What Happens When You Miss the Banquet — And Why It’s Not Too Late (Yet)

This is not just another blog post. This is not a rehearsal. This is the final trumpet blast before the door shuts. This is a direct appeal to the Bride of Christ—especially those living in the Great Basin Region, and even more specifically, St. George, Utah.

This message is for mature believers, the lukewarm, the skeptical, the devout, the wandering, and the weary. It’s for anyone with breath in their lungs and time left on the clock. There is still time—but not much.

This is a cry, a call, and a confrontation. A declaration that the King is coming. That the clock is ticking. That Heaven is not inviting you to a service—it’s calling you to a wedding. And the door will not stay open forever.

We are running out of time. The door to the Wedding Feast is about to close.

Two Consequences. One Decision.

The Rapture is not a fable. It is not symbolic. It is the next great move of God. Jesus is coming to gather His Bride—those found waiting, watching, and filled with oil. And when He comes, it will be in an instant.

“Because you have kept the word of My perseverance, I also will keep you from the hour of testing, that hour which is about to come upon the whole world, to test those who dwell on the earth.” Revelation 3:10

There will only be two outcomes:

Be raptured — caught up to meet the Lord in the air and enter the Wedding Feast of the Lamb.
Or be left behind — to endure the darkest, most devastating chapter in human history: the Great Tribulation.

There is no neutral zone. No fence to sit on. No “partial faith” plan. The door will either open for you—or close in your face.

“Now while they were going away to make the purchase, the groom came, and those who were ready went in with him to the wedding feast; and the door was shut.” Matthew 25:10

Once the door shuts, it does not reopen.

“Now while they were going away to make the purchase, the groom came, and those who were ready went in with him to the wedding feast; and the door was shut.” Matthew 25:10

Once the door shuts, it does not reopen.

“Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many rooms... I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I am coming again and will take you to Myself, so that where I am, there you also will be.” John 14:1–3

Every heart will face a choice. Every soul will live with the outcome. To the one who surrenders, confesses, repents, and receives Grace—eternal joy. To the one who delays or mocks—unspeakable horror.

It is time to prepare. Time to be found ready. Time to be filled with oil.

Heaven is not inviting you to survive. It is calling you to reign.

The King is coming.

Will you be ready?

The Five Wise and the Five Foolish Virgins - A Parable of Grace and Readiness

The parable Jesus told in Matthew 25 is not a quaint religious story—it is a prophetic warning wrapped in metaphor. Ten virgins. All invited. All waiting. All with lamps. But only five entered the wedding feast. Why?

Grace.

Five were wise because they carried extra oil—Grace in abundance. Their hearts were full, their lives were rooted in intimacy with Jesus. They didn’t rely on the crowd. They didn’t expect a last-minute refill. They lived ready.

“Then the kingdom of heaven will be comparable to ten virgins, who took their lamps and went out to meet the groom... Now while the groom was delaying, they all became drowsy and began to sleep. But at midnight there finally was a shout: ‘Behold, the groom! Come out to meet him.’” Matthew 25:1, 5-6

The five foolish virgins were not wicked by the world’s standards. They were not hostile. They were simply unprepared. Distracted. Dependent on others. And when the cry came at midnight, they realized their oil was gone.

“The foolish said to the prudent, ‘Give us some of your oil, because our lamps are going out.’ But the prudent ones answered, ‘No, there most certainly would not be enough for us and you too; go instead to the merchants and buy some for yourselves.’” Matthew 25:8–9

They ran to the oil dealers—the same religious system that had numbed them into complacency. But it was too late. They missed the wedding. They missed the Groom. They were locked out.

Grace cannot be borrowed. It cannot be bought in a crisis. It is received daily by abiding in the Word, praying in the Spirit, and surrendering to the will of the King.

This parable is not about how much you know—it’s about how much Grace you receive.

This parable is not about how loudly you sing—but how intimately you walk with Jesus.

You are responsible for your oil.

The lamp is your calling. The oil is Grace. The flame is your witness. And the vessel is your heart.

When Jesus returns, He’s not checking your title—He’s checking your oil.

So I ask you: How full is your flask?

The Horrors of Being Left Behind

They thought they had more time.

They thought church attendance was enough. They thought a lukewarm faith would carry them through. But in a flash, they were left behind. And what followed was not inconvenience—it was global, grinding terror.

It began with confusion. Then chaos. Then collapse.

Airplanes fell from the sky. Cars crashed into buildings. Governments panicked. Children vanished. Believers disappeared. But what came next was worse.

The restrainer—the Holy Spirit working through the Church—was gone. What was left was unfiltered evil. Pure darkness. Hell on earth.

A new leader emerged. Smooth. Charismatic. Promising peace and prosperity. He calmed the world’s fears. He was adored. But those who knew Scripture saw through the mask. He was the Beast. The Antichrist.

He demanded loyalty. Worship. Obedience. And then came the Mark.

No Mark? No food. No water. No medicine. No job. No life.

Those who resisted were hunted. Labeled enemies of the state. Arrested. Tortured. Executed. Beheadings returned—not in secret—but broadcasted as a spectacle. Christians were dragged into the streets, hanged on crosses, and burned alive. Their crime? Refusing to bow.

Then came the demons.

The bottomless pit was opened. Locust-like creatures—demonic, twisted, with stingers like scorpions and faces like men—were released. Their only assignment: torment. For five months they stung and stung and stung. And death fled. People tried to die but couldn’t.

The skies darkened. The seas turned to blood. The sun scorched the earth. Cities split apart. Mountains crumbled. Rivers dried. Disease ran wild. And still—people would not repent.

The world cursed God—and blamed the ones who were gone.

No worship music. No livestreams. No preachers. No altar calls. No second chances.

Only the memory of what was… and the agony of what now was.

There was no Grace—only wrath.

And those who came to faith during this time had to pay with their lives. They were hunted, beheaded, and buried in mass graves. But they died singing. They died believing. They died as overcomers.

The Lazarus Generation - Raised for Such a Time as This

We are the Lazarus Generation.

We are the ones Jesus is calling out of the tomb—still wrapped in grave clothes, still stinking of death, still blinking in the light of resurrection—but fully alive because the voice of our King has called us by name.

“When He had said these things, He cried out with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’ The man who had died came out, bound hand and foot with wrappings, and his face was wrapped around with a cloth. Jesus said to them, ‘Unbind him, and let him go.’” John 11:43–44

We’ve been dead—dead in religion, dead in compromise, dead in self-protection, dead in works-based righteousness. But now? Now we are rising. Because Jesus is standing at the tomb and He is shouting our name.

The Lazarus Generation is not polished. We are not perfect. But we are awake.

We are tired of grave clothes. Tired of empty religion. Tired of cold sermons, plastic smiles, and powerless preaching. We are shaking off the shroud. We are done with dead works and silent altars. We are hungry for the voice of the Master, and nothing less will do.

We love what Jesus loves, and we hate what Jesus hates.

We hate sin. All of it. Especially our own. We hate the counterfeit. We hate mixture. We hate the cancer of entitlementitis that has wrapped itself like a python around the Church, squeezing the life out of the Body of Christ.

We are not victims—we are the redeemed.

And we are rising to take our place.

We are the ones who cry out:

“Why are we not healing the sick?”
“Why are we not raising the dead?”
“Why are we not casting out every demon in Jesus’ name like He commanded?”

We are not chasing platforms—we are chasing purity. We are not looking to blend into culture—we are here to confront it.

The Lazarus Generation understands the stakes. We see the door about to shut. We know the King is returning. And we refuse to be asleep in this hour.

“Wake up, sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” Ephesians 5:14

We have a cancer diagnosis—and the treatment is revival.

The Lazarus Generation has had enough of powerless religion. We are done with tickled ears and starved spirits. We are calling each other out of the tomb, pulling off the grave clothes, washing each other in the Word, and standing in resurrection power.

We are not waiting for the church to accept us. We’re inviting the Bride to rise with us.

Because the One who loves us—the One who died and rose again—is standing at the door.

He’s knocking.

Will we open?

Or will we force Him to move on?

Before the Door Shuts - Surrender Now

There is still time. But not much.

You have read the signs. You’ve felt the urgency. The Spirit is bearing witness inside you right now. This is not a coincidence. This is not hype. This is holy. And it demands a response.

Don’t wait for one more sermon. Don’t wait for another invitation. Don’t wait for a more convenient season.

“Behold, now is ‘the acceptable time,’ behold, now is ‘the day of salvation.’” 2 Corinthians 6:2

The Bridegroom is coming. And when He comes, it will be sudden. Final. Eternal. There will be no time to go buy oil. No time to negotiate with the dealers. No time to run back and find what you should have stored.

This is the moment to surrender.

Fall on your face. Cry out to the Lord. Ask Him to fill your lamp with oil—Grace upon Grace—so that you may be counted among the wise. Ask Him to know you, and to make you ready.

“Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of My Father who is in heaven will enter. Many will say to Me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name...?’ And then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; leave Me, you who practice lawlessness.’” Matthew 7:21–23

Let that not be your story.

Let today be the day your name is written in the Lamb’s Book of Life—not because of your performance, but because of your surrender.

Let this be the day you get up off the couch, drop the excuses, and step into your IDENTITY and PURPOSE IN CHRIST.

You are not too far gone. You are not too broken. You are not too late.

But you will be—if you keep waiting.

Jesus is coming for a Bride without spot or wrinkle. Not because we are perfect—but because we are washed in His blood, clothed in His righteousness, and filled with His Spirit.

“And the Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come.’ And the one who hears say, ‘Come.’ And the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires, take the water of life without cost.” Revelation 22:17, NASB 1995

So come.

Come now.

Come with your sin. Come with your weariness. Come with your regrets.

And receive Grace.

Let your flask be filled. Let your lamp be lit. Let your eyes be opened.

And when the cry rings out at midnight…

The Invitation - A Call to Gather in St. George

This message has gone forth, but now it's time to act.

The cry has gone out. The warnings have been declared. The Bride is awakening. The oil is being poured out. The lamps are being lit.

And now—it's time to gather.

We are issuing a holy invitation: Join us in St. George, Utah, in May 2025. Not for a conference. Not for a production. Not for a platform.

For a banquet.

A real Feast of the Bride.

We will worship. We will repent. We will testify. We will pray. We will cry out for revival. We will sit at the feet of Jesus. And we will intercede as one people—one Body—under the banner of the soon-coming King.

This is not an event. It is a call.

If you’ve heard the Lord in this hour… if your heart is burning for more… if you know deep down that we are living on the edge of eternity… then this invitation is for you.

“Let us rejoice and be glad and give the glory to Him, because the marriage of the Lamb has come, and His bride has prepared herself.” Revelation 19:7

We are preparing a table—not just for a meal, but for a moment that marks us forever. We want to come together as the five wise virgins—lamps full, hearts aflame, eyes fixed on the One who is coming.

We are asking you: Will you come?

Will you bring your family, your fire, your hunger, and your prayers?

Will you join us on the sacred soil of the Great Basin to proclaim, “Jesus is Lord, and His Bride is ready!”

Sign up. Show up. Kneel down. Cry out.

Because the door is still open—but it won’t be for long.

Come to the Feast. Come and see. Come and meet King Jesus.

“Blessed are those who are invited to the wedding feast of the Lamb.” Revelation 19:9