The Danger of Almost Ready: Why Closeness to God Isn’t Enough

I am naturally inclined to be prepared, always thinking ahead and planning for potential issues. If something might go wrong, I’ve likely already envisioned it. This mindset shows up in everyday actions, such as what I carry with me, the backups I maintain, and my efforts to stay ready for unpredictable situations. I never want to be almost ready.

People sometimes observe and ask why. To them, it seems excessive, but to me, it’s responsible. I prepare not out of fear of disaster, but to be ready when it counts.

I’m concerned about how quickly that natural instinct fades when the topic shifts to the eternal.

In many aspects of life, we know that “almost prepared” isn’t truly prepared. A parachute that nearly opens still fails. Ignoring a warning because it hasn’t yet caused trouble can lead to regret later.

Spiritually, we frequently regard “almost” as sufficient, but Jesus did not.

Some of the most sobering words He ever spoke were not aimed at skeptics or unbelievers. They were aimed at people convinced they were ready. People who said the right words. People who were close to the things of God. And His response was devastating. “I never knew you.”

The danger Jesus exposes is not rebellion. It’s an assumption. The quiet confidence that proximity equals preparation. The belief that because we’re near the kingdom, we must be ready for it.

‘Almost ready’ feels reassuring. It feels familiar and close enough that we stop doubting it.

Matthew 25 is unsettling because every story in it is told to people who belong. Not outsiders. Not strangers. People inside the household. And every story ends the same way. Someone expects inclusion and is shocked by exclusion.

That should stop us.

Lamps Without Oil

Jesus begins with ten virgins waiting for the bridegroom. All of them belong in the procession. They have lamps and look ready on the outside. The difference doesn’t show until midnight.

Five brought oil. Five didn’t. Five planned for a delay. Five assumed what they had would be enough.

The foolish virgins were neither immoral nor hostile, nor did they mock the bridegroom. They were simply careless, relying on their previous preparations to meet the upcoming demands.

Oil in Scripture isn’t merely decorative. It represents spiritual life sustained, not assumed. Not a single moment in the past, but an ongoing relationship marked by obedience, prayer, fasting, and submission to the Spirit.

You don’t accidentally stay full of oil.

When the cry goes out, scrambling begins. Borrowing. Fixing. Last-minute effort. And while they’re gone, the door shuts.

They say the right words. “Lord, Lord.” Familiar, religious language. But the response is chilling. “I know you not.” Belonging, appearance, and proximity all failed to save them.

Almost ready failed at the moment readiness mattered most.

Talents Buried in the Ground

The next story transitions from oil to themes of responsibility.

A master entrusts his goods to his servants, not to strangers. Each receives something. No one is empty-handed. And then the master leaves.

Time passes. Delay becomes the test.

Two servants quickly begin their tasks. They use what they’ve been entrusted with, taking risks and putting it into action. Their faithfulness shows itself in action.

The third servant digs a hole and buries the talent.

He doesn’t waste it. He doesn’t steal it. Instead, he preserves it. Yet this is exactly the issue. Fear becomes the excuse. Caution is framed as reverence. Inaction is defended as wisdom.

But Scripture doesn’t treat knowing without doing as neutral. It calls it disobedience.

What God entrusts is meant to be used. Truth. Calling. Influence. Opportunity. Gifts. They exist for the benefit of others, not for safekeeping.

The servant isn’t condemned for inability. He’s condemned for refusal.

Almost ready preserves. Ready produces. And when the master returns, that difference is no longer theoretical.

Faith That Never Moves

The final picture strips away everything we tend to hide behind. No lamps, no talents, no debate over doctrine or confession, just people standing before the King.

The separation happens instantly: sheep on one side, goats on the other. What’s remarkable isn’t their appearance but how alike their calls are; both call Him Lord and are caught off guard.

The sheep were accepted because they responded to needs. They fed, visited, and showed up. In contrast, the goats were rejected because they did nothing. They did not persecute the hurting; instead, they ignored them.

Jesus does not accuse them of cruelty; instead, he criticizes their absence.

This was not a new standard; God had always emphasized it. Devotion lacking compassion has never pleased Him. Faith that does not manifest love is incomplete.

The goats didn’t reject God; they failed to reflect Him. They believed enough to speak to Him but didn’t love enough to serve as He did.

Almost ready, it remains pure. Almost ready remains faithful. However, being almost ready sometimes lacks concern. When the King passes judgment, this distinction becomes everlasting.

What Are We Missing, being Almost Ready?

By the time Jesus finishes Matthew 25, the stories begin to overlap. Different images, same outcome.

The virgins did not have a continuous spiritual life. The servant failed to act obediently. The goats showed a lack of compassionate involvement. These are different failures with the same underlying cause. They assumed belonging was sufficient.

Scripture doesn’t instruct us to panic; instead, it encourages us to examine ourselves. Paul advocates for self-proving, while Peter urges believers to confirm their calling. It’s not about assuming but about ensuring and verifying.

Almost ready doesn’t seem risky because it feels comfortable. It still hopes and believes in truth. It still makes an appearance. However, almost ready ceases checking the oil, avoids responsibility, and ignores need.

The real risk isn’t losing faith, but ceasing to react.

Working out our salvation does not imply earning it; instead, salvation is the work of God within us. Our obedience is a response to that divine work. Grace initiates the process, faith accepts it, and obedience sustains it.

None of these parables teach salvation by works. They teach that salvation works.

While the Door Is Still Open

The mercy of Matthew 25 lies in that these warnings are provided before judgment, not during it. Oil can still be obtained, talents can still be invested, and compassion can still be stirred.

Scripture assures us that God can prevent us from falling and will present us blameless with joy. This reflects His heart. His warnings are not meant to cause anxiety but to keep us close to Him.

Jesus also advises us to stay ready, as the unexpected moment will arrive. This is not meant to cause panic, but to prevent delay.

“Almost ready” is dangerous because it feels close enough. But we don’t have to stay there.

Closeness to the kingdom is not the same as readiness for the kingdom. While the door is still open, it’s worth making sure.

Additional reading related to being prepared for Christ’s return.

Credits

AI Usage Credit: OpenAI helped create my article outlines and generate the imagery. Grammarly corrected my grammar and usage, and QuillBot improved my phrasing.

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