Can A Christian Drink Alcohol?

Note:  This is not my post, but one that was really interesting. Check it out and share your thoughts. 

-a.ced.a

CAN A CHRISTIAN DRINK ALCOHOL?

By Barry Cameron

September 19, 2012

Follow @BarryLCameron

On Monday night, news broke that Olympic gold medalist snowboarder, Shaun White, had been charged with vandalism and public intoxication. On my Facebook wall, I posted the following comment: “This just in . . . and the gold medal for character enhancement, once again, goes to alcohol.”

For years, well-meaning, sincere Christians have debated the subject of drinking. Let me be clear by saying there isn’t a single verse in the Bible that says a Christian cannot have a drink; although the Bible clearly warns about the destructive and addictive nature of alcohol (Proverbs 20:1; 21:17; 23:29-35; Ephesians 5:18) and is very clear that drunkenness is always wrong (Romans 13:13; Galatians 5:19-21; 1 Peter 4:3; Habakkuk 2:15; 1 Corinthians 5:11).

The Bible is also clear that mature Christians should avoid causing others to stumble by drinking (Romans 14:21), and that leaders ought to avoid drinking alcohol (Proverbs 31:4-7) and cannot be given to drunkenness (1 Timothy 3:3, 8 Titus 1:7.)

I have yet to hear from anyone who drinks how alcohol enhances anything or blesses anyone. Max Lucado said, “One thing for sure, I have never heard anyone say, ‘A beer makes me feel more Christlike . . . Fact of the matter is this: People don’t associate beer with Christian behavior.”1 I’ve yet to see how it improves someone’s testimony or makes anyone a more effective witness for Christ. Quite the contrary, like Shaun White mentioned above, or Richard Roberts, Oral Roberts’ son, who was arrested in Tulsa, Oklahoma, driving under the influence, the result doesn’t enhance your testimony. Rather, it takes away from what testimony you had.

Recently, a friend of mine, former mega-church Pastor, John Caldwell, wrote an article in Christian Standard magazine called To Drink or Not to Drink? Here’s the link to his article. John’s article explained why he has personally abstained from drinking alcohol and dealt with the bigger issue of the contemporary church becoming more and more like the world.

Not surprisingly, a number of people responded to John’s article and some called him to task for taking such a strong stand against drinking. In response to the responses, my good friend, Ken Idleman, former President of Ozark Christian College and now Pastor of Crossroads Christian Church in Evansville, IN, wrote these words, which are among the very best I’ve ever read on this issue. I asked Ken for his permission to share them here.

“Okay, I am conscience bound to weigh in on this one…. For a minute, forget about making a definitive case for or against ‘drinking’ from the Bible. Here’s the truth from logic and real life. No one starts out to be an alcoholic. Everyone begins with a defensive attitude saying, ‘I’m just a social drinker and there is nothing wrong with it!’ no one says, ‘It is my ambition that someday I want to lose my job, my health, my self-respect, my marriage and my family. Someday I want to be dependent on alcohol to get through my day.’ yet, this is the destination at which several millions of people have arrived. Why do you suppose that is? It is because alcohol is promoted and elevated as a normal/sophisticated activity in life…. It is also expensive, addictive and enslaving. People get hooked by America’s number one legal drug. And just like all illegal drugs, alcohol finds it way into the body, the bloodstream and the brain of the user/abuser.

I had two uncles whose lives were wrecked by alcohol. The exception you say? Hardly. It is not what they wanted when they dreamed of their futures when they were in their 20s. Praise God, they were wonderfully delivered in their 60s when the grace of God became real to them. And can you imagine it?…. They got their lives back by becoming total abstainers by the power of the Holy Spirit!

One of my most memorable conversations in the state penitentiary in Jefferson City, MO, was with a young man facing a 28-year prison sentence for the brutal sexual assault of his own 8-year old daughter. I will never forget the image. The tears literally ran off his chin and splashed on his shoes as he gushed, ‘I guess I did it. I don’t know. I was drunk at the time.’

Listen, some of those who are defensive in response to Dr. Caldwell’s thoughtful and courageous article will want to revise their text if, in a few years, they discover that they were able to handle their drinking just fine, but their son or daughter could not. Answer honestly. Could you live with the knowledge that your dangerous exercise of Christian liberty factored into your children’s ruin? Or, if your loved one is killed some day in a head on collision by a driver under the influence who crossed the center line, will you still be defensive of drinking?

A good friend during my growing up years was the only child of social drinking parents. When his folks were away, he would go to the rathskeller [German for tavern] in the basement where he developed a taste for alcohol. I won’t bore you with the details. He is 65 today. A broken life, broken health, broken marriages, a broken relationship with his only son, a broken relationship with his only grandchild, a broken career and a broken spirit that…. Tragically…. He tries daily to medicate with the alcohol that led him to this tragic destination.

Hey, thanks for indulging my rant. Like my friend John Caldwell, I confess to setting the bar high for Christian leadership [especially] when it comes to aesthetic holiness. Call me a ‘right-wing fundamentalist.’ Call me a ‘throw back to the days of the tent evangelists.’ Call me a ‘simpleton.’ Call me a ‘minimalist.’ but, if you do, go ahead and also call me a ‘watchman on the wall’ where the welfare of my family [children, in-laws, grandchildren] and my church family is concerned.”2

Personally, I’ve yet to have my first beer and have no desire to start now or to drink alcohol of any kind. At the same time, I don’t judge those who believe they have freedom in Christ to drink. But when asked, I always tell people I don’t believe it’s the best choice.

The bottom line is this: the question really isn’t CAN A CHRISTIAN DRINK? Rather, it is:SHOULD A CHRISTIAN DRINK?

© 2012. Barry L. Cameron

1 David Faust, Voices From The Hill, (Cincinnati, OH: Cincinnati Bible College & Seminary, 2003) 252.

2 John Caldwell, “To Drink or Not to Drink,” Christian Standard 11 August 2012, 18 September 2012.

It's A Hard Knock Life

When we are young, it is good to struggle hard and to sit silently alone,

if this is what the Lord intends. Being rubbed in the dirt can teach us a   lesson; we can also learn from insults and hard knocks. Lamentations 3:27-30

In 1998, rapper-turned-mogul Jay-Z released Volume 2...Hard Knock Life as the followup to the his classic debut album Reasonable Doubt, and the title track was called Hard Knock Life. It contained a sample from Annie - if you're scratching your head about who this precocious redheaded child is, perhaps you're too young - that goes like this:  It's a hard knock life for us, it's a hard knock life - for us. Instead of treated, we get tricked. Instead of kisses, we get kicked! It's a hard knock life. Regardless of who knocks us around - family, friends, co-workers, trolls, church folks - God does provide a plan to ease the burdens life bestows upon us. He also reminds us that this is only a season, so the temporal pain is not permanent contrary to popular belief.

In Lamentations, Isaiah the wailing prophet cries loudly not only for his own personal condition, but also that of Israel. His tears are akin to those shed upon receiving news of a death of a family member or close friend, reminding us that pain is a part of life we must endure. Is it fair that babies are stillborn when warmongers and rogue investors revel in one earthly victory after another? No. Nor is the expectation that once we all become Christians, life becomes Easy Street. In verses 27 and 28, the prophet indicates that it is good for young men to bear the yoke and take the lumps associated with life early so they can have something to look back on as a challenge met and subsequently conquered. There are times when it is better to remain silent about their travails - not everyone can understood the trouble in his eyes, much less empathize with him. For example, when a young couple breaks up, it is easy for one to trash the other person (trust me, I've done this) when he or she should look inward as they may have been the problem. Was she overbearing? Is he a mama's boy? Infidelity? Or did they simply drift apart? Any count, if the man does not heed the lesson, he may inevitably repeat it. It also means not eveything is for everybody. Don't let your valleys overshadow your peaks. 

Conversely, Isaiah finds a glimmer of hope through prayer (verse 29) and forgiveness (verse 30). When he is so down in his life, suicide is not seen as a viable escape, nor does he wallow in the pig sty of self-pity and destructive behavior. Instead, he prays! He's already been knocked down there, so why not pray? Having - or reestablishing - a relationship with God worth sustaining does not mean wail til he gets out of his situation and forget about Him; this is a series of conversations that evolve from ice breaker to a deep bond. Through prayer, he not only finds deliverance, but also a new best friend in God. 
Even in this life of hard knocks, we still learn to forgive. As the idea Dr. King once espoused of getting punched in the face and responding nonviolently by turning the other cheek shows a level of contempt toward his offender, the prophet implicitly censures his tormentor. For us, it could have been a fistfight of epic proportions. You can beat me, you can even kill me, but I forgive you. Although the American legal system is flawed against black men, history will one day prove that the antagonists will be revealed and paraded around a la Cersei Lannister in the end of Game of Thrones.

In times such as these, it is refreshing that God is just and fair despite the perception that no one cares as we are getting piled on. Trouble don't last always, no, no no. 

Mother's Day For the Childless Couple

Before you get too angry with me after reading this blog, allow me to explain the title. I’m not bitter by any means for not having any children yet (I still believe God’s Will to manifest itself when the time comes - AND ONLY THEN), but I’m not one to lessen the significance of the day. I am eternally grateful for the women in my family, particularly Grandma Dorothy, my own mom Karen, and mother-in-law Edna for giving the gift of life; without them, there certainly would be no us. I also am blessed to be part of some epically large families and super friends that love on their own children as well as each other. Thanks for being able to carry, nurture, parent, and give unconditional love even if those kids are getting on your final nerves, they still run to Mom as that superhero who fixes boo-boos and dinner alike.

My current beef with Mother’s Day is not the overzealous commercialization of the second Sunday in May, rather the manner in with it subjugates childless couples as lesser than those with children. Some of us are unintentionally reminded of that struggle with questions such as “what’s wrong?” “Ya shootin’ blanks?” When are y’all gonna start having kids?” “What are you waiting for?” and so forth. Admittedly, it is one area where we can stand to have a bit more faith in God’s program. People have even asked us about adoption – it’s great and all, I’m sure – but even that has become an industry within itself; I’d really rather go it the old-fashioned way. All I can do is trust God, for He knows what is best for Chastity and me.

In the Bible, stories of childless couples being rewarded in old age with healthy babies aim to encourage me except when they do not. Nothing against Sarah and Abraham and Zechariah and Elizabeth, but I want to be able to play with my child without having to stop every few minutes to catch my breath or pick him or her up without my back reminding me days later. I don’t want to burden then with having to care for elderly parents just as they start finding themselves as fully functioning adults either. But maybe this is my selfish desire. All I wanted to do was be prepared and able to provide a loving, stable home for my family and give my children every opportunity to succeed – note I did not say every pair of Air Jordan sneakers ever, nor a brand new car at sixteen or any of the extensive materialistic things out there. Again, my faith falls short because this is not how it is supposed to be – happily married in our mid-thirties and struggling to have our own family.

While people fawn over their own mothers – and I would do the same if I did not have to work this weekend – Mother’s Day becomes that day of frustration. Instead of the day keeping its original intent of showing our mothers/wives/sisters/grandmothers appreciation for carrying and giving birth to all of us, it has become a bit of a money grab. The radio is going to play 2Pac’s Dear Mama and Boyz II Men’s A Song For Mama all day long, and the floral industry will make a sizable chunk of profit. A few years ago, we decided that Mother’s Day would also become Punkin Day as a result of the isolation and unintended subjugation of being childless by well-meaning family members and friends. I would mail out Mother’s Day cards earlier in the week, make the obligatory phone calls on that day, and if I were fortunate enough to have the day off, go do something for her such as lunch at a good Japanese steakhouse and pedicure all in another day to display my love for Chastity my wife and best friend.

Sidebar: Punkin is my wife Chastity's nickname.

I recently posted an article on my Twitter page (@cedteaches) about the ten things you should NEVER say to childless friends, and this is the link. http://glo.msn.com/relationships/10-things-never-to-say-to-childless-friends-1534684.story 

Warning: The next time anyone dares to ask why we do not have children yet, I’m giving out knuckle sandwiches.

Arkansas, From My Eyes

I have a love/hate relationship with my home state.

I love the fact I took my first breath one December Sunday afternoon in Conway; 
I hate knowing my final breath will likely come in the state. 

As a fourth-generation Arkansan (who's counting?), I know we have roots
even so, I am still made to a second-class citizen in my own land.

I love the togetherness of family can ensure I can achieve anything;
I hate this place for my experienced father in management to be subjected to "boy" and assorted racist taunts by my ignorant contemporaries
I despise it as the place my inspirational mother toiled as a domestic, a la The Help.

Here in Arkansas, I describe my home to out-of-staters that beauty is found in the beholder - and a two hour drive in any direction.

To understand Arkansas is to hail from here:
The same person who voted for Bill Clinton because he's from Hope is the same one who hid himself behind a white sheet a generation ago.
The same state where progress is a four-letter word and yet the natives (allegedly) claim not to be racist.
Where the flagship university - which sixty percent of the residents were not accepted as students - demands only white quarterbacks start to satisfy the rabid fan base (and one percenters who serve as trustees) run off legendary black coaches proving a black man has to be twice as good to earn half the respect.
He's gotta keep his mouth shut, too.

I love the innovations such as Wal-Mart and Tyson, but hate the state's leadership as the ultimate right-to-work state. 

I love that we are ahead of West Virginia and Mississippi in educational attainment, but hate how far behind we are Maryland, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Vermont.

I love that five dollars can still get me a nice fried catfish dinner, yet loathe the same five dollars are pushing me one bite closer to an earlier grave.

I love Arkansas for Acxiom and Alltel, am disgusted by Stephens and Dillard and Hussman

Bangin' in the 'Rock to Evening Shade

the Delta and its fertile soil to Northwest Arkansas and its business powerhouse

Al Green to Johnny Cash

the metamorphosis of my town Bryant from sundown status to a diversifying burg

remembering the Klan speaks loudly - and cowardly - from Harrison, Alpena, and those other villages

I reminiscence over the Twista CD shaking the hinges off that country church due west of Gould

as well as the bigoted signs outside Clinton, Marshall, Paragould, Greenwood, Vilonia, Mena, or Donaldson telling me not to stop, not even for a bathroom break.

I am not a supporter of how we are treated in the media.

Not all black people are thugs and entertainers, 
and the short-term feelings of pride from seeing a news personality who looks like me no longer suffices.

I hope Mark cleans THV 11 out.

The other two major TV are no better.
Ditto for the statewide paper. 

I loved Conway, as it is the City of Colleges.
I hated it for the dearth of professional opportunities - 
interviewers see color before qualifications, even in 2014.
As a result, I only come home to visit my parents.

I am enamored of knowing people intimately from all walks of life.
I am troubled by the small minds that populate this small state.

I am amazed by the brilliant minds of some,
but disheartened by their lives in servitude. 

Why are our best and brightest stocking shelves or shaking fries?

I love Arkansas for all she is.
I hate the bitch for all of the aforementioned reasons.