and insecurity are not merely suppressed; they are removed. Forever. We are completely free to celebrate being together with our glorious Host, to celebrate being alive to all that is good. (As a result, when the kingdom comes, don’t be surprised when people approach you saying, “Dude, I am sooo forgiven right now.”)
Having said all that, it should be noted that our parable has little to say about the party itself. It is more about the absence of this party. It is about waiting. And waiting.
Advent is a season of waiting. It is a time for committing ourselves to seeking nothing less than what God offers, refusing cheap substitutes—even if that means spending a lot of time simply standing in the dark.
Prayer:
Lord, Jesus, come quickly.
13.2 An Impolite Reverence
3 When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; 4 but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. 5 As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept. Matthew 25: 3-5
As we said yesterday, this parable is less about the kingdom than it is about its absence. It’s about waiting. In this, Jesus is simply picking up an emphasis that runs throughout the Scriptures. Again and again, we are called to “Wait for the Lord,” to put our hope in God’s promises and refuse cheap alternatives to the good found in God.
That the ancient voices of Scripture should emphasize waiting should trouble us a bit. After all, we occupy a world that demands things instantly, conveniently, overnight. The ancients occupied a world in which the only thing that came overnight was, well, morning. Nearly everything else involved waiting. And, yet, in spite of this, even they found that God tried their patience at times.
As evidence of this, take all those psalms of lament—the most frequently occurring category of psalm. The question that echoes through them is this: “How long, O Lord? How long?”
Many of us have been raised not to question God, and so the psalmists’ blunt questions may make us uneasy. We prefer prayer be more positive, more polite. But, given that we live a world of instant gratification, maybe we are able to maintain proper decorum with God because we don’t expect much from him. We have settled for cheap alternatives—alcohol instead of grace, porn instead of love, a bunch of presents instead of Christmas.
Cheap alternatives are so tempting because, in this world, the real things require waiting through some pretty long, dark nights.
A refusal to seek nothing less than real love, real justice, real celebration may cause us to get a little impolite with God now and again. We may find ourselves crying, “How long, O Lord? How long?”
And suddenly we’ll realize that God matters.
Prayer:
O Lord, replace my contentment with cheap substitutes with a longing for your goodness.
13.3 Determined to Burn
3 When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; 4 but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. 5 As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept. Matthew 25: 3-5
What exactly does the oil refer to? An understanding of the gospel? Obedience to God’s will? The Holy Spirit? Jesus chooses not to say. Apparently he prefers to keep it open-ended. Maybe what keeps our lamps lit is simply this: whatever keeps our lamps lit. In other words, whatever keeps our hearts burning for the kingdom constitutes oil.
Advent should be a season in which we build up our oil reserves. It should be a time in which we nurture a sense of anticipation and longing for the coming of Christ. Too often this is a time of year that leaves us drained. We run around to various study groups, cram for exams, meet with advisors and professors, churn out a few papers, attend a few holiday gatherings, and, if there is time, do a little shopping. By the time Christmas arrives, our lamps barely flicker.
The fact that you are reading this suggests that, even in the midst of the busyness, you are at least making some effort to fuel your lamp. That is great.
Here’s something else you might consider doing: make space for silence. Carve out time and space where you can do nothing but breath deeply and declare yourself open to the coming of God. Try it for five minutes or an hour. It is up to you.
Maybe you will encounter God. Maybe you won’t. Maybe you will just learn to be willing to wait for the Lord in the midst of his absence.
That willingness is oil.
Prayer:
O Lord, remove distractions and give me silence so that I might wait for you.
13.4 The Wisdom of Humility
8 The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ 9 But the wise replied, ‘No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.’ Matthew 25: 8-9
If asked to list some qualities that generate high fives from Jesus, “sharing with those in need” would rank near the top. Yet, in this parable, with their lamps beginning to dim, five bridesmaids beg the others for oil and are told, “Sorry. Better go shopping.”
Ouch.
What is Jesus, infinite source of self-giving, saying?
For one thing, this: humans have limits. What separates the wise from the foolish bridesmaids is not that their lamps burn indefinitely.
Jesus wants to alert us to this. In fact, in Matthew’s rendering of the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus instructs us to pray, “Do not bring us into the time of trial.” “The time of trial” refers to something specific—not merely “tough times.” It refers to circumstances which push us beyond our capacity to remain faithful. For the fatigued disciples, the Garden of Gethsemane is a “time of trial” (Lk 22: 40, 46). Jesus wants us to suffer no delusions: Apart from the grace of God, the world is capable of crushing the faith of any of us.
Jesus is not providing excuses for our sin and selfishness; he provides forgiveness—an entirely different thing—for that. He simply wants us to be realistic or “wise.”
Such wisdom motivates us, for example, to live healthy, balanced lives. Depriving themselves of such things as rest, healthy food, exercise, or human connection makes us vulnerable. To the wise, this is oil.
At the same time, even the wise will find themselves forced to endure nights longer and darker than expected. Rest, food, and the like are in short supply. The wise rely on prayer. Take, for example, that night in the garden. Though the disciples flee, prayer enabled a fatigued Jesus to endure.
Prayer:
In the busyness of this season, we pray: bring us not into the time of trial.
13.5 Serving not Saving
8 The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ 9 But the wise replied, ‘No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.’ Matthew 25: 8-9
A student once asked me for advice regarding his girlfriend. She was depressed, even talked about suicide. During their extended nightly conversations, she would tell him that he was her only reason for living. I asked whether she was seeing a therapist. “She can’t stand therapists,” he said.
I tried to convince him that was not exactly true. She obviously liked having him as her therapist. The problem, I reminded him, was that he was majoring in botany. He liked his girlfriend, maybe even loved her, but beyond that he had little interest in psychology.
“It may feel unloving—to you and to her—to say that she has to find someone more qualified to talk to,” I said, “but it isn’t. I love my wife, but the next time her car has trouble the loving thing would not be for me to try to fix it. The loving thing would be give her the number to a good mechanic.”
The wise virgins are not being unloving. They are simply recognizing their limits. Splitting their supply of oil simply risks turning five unlit lamps into ten.
There is a difference between serving one another and saving one another. We are called to do the first, not the second. It feels good when people want us to try to do the latter—for a while. Eventually everyone burns out.
Remember: there is a reason Advent precedes Christmas instead of your birthday.
Prayer:
O Lord, help us to reflect rather than try to replace Jesus. Amen.
13.6 Playing the Numbers
8 The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ 9 But the wise replied, ‘No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.’ Matthew 25: 8-9
There is a church up the road from us that draws about 600 students on a given Sunday—about as many as all the other Protestant congregations combined. It is impressive.
Except when you consider that enrollment here tops 30,000.
There is a clipping on my office bulletin board from USA Today. A freshmen class was polled as to whether they attended church regularly. 52% said they did. The same question was asked two years later when they were juniors. 29% said they did.
So, if you are reading this chances, chances are you’re a freshman. According to the numbers, over the course of the next couple of years there is a good chance you’ll get out the habit of doing this type of reading and that you will get in the habit of sleeping in or studying on Sunday mornings. Maybe you will start drinking on a regular basis and sleeping around a little. No doubt you will be surprised how naturally it happens. There won’t be any particular crisis of faith, no nagging doubts about, say, the resurrection. You probably won’t seek someone out to talk about the fact that you feel your faith slipping away—that would imply that you still care. And the real issue is you’ve become indifferent. The oil has simply run out.
I suspect that 100% of you reading this assume that won’t be you. A little over 60% of you may be right.
Prayer:
Lord God, keep me burning.
13.7 Fear and Its Limits
13 Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour. Matthew 25: 13
Just before this parable, Jesus describes a servant who sees his master’s absence as an opportunity to cut loose—beating on slaves and getting tanked with drinking buddies. Unfortunately for him, the master busts in while the servant’s empties are still scattered on the floor and his fellow slaves are still nursing wounds.
Jesus follows this story with the tale of the ten bridesmaids. In both stories and in chapters twenty-four and five as a whole, Jesus’ point is this: you don’t know when the end will come. The wicked servant reminds us that it could be Monday. The bridesmaids that it could be 6,442 years from now.
There are those television shows in which connect current events with biblical prophesy. They can have you convinced that the end may come before the credits roll. That certainly might help us to stay faithful until, say, next Monday or into next year.
Enduring for the long haul, however, requires we move beyond fear of indulging your heart’s desires. It requires having a heart whose desires have changed. This does not happen over night. But, over time, pursuing glimpses of the kingdom in prayer and worship, in meaningful relationships and work will nurture within us an affection for what is beautiful, just and good. In other words, it is a process whereby the affections of our hearts beat in time with the affections of God’s own heart.
Fear may keep us from doing our worst in the short term, but holy affections enable us pursue the best for the long haul.
Prayer:
O Lord, whether it comes in glory tomorrow or in ten thousand years, deepen my love and longing for the kingdom.
Copyright © CRCMA 2008
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