Here Comes the Bridegroom

Jesu Juva

Matthew 25:1-13                                        

November 8, 2026

Proper 27A            

Dear saints of our Savior,

        The parable of the Ten Virgins is filled with lots of interesting details.  You’ve got drowsy virgins, lamps and oil, and a wedding which is way behind schedule.  But this parable makes one thing perfectly clear and patently obvious: The Bridegroom is coming!

        The Lord Jesus Christ will come with glory to judge both the living and the dead.  The Bridegroom—our Bridegroom—will one day come again.  Our longing and waiting is not in vain.  All that we dare hope for will be realized.  Faith will be vindicated.  Every promise of God, fulfilled. 

        Best of all, you will be there.  Your invitation to this marriage feast is engraved on the wounded hands of Jesus.  You will experience unimaginable joy in the presence of Jesus as all His holy ones are led into the marriage feast of the Lamb in His kingdom which has no end.  Let there be no doubt:  The Bridegroom is coming; and for that coming we wait more than watchmen wait for the morning.

        But not everyone is waiting; and not everyone will be ushered into the marriage feast.  There are some who will be shut out—some to whom the Lord will say, “I do not know you.”  So that you might never hear those horrific words, Jesus told this magnificent parable.

        The ten virgins are virgins; but we might do well to think of them as bridesmaids.  It was the job of these bridesmaids to accompany the Groom on His joyful procession into the wedding hall.  Unlike modern weddings which begin promptly at the appointed hour, this wedding can’t seem to get started.  Nothing can happen until groom decides to show up.  He could be early; or he could be late.  The virgins simply had to be ready and waiting.

        And as for these virgins, there’s a critical distinction to be made:  five were wise and five were foolish.  And the wisdom of the wise has nothing to do with test scores or GPAs.  In the Scriptures, to be “wise” is to have faith—to believe—to trust in the promises of God.  And to be “foolish” is to be unbelieving and faithless.

        Now, if you were to look at those ten virgins, you likely wouldn’t see much of a difference between them.  Whether they all wore matching dresses or had matching flowers—we just don’t know.  But all ten took their little lamps along to wait for the Bridegroom.  However, only the wise brought along extra flasks of oil.  The foolish virgins brought no oil.

        This detail about the oil is damning.  Would you set out for a camping trip in the wilderness without packing food and a sleeping bag?  Would you set off on vacation with your cell phone, but intentionally leave your charging cord at home?  Of course not.  So, why did the five foolish virgins set out to meet the Bridegroom with no oil for their lamps?  Did they forget?  Or did they really have no intention of waiting?  The slightest delay was too much of an inconvenience for them.  No oil indicated no hope.  The lack of oil signaled that they had stopped believing and trusting that the Bridegroom would come.

        Back in seminary, I had an Old Testament professor who would randomly pick a student at the beginning of every class to provide an in-depth translation for a passage from the Hebrew OT.  Every student knew what Hebrew passage had been assigned; but no one knew who would get called on.  Every student had to be ready, with nouns and verbs declined and diagrammed.  You had to know what every dot was doing in that text—and Hebrew has lots of dots.  But “Woe!” to that student who was unready and unprepared to give the translation.  For them, it never ended well.

        Why were some of us sometimes unprepared?  It wasn’t a decision we made.  Life just got in the way.  There were other priorities that kept us from being always ready and always prepared to give a level 3 Hebrew translation.

        Perhaps that’s how it was for the five foolish virgins.  Life just got in the way.  For them, waiting on the Bridegroom to arrive was just one more thing on their to-do list.  They had other priorities.  Other things needed tending.   Who’s got time to worry about an extra flask of oil?  Who knows when—or even if—the Bridegroom is ever going to show up?  For those foolish five, the Bridegroom and the marriage feast just faded away—simply stopped being the main thing.  (And for that there would be hell to pay.)

        But for the five wise virgins?  They were ready!  They were prepared.  They had their extra oil.  They could even go to sleep full of faith and expectation.  Why?  Because they knew and believed that the Bridegroom was coming.  For the wise ones, the Bridegroom and the marriage feast are what they lived for.  They believed beyond all doubt that the Bridegroom was coming.  And for them, that faith—that expectation—was everything.

        The Bridegroom is coming.  That is sure and certain.  But just as sure and certain is that Satan seeks every opportunity to disrupt your faithful watching and waiting.  He uses the most innocuous events of life to rob you of your wisdom and strip you of your faith:  Every item on your to-do list becomes increasingly important and radically relevant to your well-being.  Meanwhile your oil supply dwindles.  The things that fuel your faith and make you wise unto salvation dwindle to dangerous new lows:  repentance, confession, prayer, and worship—you can get to that later.  There’s always next Sunday!

You hear the Word, but don’t take it to heart, because you’ve got other things to worry about.  And so that heart becomes cold and unresponsive.  Sin becomes so ordinary, so commonplace.  And in our busyness we foolishly forget:  The Bridegroom is coming.  The procession will begin.  The party will start.  The door will be shut.  And those who are foolish will grieve to hear the Bridegroom say, “I do not know you.”

        In the end, when the Bridegroom comes on the last day, when the Lord Himself comes down from heaven—those who looked like fools in this world will turn out to be wise; while those who appeared to be wise and savvy in this world will turn out to be damned fools.  This is why Jesus says: Keep watch.  Jesus wants you, His dear saints, to be expectant and watchful, repentant and ready, listening for the trumpet call of God with a rich supply of the fuel of faith.

        Why watch for Jesus?  Why fix your heart and mind on the day of His return?  Because He’s the one who has taken all your sin upon Himself.  He’s the one who suffered and died on a Roman tool of torture as your sacred substitute.  He’s the One who crowns you with His righteousness and His holiness and His wisdom.  He’s the One who rose from the dead to give you resurrection life.  He’s the One who honors you and treasures you, who will never leave you or forsake you.  This Bridegroom is your knight in shining armor.

        He will come indeed on the Last Day.  But He also comes today, supplying you with all the fuel your faith will ever need.  All the forgiveness, life and salvation that Jesus hung on the cross to win for the world—He gives it all away here and now in His holy absolution, in holy baptism, in His holy Word as it’s preached and proclaimed, and in His holy supper.  In these precious means is more than enough “Jesus” to keep our little gospel lights burning and shining brightly until the Last Day.  Stock up while you can!  Only a fool would say to all of this, “No thanks.  Too busy.  I can do without that.”

        The wise bridesmaids knew the One in whom they hoped.  They trusted the One for whom they waited.  They lived and slept in the confidence of their Bridegroom’s coming.  That’s your confidence, too.  Your Jesus is coming.  Watch therefore.

        In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

 

Power in the Blood

 Jesu Juva

Revelation 7:9-17                                      

 November 1, 2026

All Saints’ Day    

Dear Saints of Our Savior~

        Every Sunday morning your pastor does something reckless and risky.  Every Sunday morning, I vest myself in white.  A white alb, or a white chasuble, or a white stole, or a white surplice—there’s always something white to be worn when you’re a pastor. And white is risky, of course, because white is the most stainable color. 

And white is also the color for this day—All Saints’ Day.  Today we remember the saints who now rest from their labors—all those made holy through faith in Jesus—who are now with Jesus.  This is the church’s Memorial Day.  On this day we name our dead before the Lord with tear-filled eyes, but firmly believing what is said about them in the Scriptures:  They are blessed.  They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. 

        Today’s reading from Revelation seven gives us a sneak peek into heaven—gives a glimpse of the glory which the dead in Christ now enjoy.  St. John sets the scene:  After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb.  Gathered around God’s throne is a crowd too big to count—a crowd that dwarfs the hundreds of thousands who gathered in downtown Milwaukee on Friday.  This is a diverse crowd—different languages and nationalities—but a crowd united as one in their worship of the Lamb who was slain. 

        But it’s what this heavenly host is wearing that always grabs my attention:  They are wearing white robes.  White—because they have been covered in the righteousness and holiness of Jesus.  White—the most stainable color.  Keeping a white robe white is a full-time job (in my experience).  Everything stains it:  a drop of wine, a smudge of make-up from some huggable member, or even just the grit and grime from two hundred handshakes per Sunday.

        But let’s take this talk about stains to a deeper level.  Stained clothing is an unfortunate occurrence.  It happens to the best of us.  Like spilled milk, there’s no use crying over stained clothing.  But there is a different kind of stain which is a crying shame.  The worst stains we bear are hidden from the naked eye.  You can’t see these horrid stains; but you can feel them.  The greasy smudge of sin disfigures us right down to our core.  Our idolatries leave a mark.  Our adulteries leave a spot.  Our loveless living leaves us soiled and sullied.  The hurt and harm we dish out leaves behind an area of discoloration.  The gossip that we slop around in taints and tarnishes everything and everyone.  Our sin contaminates and corrupts us to the core.   

        The stains that sin creates are the most stubborn of stains.  Good luck getting rid of those stains.  You can work and scrub and scour and soak and bleach.  Like Shakespeare’s murderous Lady Macbeth, we claim a white heart even with blood-stained hands:  Out damned spot!   We know her plight (and her fright!)  The stain of our sin carries consequences.  It has the potential to separate us from God—to deaden our faith—to keep us on the outside of the pearly gates—which is a dreadful place to be.

        So let’s look again at those saints who dwell on the inside—so that we who bear sin’s damning stain might one day join them.  Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, “Who are these, clothed in white robes, and from where have they come?”  I said to him, “Sir, you know.”  And he said to me, “These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation.  They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.

        Every white-robed resident of heaven—every saint of our Savior—has come through what is called “the great tribulation.”  Some see that “tribulation” as a reference to the intense suffering to be endured by Christians who are still living in this world’s final days.  That will certainly be a “great tribulation.”  But please notice that the elder who speaks is referring to all the white-robed residents of heaven.  All these “are coming out of” the great tribulation (present tense).  This tells us that every saint of God in heaven has endured some dimension of this “great tribulation.”  We all have our share in this suffering.

        This great tribulation is the battle you wage daily against sin.  It is the persecution, the temptation, the suffering, the crosses you carry because you are one redeemed by Christ the crucified.  This tribulation often leaves you with a weary heart, and tear-filled eyes, and, inevitably, a sin-stained soul.  But rejoice and be glad, because every white-robe-wearing resident of heaven has experienced it.  This life can be filled with terrible tribulation—things that are unfair, unjust, and painful.  This tribulation is real and unavoidable.

        This is why we celebrate All Saints’ Day.  This is why we dare to turn our gaze inside heaven’s gates. Because we need to see how that multitude has gone through the great tribulation you are now enduring.  The difference is: They have come out.  They have exited.  They in glory shine.  They are finished with sin and its stain—finished with tears, finished with death.  How?  Based on what?  How did they get from here to there—from tribulation to jubilation?  From sorrow to eternal joy?  Sir, you know.  Madame, you know.  They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. 

        On its face, it sounds ridiculous that something could be made white through blood.  In our experience, blood creates stains; it doesn’t remove them.  But not so with the Lamb—the Lord Jesus Christ.  For the blood of this red-blooded man was shed in sacrifice for you—for you and every stained sinner.  The blood of Jesus removes the stubborn stains that nothing else can erase.  Sin’s damning stain can only be cleansed away by the blood of Jesus. 

So, confess those stains.  Repent of those blemishes.  Wash your robe!  Let the blood of Jesus shed on His crucifixion cross do its cleansing work in you.  Let yourself be whitened and brightened in preparation for that day when you too will leave behind this great tribulation to shine like stars in the kingdom prepared for you since before time began.

        The blood of Jesus is THE perfect stain remover.  Not even a trace of sin’s stain is left behind where the blood of Christ has carried out its cleansing work.  His blood can make the foulest clean.  There’s power in the blood—wonder-working power.  And that precious blood of the Lamb—with its wonder-working power—is poured into your sin-parched lips right here for the forgiveness of sins.  Real blood, for real sins, for real cleansing, and real life that lasts forever.  Here at this altar you are whitened and purified in the blood of the Lamb in His Holy Supper.

        Blessed are you on this All Saints’ Day.  Yours is the kingdom of heaven.  In your struggle against sin, be comforted:  Your sinful stains are lifted away in the cleansing blood of Jesus.  Your time of tribulation is nearly over.  (The exit is just ahead.)  Rejoice and be glad.  Great is your reward in heaven.

        In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Be Still and Know

Jesu Juva

Psalm 46                                                       

October 25, 2026

Reformation Sunday     

Dear saints of our Savior~

        God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.  So begins Psalm 46—which our choir sang this morning.  This Psalm was Luther’s inspiration for his most famous hymn, A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.  Both Psalm 46 and Luther’s hymn boldly declare that the Church of Jesus Christ will endure forever—that the gates of hell will not prevail against her—that the Kingdom ours remaineth—despite threats, persecutions, false teachings, and assaults on all sides.

        Psalm 46 has rich theology; but the geology seems all wrong.  The Psalm speaks of mountains—moving mountains, shaking and quaking mountains, mountains falling into the sea.  Those aren’t the mountains I know.  Most mountains are quite immovable.  They’re not going anywhere.  They are lasting landmarks.  Our Psalmist was apparently no geologist.

        Then again, this Psalm, like all the others, is poetry—poetry with power and purpose.  It’s poetry in service of the gospel.  And what counts in this poem isn’t the literal, geological detail.  No, these mountains are metaphors.  They signify something else.  Mountains stand for strength and stability.  So, when mountains are moving and shaking and quaking, something’s not right.  It’s just like in real life when all that we look to for stability and security fails—when our whole world gets turned upside down, and our carefully crafted normalcy devolves into chaos.

        When the sturdy mountains in your life start moving, well, then you’ve got trouble with a capital T.  When a loved one dies, when the job is terminated, when people you love wander from the faith or reject it altogether—or, when you yourself come face to face with the depth of your own depravity—this is chaos. This is when the earth gives way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea.

        But precisely then, Psalm 46 teaches us: God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.  Precisely then we learn that our real source of strength and support is not the people or the things or the money.  It’s not the “goods, fame, child, and wife,” as we sang earlier.  “Though these all be gone, Our victory has been won.  The Kingdom ours remaineth.” God Himself is our refuge and our strength—our mighty fortress, our trusty shield and weapon.

        Do you believe it?  Is this the God in whom you trust when your world caves in?  Is this the God you turn to when an ocean of evil and a sea of sin threaten to sweep you away?  Or is there some other god—some idol that you cling to like a life preserver?  In this Psalm God calls us to repent of our idolatry.  He calls us to let go of whatever prevents us from fearing, loving and trusting Him above all things.  He says, “Be still and know that I am God.”

        Be still and know that I am God.  That’s one of the most valuable sentences in all the Scripture.  Because what usually happens when calamity strikes and our world gets turned upside down?  Well, we think that we have to fix it.  We think we have to call the shots.  We think it all depends on us to make things better—our works, our words, our strength, our intelligence.  We think that our clever calculations can do the trick and make the difference.  But God says: Stop.  Be still.  Know that I am God. 

        Put away your idols and let God be God.  What does that mean?  It means be still and stop telling God what to do.  If you need help, pray for help.  If you need rescue, then pray for rescue.  If you need healing, then pray for healing.  But don’t limit your petitions by dictating the details of the help and healing you need.  Trust Him.  Trust that He knows best how to help—and believe that He wants to help.

        Let God be God; and let you  . . . be still.  Be still and stop trying to be god in the place of God.  Stop trying to control everyone and everything.  Be still and know that the results are in God’s hands—not yours.  Your job is simply to be faithful—to hear His Word and keep His Word—and then to sit back and watch the wonders God can do. 

        It calls to mind that scene in Exodus where the Israelites have hightailed it out of Egypt only to find themselves in a situation of absolute peril and calamity.  Pharaoh and his chariots were closing in from behind, and the Red Sea waters loomed ahead.  Their options were death . . . or a return to slavery. 

But Moses told them:  “Fear not, stand firm, [behold] the salvation of the Lord, which He will work for you today. . . .The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent” (Ex. 14:13-14). And so the Israelites went their way in silence and awe; and watched the Lord’s deliverance unfold.  The Lord triumphed gloriously, the horse and rider thrown into the sea. 

        In the same way, we stand at the cross of Jesus and witness our own rescue.  We witness the nails and the thorns in silence and awe, knowing that by His wounds we are healed—by His blood we are saved.  In Jesus alone we are rescued and delivered.  All of us have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.  All of us have tried our hand at being god in the place of God.  And for that there is hell to pay. 

So be still, and see what Jesus has done.  He has carried your sin and guilt to the cross.  Jesus is your refuge because He knew no refuge on Good Friday.  Jesus is your strength today because on Good Friday He used up every last ounce of His strength to deliver you.  He was exalted on the cross so that you might be exalted to His heavenly kingdom.

        Psalm 46 tells us that the Lord is “a very present help in trouble.”  Those words tell us two things.  First of all, there will be trouble.  You can expect it—mountain-moving, earth-shaking, heart-pounding trouble.  But you do not face it alone.  Your God is a very present help in times of trouble.  And just what is this help?  His good gifts and Spirit:  In the preaching and proclamation of His Word, in the cleansing sentence of holy absolution, in the new birth of Baptism, and in the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood.  These are the good gifts through which God is pleased to work in you—to support you and deliver you in time of trouble, and to give you eternal life.

        This is the river of Psalm 46—the “river whose streams make glad the city of God.”  It’s not a literal river, as we think of rivers.  It’s a metaphor.  It’s something better.  It’s a river of blessings—a river of forgiveness—a river of living water welling up to eternal life.  And it flows from the cross of Jesus Christ, right through this altar and this pulpit, right into your ears and your mouth and your heart.

        Reformation Sunday is all about the Savior and His good Gospel gifts—the help He provides in time of trouble.  There was a time in human history when the Savior and His gifts were all but lost—when satanic lies had all but erased the truth of God.  Christians lived in fear of Jesus the judge.  Forgiveness was bought and sold in the church.  Heaven was something you worked for and earned—but you could never be sure if you were good enough to get there.  When it came to salvation, the church’s message wasn’t “be still,” but “good luck!”

        Today we remember the miracle God worked in those dark days—how a man named Martin was made to see, “the just shall live by faith.”  And with that glorious gospel truth the church of Jesus Christ was renewed and restored.  Still today the Reformation miracle endures.  And we will not fear.  God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.  Come hell or high water, falling mountains or surging seas, the Lord Almighty is with us.  The God of Jacob is our fortress.  The Kingdom ours remaineth. 

        In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.