Act I – Waiting for the Bridegroom
You ever been to a wedding where the groom was late?
People shifting in their seats, the music looping for the third time, photographers glancing at their watches. Aunt Martha whispers, “Maybe he changed his mind.”
I was once at a wedding like that. The bride was radiant, the bridesmaids sparkling — and then… silence. Five minutes… ten… twenty. The air grew heavy with nervous laughter. Finally someone muttered, “This isn’t smart. Who keeps a bride waiting?”
And that’s when Jesus steps into the story. He tells of another wedding — a heavenly one.
> “Then the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom.”
Ten young women, all invited. Ten lamps, all burning. One purpose — welcome the groom when he comes.
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Act II – The Wedding Everyone Expected
In those days a wedding wasn’t an afternoon ceremony at a chapel; it was a procession.
The groom would come to fetch his bride at night, and the bridesmaids’ job was simple: keep the lamps burning.
So they waited. They laughed. They talked about dresses and dreams. And hours slipped by.
The oil in their lamps burned lower.
The groom tarried.
Every generation since has replayed that scene.
The world waiting for a promise. The church waiting for a Savior.
And somewhere along the way — we get tired.
Jesus said, “They all slumbered and slept.” Even the wise ones nodded off.
Waiting is hard. Revival tarries. We grow comfortable. The flame grows small.
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Act III – Lamps That Look Alike
Here’s the shocker: all ten looked alike.
They all had invitations.
They all had lamps.
They all believed the groom was coming.
They all called themselves bridesmaids.
But half were missing one thing — the oil.
Outwardly, there was no difference. If you’d walked by that night, you couldn’t have told who was wise and who was foolish.
But Jesus isn’t fooled by outward similarity.
He knows which lamps hold fire.
You can attend church, sing the songs, quote Scripture — and still run on fumes.
You can post Bible verses and yet have no inner flame.
The foolish virgins teach us that appearance without substance is the religion of the last days.
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Act IV – The Oil Question
And here’s where people always lean forward and whisper, “So what exactly is the oil?”
Through Scripture, oil represents the Holy Spirit’s living presence.
It’s the inner life of God poured into the believer — love, faith, endurance, compassion, power.
Five of the women had made room for that daily supply.
They’d tended the wick of prayer, refilled the flask of devotion, kept the flame of obedience alive.
The others depended on borrowed light.
That wasn’t smart.
You can borrow sermons, borrow music, borrow someone’s enthusiasm — but you cannot borrow the Holy Spirit.
There are no spiritual wholesalers where you can fill a fifty-gallon drum for emergencies.
When the crisis comes, character can’t be purchased.
Revival can’t be downloaded.
Faith can’t be transferred.
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Act V – The Midnight Cry
Then suddenly — a shout in the dark!
> “Behold! The bridegroom is coming! Go out to meet him!”
Every lamp is grabbed. Sparks fly. The wise trim their wicks, flames leap high.
The foolish gasp, “Our lamps are going out!”
They look for oil now — but the moment demands what must already exist.
Every revival in history begins with a midnight cry.
God wakes His church: Wake up, sleepers! The Bridegroom is near!
It’s the Spirit shaking dry bones.
It’s conviction flooding tired hearts.
It’s believers realizing that going through motions without oil is a dangerous game.
When heaven shouts and the trumpet sounds, you won’t have time to run to the store.
This is the hour to fill your flask.
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Act VI – That Wasn’t Smart
The foolish virgins sprinted into the night searching for oil.
And while they were gone — while they were almost ready —
> “The bridegroom came, and those who were ready went in with him to the wedding feast, and the door was shut.”
Later they knocked, crying, “Lord, Lord, open to us!”
But he answered, “Truly I say to you, I do not know you.”
Imagine standing outside a celebration you were invited to.
Your name was on the guest list. The music still echoes inside.
And realizing you missed it not because you weren’t invited,
not because you weren’t interested,
but because you weren’t prepared.
That wasn’t smart.
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Act VII – Closed Door Moments
We know those moments even now.
The opportunity to reconcile — but pride delays.
The call to serve — but convenience wins.
The tug to surrender — but distractions drown it out.
Doors close quietly — relationships, seasons, spiritual windows.
The tragedy is not that God slams them; it’s that we wander away while they’re still open.
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Act VIII – Watch and Be Filled
So what does it mean to watch?
Watching isn’t anxious sky-gazing.
It’s abiding — keeping the flame alive through daily communion with Jesus.
It’s the rhythm of prayer, Scripture, kindness, witness.
Every act of love refills the flask.
When you forgive the unforgivable — you pour oil.
When you praise in the storm — you pour oil.
When you resist temptation — you pour oil.
When you love your neighbor — you pour oil.
Watching is not passive; it’s active faith that keeps the light burning.
And notice — the wise had enough oil, not because they were smarter, but because they cared enough to prepare.
They valued the groom more than their sleep.
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Act IX – Revival Fire
This parable isn’t meant to crush hope; it’s meant to ignite it.
It’s Jesus saying, “Wake up, church! The night may be dark, but the Bridegroom is near!”
He’s not looking for perfect people; He’s looking for burning ones.
He’s not asking for full barrels; He’s asking for open flasks.
He’s not impressed by polished lamps; He wants living light.
The smartest thing you’ll ever do is surrender afresh to the Spirit and let Him keep your flame alive.
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Act X – Bridge: “This Little Light of Mine” Moment
You know, sometimes the deepest theology is sung in the simplest songs.
When Jesus told the story of the ten virgins, He didn’t say they didn’t have lamps — He said they didn’t keep them burning.
That’s the whole message in a child’s melody we’ve known for years.
> This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine,
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.
That’s what the wise virgins did.
They guarded the flame. They kept oil in reserve.
They didn’t wait for the shout to start shining — they were shining while they waited.
But the foolish ones? They assumed yesterday’s flame would still burn today.
That wasn’t smart.
And right now — as this melody still lingers — I want to ask you:
Is your light still burning?
Do you still feel the warmth of God’s Spirit in your lamp, or has the oil run low?
Because this isn’t a song about children.
It’s about a church that refuses to let the darkness win.
> Let it shine till Jesus comes, I’m gonna let it shine…
That’s what it means to watch.
That’s what it means to be ready.
That’s what it means to be wise.
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Act XI – The Appeal
Friend, maybe your lamp has flickered. Maybe the wick is smoky, the oil nearly gone.
Maybe you’ve been busy, distracted, hurt, or dry.
But the Bridegroom hasn’t forgotten you.
He’s still coming — and He still wants your light to shine.
This is not condemnation — it’s invitation.
Come tonight, come now, and let Him refill your lamp.
Don’t settle for borrowed oil.
Don’t wait for another midnight cry.
The Spirit of God is ready to pour fresh grace into your heart.
If you long for that refilling, if you want your lamp to burn bright again, come.
Kneel. Lift your hands. Whisper your yes.
And as you do, hear heaven’s whisper:
“You are mine. You’re invited. And this time — you’ll be ready.”
Don’t just look ready. Be ready.
That’s smart.
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Act XII – WACHET AUF (Benediction Coda)
(music begins softly — organ or recorded chorale, BWV 140)
> “More than four centuries ago, while a plague swept through Germany, Pastor Philipp Nicolai wrote:
‘Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme der Wächter sehr hoch auf der Zinne…’
— ‘Wake, awake, the voice is calling us — the watchmen cry from the towers.’
In the darkest of nights, he called the living to lift their lamps.
Two centuries later, J. S. Bach gave that melody to the world, a song of hope from the heart of waiting believers.
That’s our song tonight.
The midnight cry still echoes: Wake up, Church. Trim your lamp. The Bridegroom is near.
Let your light shine till Jesus comes — until the last note fades into glory.”
(music swells and fades)
