Trimmed and Burning: The Inner Feast of the Bridegroom
Ah, it feels good to be back. There are periods of innundating insights, and periods of deep integration. They wax and they wane, it’s learning to trust that the connection never dies. This blog is a result of a whisper of the Spirit that hit me right in the passenger seat on Friday.
We were driving when it came on, Susan Tedeschi’s voice rising like a prayer:
“Keep your lamps trimmed and burning, see what the Lord has done.”
The rhythm hummed through the car, a song we have sung so many times together. But that soul-stirring blend of blues and gospel nestled quietly into my grey matter, I turned to Hunter and asked, “Are you familiar with the parable this song is about?”
He wasn’t.
“It’s a fascinating parable about the ten virgins, 5 who kept their lamps trimmed and 5 who didn’t.”
This wasn’t just a song we loved playing through the speaker, but a summons to follow the Spirit. It’s a gospel call to stay awake, to keep the flame alive within. Obediently, I pulled up the Blue Letter Bible and began to read Matthew 25.
In it, Jesus tells the story of ten virgins who took their lamps to meet the bridegroom. Five were wise and brought oil; five were foolish and did not. When the bridegroom was delayed and finally came at midnight, only those whose lamps were still burning entered the feast.
For most of my life, I heard this parable taught as a warning— a call to be ready for the Second Coming. But sitting there in the car, I heard it differently. Not as fear, but as invitation.
To keep our lamps trimmed and burning isn’t about anxious waiting; it’s about attunement. It’s about living in such communion with God that when Love draws near, in any form, in any moment, we recognize it.
As with any Scripture, it’s important to immerse yourself in the context and culture Jesus spoke from. Let’s dive into the traditional Hebrew wedding feast as an explorer would, with profound curiosity and reverence. For starters, the ancient Hebrew wedding was layered with ritual and meaning, each step mirroring the divine story of covenant and reunion:
The Betrothal (Kiddushin)
The covenant began long before the feast. Once a dowry was paid and vows exchanged, the groom would depart to prepare a place for his bride, often by adding a room onto his father’s house. Only when the father approved the dwelling could the groom return. This should bring new dimensionality to John 14:2: “In My Father’s house are many rooms… I go to prepare a place for you.” Let it be understood that the betrothal was the covenant bond, legally bound despite living separately.The Waiting
The bride didn’t know when her groom would return. Every night, she kept her lamp beside her bed, oil ready, veil folded, heart awake. Her attendants— the virgins— waited too, because when the call came, they would rise to meet the groom in torchlight procession (hence the need to keep oil on deck).The Procession and Feast (Nissuin)
At last, once the dwelling was approved, the groom (and his groomsmen) would set out for his bride. Under torchlight and trumpet blast, the procession wound through the dark streets toward the feast. Once the doors closed, the celebration began: seven days of overflowing joy, union, and covenant renewal.
This was the picture Jesus painted: the Bridegroom as Christ, the bride as the soul, the feast as divine union, heaven and earth wedded in covenant love.
“But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, but My Father only.” — Matthew 24:36
Now on to the virgins and their lamps. Consider the symbolism of the lamp, the oil and trimming the wick.
Lamp → the vessel of the soul or consciousness, the outer form through which light can shine.
Oil → the inner substance that fuels illumination, often interpreted as faith, devotion, or the indwelling Spirit. In Hebrew and early Christian symbolism, anointing oil signified divine empowerment and consecration.
Trimming the wick → the refining of one’s inner life, removing the charred excess so that the light burns clean and steady, a beautiful metaphor for ongoing sanctification, integration and refinement.
To “keep your lamp trimmed and burning” means to live in spiritual alertness, tending the flame of divine presence within you so that when Love comes — in the form of opportunity, revelation, or Christ’s return — you are awake and radiant, not dulled by distraction or spiritual complacency.
In mystic language, the bridegroom’s delay reflects the mystery of time and the process of awakening. The wise virgins stay present, maintaining their oil even in the waiting. The foolish ones rely on borrowed light, symbolic of external religiosity without inner transformation.
This echoes Jesus’s words in Luke 17:21:
“The kingdom of God is within you.”
The “return” of Christ is not only a cosmic event but also an inner dawning, the moment the Divine Bridegroom arrives within consciousness, and the soul is found ready.
In the parable, the bridegroom’s delay feels long, but consider that delay as grace. It reveals what’s real. Anyone can hold a torch when the music swells and the sky is bright. But when the waiting stretches long, when life feels ordinary, like a car ride on a weekday afternoon, that’s where readiness is proven.
The midnight hour reveals what the daylight conceals. It is in the waiting, not the arrival, that the wise learn to keep their lamps trimmed.
Because the Bridegroom comes not only once at the end of time, but continuously, in every moment that asks:
Are you awake?
Can you still see Me?
Are you prepared for Me?
Do you love me?
Now onto the feast. Revelation calls it8 the Marriage Supper of the Lamb, but this feast begins long before eternity. It begins the instant awareness meets Presence, when the human heart opens and heaven floods in. In mystic theology, it represents the integration of Spirit and matter, heaven and earth, Christ and the soul. Each act of love, each breath of surrender, is a candle in that banquet hall.
Heaven is not elsewhere; it is the place in us where we become one with the Divine.
Paul captured this mystery in 2 Corinthians 3:18:
“And we all, with unveiled faces, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory.”
What we behold, we become. When our gaze rests on Christ — not only as an external deity but as indwelling Light — we are changed by what we see, and Christ changes what we see. The more we behold Him, the more His image is formed in us. The veil (mentioned in the verses before 2 Corinthians 3:18) represents the egoic perception that separates us from God’s presence, the illusion of duality. To behold with unveiled faces is to live in direct communion, the Edenic restoration of sight. The transformation “from glory to glory” mirrors the ascension of consciousness, not escaping the world, but becoming light within it.
The wise virgins, then, are not waiting in fear but in recognition. Their oil is not anxiety, but intimacy. Their lamps burn with love that already knows His face and anticipates His return.
As the car rolled down the highway, Derek’s revelator kept twangin’ and Susan kept sangin’,
“Keep your lamps trimmed and burning, see what the Lord has done.”
And I soberly realized, this song isn’t just about endurance; it’s about vision.
It’s about learning to see what the Lord has already done, the Kingdom that’s already near, the light that’s already within burning, the Bridegroom who is always coming.
Perhaps the music that moves us is its own kind of midnight call: a reminder that the Bridegroom draws near in every generation, every lifetime, every breath. The question is not when He will come, but whether our lamps will still be burning when He does.
So my friends, my prayer for each of us is this:
May we be found ready, not with fear, but with flame ablaze, eyes unveiled, lamps steady, hearts burning with love.
For what we behold, we become, and what we become, we offer back to Love.
I would love to hear your interpretation of this parable in the comments!
In love + light,
April