The Power Nap

The power nap.  President Reagan took one every afternoon.  I indulge in them on weekends.  They help restore one’s vitality.

But if you really want to talk about effective snoozing, look no further than the black bear.

One woman writes, “If you’re a bear, you get to hibernate. You do nothing but sleep for four months. I could deal with that. Before you hibernate, you’re supposed to eat yourself stupid. I could deal with that, too. If you’re a mama bear, everyone knows you mean business. You swat anyone who bothers your cubs. If your cubs get out of line, you swat them, too. I could deal with that. If you’re a bear, your mate expects you to wake up growling. He expects that you will have hairy legs and excess body fat. I wanna be a bear.”

Research is beginning to unpack the amazing slumber skills of these animals. They hibernate for up to four months during the winter, without ever waking up to eat, drink, relieve themselves or exercise. And while the catatonic inactivity of hibernating bears may drop their heart rate to as low as six beats per minute, they still burn an amazing 4,000 calories per day!

But what is truly amazing about these power-nappers is the ability to emerge from hibernation faster and stronger than a combat Humvee on a cold day — at almost the same level of physical strength and stamina as when they started their season-skipping siesta. Through daily regimens of muscle stimulation and contraction, bears are able to both maintain their constant body temperature and keep their massive muscles in working shape. So come spring, they bound out of their den at full speed ready to eat about anything in sight.

Four months off and good as new. That’s a true power nap.

But while the deep sleep of hibernation is great for bears, not all slumber is equally beneficial.

Fall asleep on Jesus, and you may not emerge feeling so rested and refreshed.

When Jesus talked about the kingdom of God, he used parables with illustrations from everyday life to make his point. In today’s Gospel, he tells the story of ten single virgins who go out to meet a prospective bridegroom. But the groom is running late, and so they all nod off for a while … a power nap before the courting begins.

Eventually the Bachelor arrived, but not every Bachelorette got a rose that night. While all were eager for the opportunity to meet a potential quality mate, only five were eligible and invited to the party.

Now we know that Jesus was able to nap, even while frothy seas stormed around him (Luke 8:23). And the issue in this story is not the fact that the bridesmaids napped as well, because all ten did so. The issue is that only five woke up prepared and ready to go in the middle of the night. Jesus is warning against bad kingdom catnaps; hibernating without remaining strong and ready to go.

Five of the virgins were un-bear like. They emerged from their hibernation and they weren’t prepared for the advent of the bridegroom. They had to run off to the market to buy oil in order to prepare their lamps for meeting him.

So how prepared are we for the coming of the Lord? Can we awake during this delay prepared to meet him, or must we still scramble to get pretty and party-worthy?

To do so, we’ve got to keep the lamps trimmed.

So what is the oil we are short of? How might we scramble around to get ready for meeting Christ today?

Oil in Scripture is often a symbol for the Holy Spirit. Perhaps we try to spring into action without submitting our work, or our intentions, or our purpose to the Holy Spirit so that God’s Spirit can fill our deeds with power and effectiveness.

Or perhaps we’re short of the oil of kindness and compassion. There’s no way we’re ready to meet Jesus in the person of the unloved and unfortunate lacking the essential oils of compassion and mercy.

Perhaps we’re short of the oil of patience. Without such oil, we’re ill-equipped to deal with a person who needs long-term love and extensive guidance.

Perhaps we’re short of the oil of education and instruction. We’re not adequately trained to be of service where we have the natural skills and the interest to minister. Perhaps God is calling us to take our expertise and skills to another level in order to more adequately meet Jesus when he comes to us.

To be prepared for the party, we’re to trim our lamps daily.

Finally, there is a somber ending to this warning against slumber. The opportunity to be included as a member of God’s kingdom eventually comes to an end. That is why the previous lesson of being prepared has such import.

But aren’t we used to plenty of second chances? Kids cry out “do-overs” if they don’t like the outcome of a game played with friends. High-school students can retake the SAT to improve their scores. The delete key on our computer quickly offers the chance to fix mistakes that an old typewriter never could. In fact, the love and grace of God offer plenty of second chances … even seven times 70 chances if necessary.

But there is an eventual end point at which these second chances are no more. Lazarus knew it. One of the thieves on the cross knew it. And Jesus obviously knew it as well (25:11-12). When the bridegroom does return, the opportunities to prepare for him are no longer presented.

Jesus sounds a loving warning: “Live a spiritual life that is already prepared for my return.”

So how then do we respond to this parable?

We might take a spiritual inventory of our lives. What areas can we see that would be like the untrimmed lamp? What oil do we need to go and buy now? In our devotional lives … in our workplace … in our friendships with pre-Christians … in the way we treat our families … in the choices we make when nobody else is looking?

And aren’t there interesting implications for our loved ones as well? The point of the story is not the relationship between the five prepared and the five unprepared virgins. However, is it not also true that the most loving thing the former could have done for the latter would have been to bring enough oil to share with them?

What more loving thing can we do for others than to help them be prepared, calling them from their sleep and helping them find oil to trim their lamps? The “Groom” wants as many guests as possible to enter his party, and we can help prepare others for the feast.

Josh McDowell tells about an executive head-hunter who goes out and hires corporate executives for large firms. This headhunter once told McDowell that when he gets an executive that he’s trying to hire for someone else, he likes to disarm him. “I offer him a drink, take my coat off, undo my tie, throw up my feet and talk about sports, family, whatever, until he’s all relaxed. Then, when I think I’ve got him relaxed, I lean over, look him square in the eye and say, ‘What’s your purpose in life?’ It’s amazing,” said the headhunter, “how top executives fall apart at that question.”

Then he told about interviewing one fellow recently. He had him all disarmed, had his feet up on his desk, talking about football. Then the headhunter leaned over and said, “What’s your purpose in life, Bob?” And the executive who was being recruited said, without blinking an eye, “To go to heaven and take as many people with me as I can.”

“For the first time in my career,” said the headhunter, “I was speechless.”

So let’s remember what we are preparing for. It is a wedding banquet. A party. Not something woeful. And this reality should speak to our motivation in the spiritual life.

Back in pre-Covid days, there was always great anticipation getting ready to go out and socialize at a friend’s house. We looked forward to the community of friends we would be with and anticipated the festivities that we were getting ready for.

After spending the past two weeks is social isolation, I experienced what it is like to be separated from community.  Many of you have experienced this as well. All of this community separation this year makes me think about separation from God.  If it’s painful not being able to temporarily socialize with our friends, imagine what it would be like to be permanently cut off from God.

But there’s good news.  Jesus didn’t tell a parable about ten virgins preparing for an IRS tax audit. They were preparing for a celebration.

And the celebration Jesus calls us to is worth getting ready for … for it will be a banquet of unending satisfaction.

We can take a lesson from the black bear: Always wake up prepared to go.

Because the party is worth the anticipation – and the suitor is worth the preparation.