Waiting on God With Oil: Learning To Wait Well

Preparation, presence, and faith in the in-between space

I’m in a season of waiting — and frankly, it’s been a long one, and not where I want to be.

Waiting on God has a way of making us restless. Especially when you’re wired to build, create, solve, and get stuff done. When there’s blank space instead of tangible progress, it can feel tempting to fill it — to do something, anything, just to quiet the discomfort of the unknown.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the parable of the ten virgins in Matthew 25. All ten were waiting. All ten expected the bridegroom. All ten believed he would eventually come. But only five were prepared when he actually arrived.

The difference wasn’t intention or belief — it was preparation.

The unprepared weren’t bad women living a reckless life of sin. They simply assumed there would be enough margin — enough warning, enough oil. The prepared ones understood something simple but profound: waiting is not passive. It requires stewardship.

In light of this parable, I’ve been asking myself what “oil” looks like in our modern, busy lives. We know that during biblical times, oil was used for a number of practical purposes. It was used for lighting, beautification, wound care, food, burial, rituals, and anointing kings and priests. We know that having a supply of oil, in the natural, requires an investment of time, resources, and effort.

Symbolically, we know oil in the bible represents God’s grace and the Presence of Holy Spirit. This type of “oil” is also gathered intentionally, over time, and often in quiet, unseen ways. We do not accumulate a supply of oil by hustling and rushing towards outcomes.

How To Wait On God Well

Instead, this kind of oil looks like tending to our inner life by making space for prayer, fasting, practicing gratitude, and allowing the Lord to heal places we’d rather bypass. Gathering oil during a season of waiting on God looks like serving where we’re planted instead of chasing what’s next, and learning to sit with uncertainty without trying to solve it prematurely.

There’s a strong temptation in waiting seasons to fill the space — to overwork, overthink, or overcommit, numbing the stillness with activity. But preparation requires something different. It requires presence, stillness, attentiveness, and faith when no one is clapping and nothing seems to be changing.

Waiting on God isn’t wasted as long as we’re tending our oil. Waiting well is about becoming ready. 

The bridegroom didn’t arrive early to accommodate the unprepared. He arrived on time — and readiness mattered. I don’t know what you may be waiting for right now: a door to open, a season to shift, a prayer to be answered. But I do know this: waiting isn’t wasted as long as we’re tending our oil.

So the question isn’t when the wait will be over, but whether we’re preparing for it with care.