Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol!

 You drank fine wine from the blood of grapes.

-Deuteronomy 32:14

            Wine is not all that good. At best, it taste like acetone. But I have to admit drinking wine makes a person look classy. My only reason for even trying to drink wine was based on my slight obsession, borderline idolatry, with C.S. Lewis.

            C.S. Lewis is basically my moral compass; he did it, therefore, I can do it—idolatry. I honestly don’t like alcohol. Thus, I don’t have the need to use the whole “Jesus drank wine” to justify an abnormal intake of alcoholic beverages*, but I still wanted to try to like wine. After all, if Jesus and C.S. Lewis both drank wine, then there must be something to it.

            Conclusion: There is nothing to it.

            I went to Basaam and had a glass (tiny, like I mean tiny; kid size) of what they called “dessert” (this term is used loosely in the wine world) wine. The woman was kind enough to let me taste it a little before having a glass. The small taste was good. But, just like sin, the wine only tasted good for a little bit and then it was just nasty.

            My dreams of liking wine died.

            People are lying about things being good when they add the phrase “it’s an acquired taste.” The phrase, in my opinion, is entirely condescending. It is basically, [read the following in an old southern woman accent), “Oh child, this here, is only enjoyable to someone who has drunk it for years. You don’t get it now, but you’ll get it soon.”

            “Acquired taste” really means: After days, months, years of torturing myself to drink this, I have finally trained myself to think that this taste/experience is enjoyable. Kind of like an assassin learning not feel bad about all the people he has killed. The assassin has acquired the taste for killing.

            My feelings for wine, and all alcoholic beverages are the same for coffee.

            I mean, one can cover poop with as many substances that one likes, but it will still be poop.

            Coffee tastes good with tons of creamer and sugar, basically creamer and sugar taste good, but we add coffee to feel better about our consumption of such unhealthy things.

            All drinks taste better without the alcohol in them.

            Thus, to grapes everywhere, I am sorry that your juices are fermented.

            And I arrive at the same conclusion as my friend Hallie, adults just  pretend wine tastes good.

            Therefore, if your drank taste bitter, then blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol!

*Jesus did indeed have wine, but he did not have Patron, mimosas, margaritas, or tequila shots. I’m not saying those things are bad, but the Jesus had wine excuse only covers so much ground. 

Neither Can Floods Drown Love

Many Waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it.

Song of Solomon 7:7

I hate to admit that all those May 21^st posters did eventually have an effect on me. After reading one everyday, I came to have many end-of-the-world nightmares, starting with zombie invasion dreams, which were thankfully replaced by flood dreams (floods I can deal with, but zombies are a continuous threat).

Adding to my end-of-the-world thoughts was Madeleine L'Engle's book Many Waters, which deals with the Story of Noah in contrast to the verse from Song of Solomon about love not being drowned by floods (written above).

In response to all this, I became very aware of my personal standing with God. I began to wonder whether I would have been counted amongst those in Noah’s ark or those drowned in the floods.

In one of my flood dreams, I found myself amongst those in the flood. I remember the fear of being drowned as I ran from the rising waters. In one instance I remember trying to climb to the top of a subway track that was above the waters. As I climbed I saw the waters approaching, threatening to take me with them. When I finally got to the top of whatever I was climbing, I realized I could not reach the tracks. Hopelessly, I reached out my arm knowing I had climbed in vain. Yet, my arm was caught by another arm, which pulled me up. To my surprise it was a young lady barely over five feet tall. She had long black hair and tan skin.

Then, my dream restarted from her perspective. She stood at a train station, waiting anxiously for her turn to purchase a ticket. She sensed the waters were going to come soon. She purchased the ticket and sure enough the earthquake came, which gave her more of an incentive to speed up. She made her way up to the tracks, not wasting a second. I remember trying to urge her to hurry as I witnessed everything, knowing that my life depended on her timing. Sure enough she arrived and pulled me up. I survived the flood.

I woke up feeling reassured as I recalled the instance when the arm grabbed me from above. The arm was strong. I was surprised at the fact that i had not flinched or even slightly jerked my arm back. I felt safe the second I was touched.

After that dream, I was no longer fearful of the impending doom that those billboards foretold. I had the reassuring feeling that God had his watchful eye on me. After all, “Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it.”