'They Took No Oil with Them'

Why the Foolish Virgins Ran Dry When the Bridegroom Came

In my previous essay on Revelation 6, I argued that the cryptic command — “do not harm the oil and wine” — in Verse 6 may not be about the wealthy being shielded from end times scarcity, as is commonly taught. Instead, the oil and wine appear to function as coded markers of supernatural protection for God’s elect.

The oil (ἔλαιον) recalls the anointing of the Holy Spirit and the readiness described in the Parable of the Wise Virgins. The wine (οἶνος) evokes the blood of Christ, the seal of divine ownership over the believer. Together, they represent a state of spiritual preparedness that cannot be bought, borrowed, or stockpiled at the last moment.

That same parable (Matthew 25:1–13), however, contains a rather perplexing omission. Ten virgins went out to meet the bridegroom. Five were wise and took oil in jars along with their lamps. Five were foolish and took no oil. All ten had lamps. All ten grew drowsy and slept. All ten heard the midnight cry. But only five entered the wedding feast. The others arrived too late, crying, “Lord, lord, open to us.” And the bridegroom replied, “Truly, I say to you, I do not know you.”

All ten represented Christians who were eagerly awaiting Christ’s Second Coming, but only half were prepared. The five foolish virgins even addressed the bridegroom as “Lord.” This was the moment they had been waiting for, and yet the Lord bluntly declared that He did not know them.

Why were the foolish virgins utterly unprepared at the stroke of midnight? They wanted to attend the wedding as much as the wise did. They all grew drowsy; they all slept. The difference was not in their eagerness or their wakefulness. Rather, it was in their reserves.

“Since there will not be enough for us and for you, go rather to the dealers and buy for yourselves” (verse 9, ESV).

What Kind of Lamp?

The original Greek word for lamp in the parable is lampas (λαμπάς), and it actually refers to torches or oil-soaked rags on a stick. These are indeed oil-guzzlers. Historical estimates suggest a typical torch of this kind would burn out completely in roughly fifteen minutes unless replenished with oil.

The wait was indeed long, perhaps agonizingly long. But it was not indefinite. How can we know this? Because the five wise virgins “took oil in jars” along with their lamps. The Greek singular for jars here is aggeion (ἀγγεῖον), and a search through the surviving Septuagint (the Greek Old Testament - LXX) yields almost no precedent.

The jars were receptacles substantial enough to hold a reserve supply of oil for torches used in a nighttime procession. These would presumably be smaller than the jars Jesus used at another wedding, namely the turning of water into wine in Cana (John 2). There, the word for the containers is different — hydriai (ὑδρίαι), or water jars — and we are told their capacity explicitly: each could hold “twenty or thirty gallons.” The jars stored by the wise virgins were not excessively large. They were likely equivalent in size to a modern fireman’s bucket, perhaps holding one to three liters each. Portable, but substantial.

Interestingly, the Septuagint does not use lampas for Psalm 119:105: “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (ESV). Instead, it uses a different word — lychnos (λύχνος) — which refers to a steady, fixed lamp placed on a stand, not a torch carried in a procession. The lampas of the parable is a different artifact entirely. It is a short-lived torch that cannot last the night without refueling. The foolish virgins treated their lampas as if it were a lychnos. They learned, too late, that it was not.

So why did the foolish virgins not set aside a few jars for themselves?

The obvious answer, couched in terms of laziness, backsliding or poor planning, is overly simplistic. These were not careless women. They took their lamps. They went out to meet the bridegroom. They waited alongside the wise. They heard the cry and rose up eagerly. In every external sense, they were indistinguishable from the wise. That is, until the moment of testing.

The difference was not in their actions but in their assumptions.

Perhaps the foolish virgins assumed that the bridegroom would arrive on their schedule. Doesn’t this remind you of prophecy watchers who track worldly developments more closely than Scripture itself to recalibrate their notional sequence of the end times? Did they expend their time and resources (e.g. oil) on saving their nation when their Kingdom was never meant to be of this world? Did they waste their energies on politicized appropriations of “Christ is King” when the King Himself is right at their doorstep? In fact, wasn’t He the one who declared:

Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me. (Rev 3:20)

This is what the insidious doctrine of dispensationalism does to believers. It distracts them from being internally prepared. When the bridegroom tarried — when the delay exceeded or pre-empted their forecast — they had nothing left.

The wise virgins, by contrast, planned for the unexpectedly long wait and the surprise appearance. They even fell asleep but were prepared nonetheless. Their jars represent a posture of the heart.

This is where the connection to Revelation 6:6 takes an urgent turn.

The command “do not harm the oil and wine” is not a blanket promise for everyone holding a lamp. It is a promise for those who already have oil in their jars at the pivotal moment. The foolish virgins had no reserves.

Also notice the seeming absurdity of the instruction: “Go rather to the dealers and buy for yourselves.” At midnight? In first-century custom, nighttime commerce was impossible regardless of the day. Markets closed at dusk, and no dealers operated at midnight. The very command to buy oil at midnight was a rhetorical impossibility. Jesus was not offering a practical solution; He was exposing the finality of the moment. The foolish virgins were not just out of oil; they were out of time, out of options, and out of the wedding feast.

And carefully note that the wise virgins were not being cruel. Their refusal to share was not selfishness. “There will not be enough for us and for you.” Oil of this kind — spiritual readiness — cannot be transferred. You cannot borrow someone else’s prayer life though they can intercede on your behalf. But ultimately, you have to be ready. You cannot inherit their vigilance. When the midnight cry sounds, your reserves are yours alone.

The oil, as I argued in the first essay, represents (the anointing of) the Holy Spirit and a life of sustained, costly readiness. It cannot be borrowed from the wise. It cannot be purchased at the last minute from midnight dealers. It must be stored over time via prayer, obedience, and dogged faith when the bridegroom seems silent.

The foolish virgins were not unbelievers. They were unprepared believers. And that, perhaps, is the most frightening warning in all of Scripture. It is possible to eagerly await Christ’s return, to carry a lamp, to call Him “Lord,” and still hear Him say, “I do not know you.”

Postscript: The Oil That Cannot Be Harmed

While Revelation 6 and Matthew 25 address different moments in redemptive history, both passages use oil as a typological marker of sustained spiritual readiness that cannot be improvised at the eleventh hour.

In Revelation 6:6, the voice from among the four living creatures commands the black horse and its rider: “Do not harm the oil and the wine.” That promise is real. But it applies only to those who have oil and wine stored before the famine begins. The foolish virgins had no reserves to sustain them. When the bridegroom came, they had nothing left but empty lamps and desperate knocking.

The wise virgins, by contrast, entered the feast. Their lamps burned through the night. Their jars held out.

The question is not whether you are waiting for the Bridegroom. Even non-believers are silently wondering if the Second Coming is real. The question is whether your jars are full. Anything that distracts you from keeping them filled comes from the evil one.

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