Sometimes we wonder how well our children are listening when they are being taught. I often tell my children to look at me when I teach, to sit still, and stop fidgeting with this or that. I really do try to keep their attention. I often wonder how much is sticking in their minds.
This past Sunday our church had one service in the morning. We didn't know if there would be a class for the kids since the normal schedule was slightly modified. We usually ask the kids about their classses, what they learned and how things went. The more we ask, the better they are getting at remembering! We even ask little Manny how it went in the nursery. :) Since Amera is older, she'll often share more than the others. Sometimes we get very basic answers from our younger kids, but it's usually a good springboard for discussion over lunch.
After lunch this past Sunday, I hadn't even gotten around to asking yet when my son (Javi) begins to share with me what he learned in his class. With animated expression and enthusiasm he told me about the ten "girls". Five of them were wise and five of them were foolish. He just about told me the whole parable, ending very sadly with the door being shut to the marriage feast and the bridegroom saying "I do not know you." (Mouse over this to read the full account: Matthew 25: 1-13)
As he was speaking, I was amazed at how he recounted every detail. I don't think we have ever taught him this parable before, though maybe he has heard it in Sunday School. I also realized how unfamiliar I am with it. I mean, I've read it, but I've never really thought about what it means.
Soon my husband, who had been listening from his seat in the dining room, came into the living room to join us. Here's a perfect example of our spouse filling in where we lack. I doubt I would have been able to explain this very well, but I sat in rapt attention as my husband shared the gospel with our son.
I've been studying the passage ever since. I wish I could quote my husband's words from that afternoon, but a commentary from C.H. Makintosh (my first time reading from him, anyone ever heard of him before?) that I found online runs along a similar vein.
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"The parable of the ten virgins teaches, beyond all question, that when the Bridegroom comes, there will be foolish virgins on the scene, and clearly, if there are foolish virgins, all cannot have been previously converted. A child can understand this. We cannot see how it is possible, in the face of even this one parable, to maintain the theory of a world converted before the coming of the Bridegroom.
But let us look a little closely at these foolish virgins. Their history is full of admonition for all Christian professors. It is very brief, but awfully comprehensive. "They that were foolish took their lamps, and took no oil with them." There is the outward profession, but no inward reality-no spiritual life-no unction-no vital link with the source of eternal life-no union with Christ. There is nothing but the lamp of profession, and the dry wick of a nominal notional, head belief.
This is peculiarly solemn. It bears down with tremendous weight upon the vast mass of baptized profession which surrounds us, at the present moment, in which there is so much of outward semblance, but so little of inward reality. All profess to be Christians. The lamp of profession may be seen in every hand; but ah, how few have the oil in their vessels, the spirit of life in Christ Jesus, who have the Holy Ghost dwelling in their hearts. Without this, all is utterly worthless and vain. There may be the very highest profession; there may be a most orthodox creed; one may be baptized; he may receive the Lord's supper; be a regularly enrolled and duly recognized member of a Christian community, be a Sunday-school teacher; an ordained minister of religion; one may be all of this, and not have one spark of divine life, not one ray of heavenly light, not one link with the Christ of God.
Now there is something peculiarly awful in the thought of having just enough religion to deceive the heart, deaden the conscience and ruin the soul-just enough religion to give a name to live while dead-enough to leave one without Christ, without God, and without hope in the world-enough to prop the soul up with a false confidence, and fill it with a false peace, until the Bridegroom come, and then the eyes are opened when it is too late.
This it is with the foolish virgins. They seem to be very like the wise ones. An ordinary observer might not be able to see any difference, for the time being. They all set out together. All have lamps. And, moreover, all turn aside to slumber and sleep, and the wise as well as the foolish. All rouse up at the midnight cry, and trim their lamps. Thus far there is no apparent difference. The foolish virgins light their lamps-the lamp of profession lighted up with the dry wick of a lifeless, notional, nominal faith; alas! A worthless-worse than worthless-thing, a fatal soul-destroying delusion.
Here is the grand distinction-the broad line of demarcation-comes out with awful, yea, with appalling clearness. "The foolish said unto the wise, Give us of your oil; for our lamps are going out." This proves that their lamps had been lighted, for if they had not been lighted, they could not go out. But it was only a false, flickering, transient light. It was not fed from a divine source. It was the light of mere lip profession, fed by the head of belief, lasting just long enough to deceive themselves and others, and going out at the very moment when they most needed it, leaving them in the dreadful darkness of eternal night.
"Our lamps are going out." Terrible discovery! "The Bridegroom is at hand, and our lamps are going out. Our hollow profession is being made manifest by the light of His coming. We thought we were all right. We professed the same faith, had the same shaped lamp, the same kind of wick, but alas! We now find to our unspeakable horror, that we have been deceiving ourselves, that we lack the one thing needful, the spirit of life in Christ, the unction from the Holy One, the living link with the Bridegroom. Whatever shall we do? O ye wise virgins, take pity upon us, and share with us your oil. Do, do, for mercy's sake, give us a little, even one drop of that all-essential thing, that we may not perish forever."
It is all utterly vain. No one can give of his oil to another. Each has just enough for himself. A man can give light, but he cannot give oil. The latter is the gift of God alone. "The wise answered, saying, Not so; lest there be not enough for us and you, but go ye rather to them that sell and buy for yourselves. And while they went to buy, the Bridegroom came and they that were ready went in with him to the marriage; and the door was shut." It is of no use looking to Christian friends to help us or prop us up. No use in flying hither and thither for some one to lean upon-some holy man, or some eminent teacher-no use building upon our church, our creed, or our sacraments. We want oil. We cannot do without it. Where are we to get it? Not from man, not from the church, not from the saints, not from the fathers. We must get it from God; and He, blessed be His name, gives freely. "The Gift of God is eternal life, through Jesus Christ our Lord."
But, mark, it is an individual thing. Each must have it for himself. No man can believe, or get life for another. Each must have to do with God for himself. The link which connects the soul with Christ is intensely individual. There is no such thing as second-hand faith. A man may teach us religion, or theology, or the letter of Scripture; but he cannot give us oil; he cannot give us faith; he cannot give us life. "It is the gift of God." Precious little word, "gift." It is like God. It is free as God's air; free as His sunlight; free as His refreshing dew-drops. But, we repeat, and with solemn emphasis, each one must get it for himself. "None can by any means redeem his brother, nor give to God a ransom for him, that he should still live forever and not see corruption. For the redemption of their soul is precious, and it ceaseth forever". (Psalm 49:7-9)
What sayest thou to these solemn realities? Art thou a wise or foolish virgin? Hast thou gotten life in a risen and glorified Saviour? Art thou a mere professor of religion, content with the mere ordinary dead routine of church-going, having just sufficient religion to make thee respectable on earth, but not enough to link thee with Heaven?
We earnestly beseech thee to think seriously of these things. Think of them now. Think how unspeakably dreadful it will be to find thy lamp of profession going out and leaving thee in obscure darkness-darkness of an everlasting night. How terrible to find the door shut behind that brilliant train which shall go in to the marriage; but shut in thy face! How agonizing the cry, "Lord, Lord, open unto us!" How withering, how crushing the response, "I know you not."
Oh do give these weighty matters a place in thy heart now, while yet the door is open, and while yet the day of grace is lengthened out in God's marvellous long suffering. The moment is rapidly approaching in which the door of mercy shall be closed against thee forever, when all hope shall be gone, and thy precious soul be plunged into black and eternal despair. May God's spirit rouse thee from thy fatal slumber, and give thee no rest until thou findest it in the finished work of the Lord Jesus Christ, and at His blessed feet in adoration and worship."
Interesting commentary
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