FAITH & CULTURE PROJECT: Can Christians Drink?

Introduction

Few questions generate more debate among evangelicals than whether Christians should drink alcohol. For some, the answer is an emphatic no—total abstinence is the only safe and godly path. For others, moderate consumption is not only permissible but a celebration of God’s good gifts. This division however is relatively modern. For most of Christian history, across , wine (and beer) were accepted parts of daily life and religious practice. The of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries dramatically reshaped American evangelical attitudes, making abstinence the default position in many circles. For many, this raises an important question: Is really the biblical position, or have we allowed this cultural movement to obscure what Scripture actually teaches?

This essay argues that Christians can drink alcohol in moderation without sinning. Far from being a concession to worldliness, moderate drinking reflects a , celebration, and the incarnational goodness of God’s gifts. Wine appears throughout Scripture not as a dangerous vice to be avoided, but as a blessing that “gladdens the heart of man” (). Jesus himself drank wine and made it the central element of the . At the same time, Scripture is unambiguous in its condemnation of drunkenness and excess. The biblical position is neither license nor legalism, but liberty paired with wisdom, self-control, and love for neighbor.

Understanding what Scripture teaches about alcohol also illuminates broader questions about how Christians should relate to God’s physical creation. By examining alcohol through a biblical lens—considering both its proper use and its abuses—we gain insight into a theology of enjoyment, stewardship, and the difference between substances that gladden the heart and those that deaden it. This distinction becomes important when comparing alcohol to other substances, such as marijuana, which operate on fundamentally different principles.

The Biblical Case for Drinking

Wine as God’s Gift in the Old Testament

To understand what Scripture teaches about alcohol, we must begin where the Bible itself begins: with the doctrine of creation. The opening chapters of Genesis establish that God created the physical world and declared it “very good” (). This goodness extends to the plants, fruits, and yes, the fermented beverages that human beings would inevitably learn to produce from God’s creation. Scripture treats wine accordingly—not as a man-made concession to human weakness or a dangerous element that somehow slipped past divine oversight, but as one of God’s intentional gifts to mankind.

Psalm 104 offers one of the most beautiful meditations on God’s providential care for His creation. The psalmist marvels at how God provides food and drink for every living creature, and in verse 14-15 he writes: “He causes the grass to grow for the cattle, and vegetation for the service of man, that he may bring forth food from the earth, and wine that makes glad the heart of man, oil to make his face shine, and bread which strengthens man’s heart.” Notice the structure of this passage. Wine appears in a triad with oil and bread—three fundamental provisions of daily life in . Just as bread strengthens and oil beautifies, wine gladdens. This is not grudging permission but positive celebration. Wine is numbered among the basic provisions that God gives to sustain and bless human life.

The Hebrew word translated “makes glad” (samach) carries connotations of joy, delight, and celebration. Wine is not merely tolerated; it serves a God-given purpose: to bring gladness to the human heart. This is a remarkable claim. God could have created a world where only water quenched thirst and only bread satisfied hunger. Instead, He created a world rich with variety, flavor, and yes, mild intoxicants that produce joy and celebration. This tells us something profound about God’s character—He is not a cosmic killjoy but a generous Father who delights in the happiness of His children.

Throughout the Old Testament, wine appears consistently as a sign of God’s blessing and abundance. When Moses describes the Promised Land to the Israelites, he portrays it as a place flowing with agricultural richness: “a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive oil and honey” (Deuteronomy 8:8). The vine is one of the defining features of the land of blessing. Later, when Moses outlines the blessings that will follow obedience to God’s covenant, he includes this promise: “He will love you and bless you and multiply you; He will also bless the fruit of your womb and the fruit of your land, your grain and your new wine and your oil” (Deuteronomy 7:13). Wine is not peripheral to God’s blessing—it is named explicitly alongside grain and oil as evidence of divine favor.

Similarly, the book of Proverbs connects wine with the abundance that follows wisdom and generosity. In Proverbs 3:9-10, we read: “Honor the Lord with your possessions, and with the firstfruits of all your increase; so your barns will be filled with plenty, and your vats will overflow with new wine.” The overflowing wine vat is a picture of prosperity and divine blessing. To lack wine, conversely, was often a sign of judgment or hardship. The prophet Joel describes God’s judgment on Israel in terms of agricultural devastation: “The field is wasted, the land mourns; for the grain is ruined, the new wine is dried up, the oil fails” (Joel 1:10). Wine’s presence signifies blessing; its absence signifies curse.

Beyond its role in daily life, wine held an important place in Israel’s worship and religious festivals. The Mosaic Law prescribed wine as part of the drink offerings that accompanied many sacrifices. Numbers 15:5-10 gives detailed instructions for drink offerings, specifying that wine should be poured out to the Lord as part of the burnt offerings and sacrifices. God not only tolerated wine but prescribed and ordered its use in the sacred rituals that brought His people into His presence.

Wine also featured prominently in Israel’s festivals and celebrations. The three great pilgrimage festivals—Passover, Pentecost (Feast of Weeks), and the Feast of Tabernacles (or Booths) —were times of feasting and rejoicing, and wine was central to these celebrations. Deuteronomy 14:22-26 gives instructions for the festival tithe, and verse 26 is particularly striking: “And you shall spend that money for whatever your heart desires: for oxen or sheep, for wine or similar drink, for whatever your heart desires; you shall eat there before the Lord your God, and you shall rejoice, you and your household.” Here God explicitly permits—even encourages—His people to purchase wine for the purpose of celebration and rejoicing in His presence. This is worship that includes wine, not despite God’s holiness, but in accordance with His design.

The Old Testament picture of wine is overwhelmingly positive. Yes, there are warnings about excess and drunkenness, which we will examine later. But the biblical theology is clear: wine is a gift from God, a sign of His blessing, a means of gladness, and an appropriate element in worship and celebration. Any Christian theology of alcohol must begin here, with the recognition that wine is woven into the fabric of God’s good creation and His covenant relationship with His people.

Jesus and Wine in the New Testament

If the Old Testament establishes wine as a gift from God, the New Testament confirms and elevates this truth through the person and ministry of Jesus Christ. Far from distancing Himself from wine or treating it with suspicion, Jesus embraced it, blessed it, and made it central to the most sacred ordinance/sacrament of the Christian faith. The —God becoming flesh and dwelling among us—means that Jesus participated fully in human life, including its meals, celebrations, and yes, its wine. To understand what Christians should believe about alcohol, we must look carefully at what Jesus himself did and taught.

Jesus’s First Miracle: Turning Water into Wine

Jesus performed His first public miracle at a wedding feast in , and significantly, it involved wine. John records the account in his second chapter. The wedding celebration was underway when the hosts ran out of wine—a social disaster that would have brought shame on the family. Jesus’s mother brought the problem to Him, and after initially demurring, Jesus acted. He instructed the servants to fill six stone water pots, each containing twenty or thirty gallons, with water. Then He told them, “Draw some out now, and take it to the master of the feast” (John 2:8). When the master of the feast tasted it, he was astonished: “Every man at the beginning sets out the good wine, and when the guests have well drunk, then the inferior. You have kept the good wine until now!” (John 2:10).

This miracle is remarkable on several levels. First, Jesus didn’t merely provide wine—He provided abundant wine. Six water pots of twenty to thirty gallons each means Jesus created somewhere between 120 and 180 gallons of wine for a celebration that had already been drinking. This was no meager provision but lavish generosity. Second, it was exceptionally good wine. The master of the feast noted its superior quality, suggesting that Jesus’s wine was better than what had been served at the beginning when guests’ palates were freshest. Third, and most importantly, John tells us that this miracle “manifested His glory.” The very first sign that revealed Jesus’s divine glory was the transformation of water into wine—not for necessity, but for celebration and joy.

Some have attempted to argue that the wine Jesus made was unfermented grape juice, but this interpretation collapses under scrutiny. The Greek word used is oinos, which consistently means fermented wine throughout ancient Greek literature. Moreover, the master of the feast’s comment only makes sense if the wine could cause intoxication—he notes that hosts typically serve inferior wine “when the guests have well drunk,” a clear reference to the dulling of taste that comes with drinking. Most tellingly, if Jesus had simply made grape juice, there would be nothing remarkable about the master’s praise of keeping “the good wine” until last (the good grape juice until last?). The miracle’s significance lies precisely in Jesus providing genuine, high-quality wine as an act of blessing and celebration.

Jesus the Winebibber

Jesus didn’t merely make wine for others; He drank it Himself. This fact became a point of criticism from His opponents. In Matthew 11:18-19, Jesus contrasts His ministry with that of : “For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a winebibber, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ But wisdom is justified by her children.” The accusation that Jesus was a “winebibber” (literally, a wine-drinker) would make no sense if Jesus only drank grape juice or abstained entirely. His enemies criticized Him precisely because He participated in the normal social customs of His day, which included drinking wine at meals and celebrations.

Jesus’s response is instructive. He doesn’t deny the charge or defend Himself by claiming He only drank unfermented beverages. Instead, He points out the absurdity of His critics’ position: they condemned John for his asceticism and Jesus for His participation in normal life. No matter what approach the prophets took, the religious leaders found fault. Jesus’s point is that “wisdom is justified by her children”—the proof of His ministry would be found in its fruit, not in conforming to the arbitrary dietary standards set by the . By calling Himself the “Son of Man” who came “eating and drinking,” Jesus affirms His full participation in human culture and celebration.

This pattern runs throughout the Gospels. Jesus attended feasts and banquets regularly. He was criticized for celebrating when the Pharisees thought He should be fasting. He used banquet imagery repeatedly in His parables about the kingdom of God. Jesus was no ascetic; He embraced the goodness of God’s creation, including food and wine, as part of His ministry of bringing abundant life.

The Institution of the Lord’s Supper

The most profound moment involving wine in Jesus’s ministry came at the Last Supper, when He instituted what would become the central sacrament of Christian worship. Matthew records: “And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to the disciples and said, ‘Take, eat; this is My body.’ Then He took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, ‘Drink from it, all of you. For this is My blood of the , which is shed for many for the remission of sins. But I say to you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in My Father’s kingdom’” (Matthew 26:26–29).

Jesus chose wine—not water, not grape juice, but wine—to represent His blood poured out for the forgiveness of sins. This choice was deliberate and theologically rich. Wine, with its red color and its association with joy and celebration, became the sign of the new covenant. Throughout church history, from the earliest Christian communities to the present day, Christians have continued to use wine in communion, following Jesus’s own practice and command. The fact that Jesus made wine the perpetual sign of His atoning death elevates it beyond mere permissibility to sacred significance.

Furthermore, Jesus’s final words about the cup look forward to the : “I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in My Father’s kingdom.” The consummation of all things, the great wedding feast of the Lamb, will include wine. Heaven itself is pictured as a celebration where Christ and His people drink wine together in the Father’s kingdom. This is not a concession to ancient cultural norms but a window into God’s own vision of perfect joy and fellowship.

New Wine and New Wineskins

Jesus also used wine imagery in His teaching about the newness of His kingdom. In Matthew 9:16-17, He says: “No one puts a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment; for the patch pulls away from the garment, and the tear is made worse. Nor do they put new wine into old wineskins, or else the wineskins break, the wine is spilled, and the wineskins are ruined. But they put new wine into new wineskins, and both are preserved.” Jesus assumes His audience’s familiarity with winemaking—they would know that new wine, still fermenting, produces gases that would burst old, brittle wineskins. The point of the parable is about the incompatibility of the new covenant with the old religious structures, but the imagery itself is instructive. Jesus speaks naturally and positively about wine and winemaking, using it as an apt metaphor for spiritual truth.

The cumulative testimony of Jesus’s life and ministry is overwhelming. He made wine as His first miracle, revealing His glory. He drank wine freely, despite criticism from religious leaders. He chose wine to represent His covenant blood. He promised to drink wine again in the kingdom of God. And He used wine imagery to teach about the nature of His kingdom. For Christians to treat wine as inherently dangerous or sinful, therefore, is to reject the pattern that Jesus Himself established. Christ’s example calls us not to abstinence but to grateful, wise, and celebratory enjoyment of God’s gifts—including the gift of wine that gladdens the heart.

Apostolic Teaching on Wine

If Jesus’s example establishes the permissibility of wine, the confirm and apply this teaching to the life of the early church. The epistles, written to guide believers in diverse cultural contexts across the Roman Empire, provide clear instruction on alcohol: Christians are free to drink, but they must never become drunk. This distinction—between use and abuse, between liberty and license—runs consistently through apostolic teaching. The New Testament writers inherited the Old Testament’s positive view of wine as God’s gift while maintaining equally strong prohibitions against drunkenness and excess.

Paul’s Advice to Timothy: Wine as Medicine

One of the most revealing passages about apostolic attitudes toward wine appears in Paul’s first letter to Timothy. While giving instructions about church leadership and conduct, Paul includes this brief but significant directive: “No longer drink only water, but use a little wine for your stomach’s sake and your frequent infirmities” (1 Timothy 5:23).

This verse is remarkable for what it assumes and what it reveals. First, it shows that Timothy had been abstaining from wine, drinking “only water.” Whether this was due to personal conviction, a desire to set a rigorous example as a young leader, or some other reason, Paul doesn’t explain. What matters is Paul’s response: he encourages Timothy to use wine, specifically for medicinal purposes. In the ancient world, wine was recognized for its digestive and antiseptic properties. Mixed with water, it was safer than drinking water alone, which was often contaminated. Paul’s advice is practical and pastoral—he cares about Timothy’s physical health and knows that wine can serve a therapeutic purpose.

But notice what Paul does not say. He doesn’t warn Timothy about the dangers of alcohol. He doesn’t express concern that drinking wine might cause Timothy to stumble or damage his testimony. He doesn’t suggest that leaders should abstain even if ordinary believers may drink. Instead, he matter-of-factly recommends wine as a sensible remedy for Timothy’s ailments. This casual, positive reference to wine reveals the apostolic church’s comfortable acceptance of wine as part of ordinary life. If wine were inherently problematic or dangerous, Paul would hardly recommend it to a young pastor struggling with health issues.

The phrase “use a little wine” is also instructive. Paul isn’t advocating heavy drinking or using wine primarily for intoxication. The word “little” (Greek oligos) suggests moderation. Wine is a tool for health, to be used appropriately, not a means of escape or excess. This balanced approach—affirming wine’s legitimate uses while implying measured consumption—characterizes apostolic teaching throughout the New Testament.

Wine in the Ordinary Life of the Early Church

Beyond this specific medical advice, the New Testament reflects a church culture where wine was simply part of daily life. The Lord’s Supper, celebrated regularly in early Christian gatherings, included wine. When Paul addresses problems in the Corinthian church’s communion meals, he doesn’t criticize the presence of wine but rather the abuse of it and the lack of care for poorer members. In 1 Corinthians 11:21, he rebukes them: “For in eating, each one takes his own supper ahead of others; and one is hungry and another is drunk.” The problem wasn’t that wine was present at their fellowship meals, but that some were getting drunk while others went hungry—a failure of love and community, not an indictment of wine itself.

Similarly, when Paul lists qualifications for church leaders in 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1, he doesn’t require abstinence from alcohol. Instead, he requires that overseers and deacons be “not given to wine” (1 Timothy 3:3), “not given to much wine” (1 Timothy 3:8), and “not given to wine” (Titus 1:7). The Greek phrase paroinos (literally “beside wine”) suggests someone who lingers too long at wine, who is controlled by it, or who drinks to excess. The qualification is not teetotalism but temperance. Church leaders must not be drunkards or controlled by alcohol, but moderate drinking is not disqualifying. In fact, the very wording of these requirements assumes that wine-drinking was normal and accepted—what mattered was whether one’s drinking was temperate and under control.

The early church lived in a Greco-Roman world where wine was ubiquitous. It was served at meals, used in religious ceremonies (both pagan and Christian), and formed a basic part of the Mediterranean diet. The apostles didn’t attempt to extract Christians from this culture or create a separatist community that abstained from common cultural practices. Instead, they taught believers to participate in their culture wisely, to enjoy God’s gifts gratefully, and to avoid the excesses and sins that characterized pagan society.

No Prohibition on Drinking, Only on Drunkenness

The consistent pattern throughout the apostolic writings is clear permission to drink coupled with absolute prohibition of drunkenness. Paul writes to the Ephesians: “And do not be drunk with wine, in which is dissipation; but be filled with the Spirit” (Ephesians 5:18). The command is not “do not drink wine” but “do not be drunk with wine.” The contrast Paul draws is between being controlled by alcohol (which leads to dissipation, wastefulness, and ruin) and being filled with the Holy Spirit (which leads to worship, thanksgiving and joy).

This same distinction appears in Paul’s list of the works of the flesh in Galatians 5:19-21: “Now the works of the flesh are evident, which are: adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lewdness, idolatry, sorcery, hatred, contentions, jealousies, outbursts of wrath, selfish ambitions, dissensions, heresies, envy, murders, drunkenness, revelries, and the like; of which I tell you beforehand, just as I also told you in time past, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.” Drunkenness appears alongside serious sins like murder, idolatry, and sexual immorality. It is a work of the flesh that excludes one from the kingdom of God. But again, the sin is drunkenness—the state of being controlled by alcohol—not drinking itself.

Peter similarly warns believers: “For we have spent enough of our past lifetime in doing the will of the Gentiles—when we walked in lewdness, lusts, drunkenness, revelries, drinking parties, and abominable idolatries” (1 Peter 4:3). The Christian life requires leaving behind the drunkenness and wild parties that characterized pagan culture, but notice that Peter doesn’t condemn all drinking or all social gatherings—he condemns excess, loss of control, and the idolatrous context in which much ancient drinking occurred.

The apostolic position can be summarized simply: Wine is a gift from God that Christians are free to enjoy. It serves legitimate purposes—celebration, fellowship, even medicine. But like all of God’s gifts, it must be used rightly. Drunkenness is always sinful because it represents loss of self-control, poor stewardship of the body, and vulnerability to further sin. The Christian calling is not to abstinence but to temperance—to enjoying wine gratefully and moderately while maintaining sobriety and self-control.

This apostolic teaching provides the theological foundation for Christian liberty regarding alcohol. We are free to drink because Scripture permits it and Jesus modeled it. We are commanded not to get drunk because drunkenness dishonors God, harms the body, and damages our witness. Between these two poles—liberty and license, freedom and excess—Christians must walk carefully, guided by wisdom, love for neighbor, and the Spirit’s control rather than alcohol’s control.

Principles for Responsible Christian Freedom

Having established that Christians are biblically permitted to drink alcohol in moderation, we must now address how to exercise this freedom responsibly. Christian liberty is never absolute or autonomous. We are free in Christ, but our freedom exists within a framework of love for God and neighbor, wisdom about our own weaknesses, and witness to the watching world. The same Scripture that grants permission to drink also provides principles for when and how to drink—and when not to drink at all. These principles prevent liberty from becoming license and ensure that our freedom serves others rather than harming the body of Christ.

Liberty and Love (Romans 14)

The most comprehensive biblical treatment of Christian freedom in disputable matters appears in Romans 14. Paul addresses a specific controversy in the Roman church about food and holy days, but his principles apply directly to any issue—including alcohol—where sincere Christians disagree about what is permissible. Paul writes: “Receive one who is weak in the faith, but not to disputes over doubtful things. For one believes he may eat all things, but he who is weak eats only vegetables. Let not him who eats despise him who does not eat, and let not him who does not eat judge him who eats; for God has received him” (Romans 14:1-3).

Paul identifies two groups: the “strong” (those who understand their freedom in Christ) and the “weak” (those whose consciences are troubled by certain practices). The thing to see is that Paul doesn’t condemn the weak or tell them to simply get over their scruples. Instead, he commands both groups to receive one another without judgment or contempt. The strong must not despise the weak for their restrictions, and the weak must not judge the strong for their freedom. Both are serving the Lord according to their conscience, and “God has received him.”

Paul himself identifies with the strong. He clearly states his conviction: “I know and am convinced by the Lord Jesus that there is nothing unclean of itself; but to him who considers anything to be unclean, to him it is unclean” (Romans 14:14). Paul’s position is that foods (and by extension, drinks) are not inherently defiling. Wine is not sinful in itself. However—and this is crucial—Paul immediately qualifies this freedom with the law of love: “Yet if your brother is grieved because of your food, you are no longer walking in love. Do not destroy with your food the one for whom Christ died” (Romans 14:15).

Here is the heart of Christian ethics regarding disputable matters. You may have the right to drink, but if exercising that right causes a weaker brother to stumble—either by violating his conscience or by leading him into sin—then love demands that you abstain. Paul states this principle even more forcefully: “It is good neither to eat meat nor drink wine nor do anything by which your brother stumbles or is offended or is made weak” (Romans 14:21). Notice that Paul explicitly mentions wine. He’s not saying wine is sinful; he’s saying that if drinking wine causes your brother to stumble, don’t drink it in that situation.

What does it mean to cause someone to stumble? Paul clarifies in verse 23: “But he who doubts is condemned if he eats, because he does not eat from faith; for whatever is not from faith is sin.” If a weaker brother, seeing your freedom, acts against his own conscience and drinks wine while believing it’s wrong, he sins—not because drinking is wrong, but because he’s violated his conscience. You have participated in his sin by emboldening him to act against his faith. This is what it means to be a stumbling block.

However, we must be careful not to misapply this principle. Paul is not saying that the strong must never drink wine simply because someone, somewhere might disapprove. The “weaker brother” Paul describes is a genuine believer whose conscience is troubled and who might be led into sin by your example—not merely someone who disagrees with your choices or who is offended by Christian liberty. If we interpreted Romans 14 to mean that Christians must abstain from anything that anyone finds objectionable, we would end up unable to do virtually anything at all.

The principle is relational and situational. When you’re with brothers and sisters whose consciences are weak on this issue, when your drinking might lead them into sin against their conscience, when love and edification require it—then abstain. But this doesn’t mean universal abstinence any more than Paul’s discussion of meat sacrificed to idols meant Christians should become vegetarians. It means that love sometimes requires us to forgo our rights for the sake of others.

Paul concludes the chapter with this summary: “Therefore let us pursue the things which make for peace and the things by which one may edify another” (Romans 14:19). The question is not merely “May I do this?” but “Does this build up my brother? Does this promote peace and unity in the church?” Sometimes the loving choice is to drink freely with those who share your freedom. Sometimes the loving choice is to abstain with those who would be troubled by your drinking. Wisdom and love, not rigid rules, must guide our decisions.

The only exception would be when the weaker brother begins to control the practices of a local church and its leadership. The unity and edification of the whole church body must take precedence over individual convictions when those convictions begin to limit the freedom of others unjustly. This is why some churches that use wine in the Lord’s Supper will offer grape juice to those with scruples concerning it, but will not eliminate the use of wine altogether.

Wisdom and Self-Control

Beyond our responsibility to others, we have a responsibility to ourselves. Christian freedom must be exercised with clear-eyed wisdom about our own vulnerabilities, limitations, and tendencies. Not everyone can or should drink alcohol, even if it’s biblically permissible, because not everyone can do so safely or wisely. I once knew a guy that had to stop drinking altogether because he couldn’t control himself. He was arrested multiple times, including several times for taking his clothes off in public.

Scripture repeatedly emphasizes the importance of self-knowledge and self-control. Proverbs 4:23 instructs us: “Keep your heart with all diligence, for out of it spring the issues of life.” This requires honest assessment of our own weaknesses. Some people have a family history of alcoholism. Others have personally struggled with alcohol abuse in the past. Still others recognize in themselves addictive tendencies or difficulty with moderation. For some individuals, abstinence may be the only wise choice.

Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 6:12: “All things are lawful for me, but all things are not helpful. All things are lawful for me, but I will not be brought under the power of any.” This is a crucial principle. Even if drinking is permissible, it may not be beneficial for you. And if you find yourself unable to drink moderately, if alcohol begins to control you rather than you controlling it, then you should abstain—not because drinking is sinful, but because you personally cannot drink without sinning through excess or loss of self-control.

This principle applies especially to those in church leadership. As we noted earlier, Paul requires that overseers and deacons not be “given to wine.” The Greek phrase suggests someone controlled by alcohol, someone who cannot manage their drinking responsibly. Leaders must model self-control and wisdom. If a leader struggles with alcohol, or if drinking—even moderately—would damage his credibility or witness in his particular context, then abstinence is necessary. The call to be “above reproach” (1 Timothy 3:2) means that leaders must consider not only what is permissible but what is wise and edifying given their position of influence.

Family history matters too. If alcoholism runs in your family, you carry a genetic and environmental vulnerability that makes drinking risky. Wisdom might dictate abstinence even if you’ve never personally struggled, because the risk of developing dependency is heightened. This isn’t legalism; it’s prudence. Proverbs 22:3 says, “A prudent man foresees evil and hides himself, but the simple pass on and are punished.” Choosing not to drink because you recognize your vulnerability is an act of wisdom, not weakness.

None of this contradicts the biblical permission to drink. It simply recognizes that Christian liberty is not one-size-fits-all. What is freedom for one person might be bondage for another. What is celebration for one might be temptation for another. Each Christian must examine himself honestly, know his limits, and make decisions accordingly. And those who abstain for reasons of personal wisdom or vulnerability should feel no shame and no pressure to drink. Christian maturity includes knowing when to exercise your freedom and when to refrain.

Cultural Context and Witness

Finally, Christian freedom regarding alcohol must be exercised with awareness of cultural context and concern for witness. We do not live in a vacuum. Our choices communicate to the watching world, and we have a responsibility to consider how our behavior appears to unbelievers and young believers.

First and most obviously, Christians must obey the law. Romans 13:1 commands: “Let every soul be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and the authorities that exist are appointed by God.” If the law sets a minimum drinking age, Christians must respect it. If certain contexts legally prohibit alcohol, Christians must comply. Biblical permission to drink does not override legal restrictions. A teenager may argue that Scripture permits drinking, but until he reaches legal age, he is commanded by Scripture to obey the authorities God has placed over him. The only exceptions would be states that grant a religious exemption (or require a special license) for churches that use wine during the Lord’s Supper.

Beyond legal considerations, Christians must be mindful of their witness. Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 10:31-33: “Therefore, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God. Give no offense, either to the Jews or to the Greeks or to the church of God, just as I also please all men in all things, not seeking my own profit, but the profit of many, that they may be saved.” Our eating and drinking—including our consumption of alcohol—should glorify God and avoid giving unnecessary offense.

What does this mean practically? It means considering your context. In some cultures and communities, any alcohol consumption by Christians is scandalous and damages gospel witness. In such contexts, even though you have biblical freedom to drink, love and wisdom might dictate abstinence. Missionaries often abstain from alcohol in cultures where it would create barriers to the gospel. Pastors in certain communities might choose not to drink publicly, even if they enjoy wine privately, because the potential harm to their witness outweighs the value of exercising their freedom.

This doesn’t mean we should be enslaved to others’ opinions or let legalists dictate our behavior. Paul himself drank wine and defended Christian freedom vigorously. But it does mean that we should be shrewd and thoughtful about when and where we exercise our liberty.

Paul’s principle in 1 Corinthians 6:12 applies here too: “All things are lawful for me, but all things are not helpful. All things are lawful for me, but I will not be brought under the power of any.” The second half of this verse is particularly important for our cultural witness. We must never become enslaved to alcohol—or to any substance or practice. If we cannot imagine a meal without wine, if we feel compelled to drink in every social situation, if alcohol has become a necessity rather than an occasional pleasure, then we have allowed ourselves to be “brought under the power” of something other than Christ.

Our freedom regarding alcohol should never become bondage. We should be able to drink gratefully when appropriate and abstain cheerfully when wisdom or love requires it. This flexibility, this freedom from addiction and compulsion, is itself a powerful testimony. It shows that we enjoy God’s gifts without being controlled by them, that we can celebrate without excess, and that our joy ultimately comes not from wine but from Christ.

Christian freedom regarding alcohol, therefore, requires wisdom. It requires love that considers others, self-knowledge that recognizes personal limits, and cultural awareness that protects our witness. We are free to drink, but we are not free to drink carelessly, selfishly, or destructively. The same gospel that liberates us from legalism also liberates us from license. We are free—free to enjoy God’s gifts wisely, free to abstain when love requires it, and above all, free to live not under the control of alcohol but under the joyful lordship of Jesus Christ.

Wine That Reveals vs. Wine That Conceals: A Comparison with Marijuana

Having established that Christians are biblically free to drink alcohol in moderation; we must now address a contemporary question: Does this permission extend to other substances, particularly marijuana? As legalization spreads, Christians increasingly ask whether the biblical principles permitting wine also allow cannabis. This chapter argues that they do not—wine and marijuana operate on distinctly different principles and produce profoundly different effects. The distinction lies not in legal status or cultural acceptance but in what these substances do and why God gave wine as a gift.

Chesterton’s Distinction: Wine That Reveals vs. Wine That Shuts Out the Universe

, in his book Heretics, provides the philosophical framework we need to understand this distinction. Writing about ’s Rubaiyat and its influence on English literature, Chesterton identifies two profoundly different approaches to drinking wine. His analysis, though written over a century ago, illuminates the difference between substances that gladden the heart and substances that deaden pain.

Chesterton begins by noting that many argue wine should only be used medicinally—a position he rejects with characteristic vigor:

“A new morality has burst upon us with some violence in connection with the problem of strong drink; and enthusiasts in the matter range from the man who is violently thrown out at 12:30, to the lady who smashes American bars with an axe. In these discussions it is almost always felt that one very wise and moderate position is to say that wine or such stuff should only be drunk as a medicine. With this I should venture to disagree with a peculiar ferocity. The one genuinely dangerous and immoral way of drinking wine is to drink it as a medicine. And for this reason. If a man drinks wine in order to obtain pleasure, he is trying to obtain something exceptional, something he does not expect every hour of the day, something which, unless he is a little insane, he will not try to get every hour of the day. But if a man drinks wine in order to obtain health, he is trying to get something natural; something, that is, that he ought not to be without; something that he may find it difficult to reconcile himself to being without.”

Chesterton’s point is this: drinking for pleasure is self-limiting because pleasure is occasional and exceptional. But drinking to feel normal—to achieve health or to escape unhappiness—is insidious because it makes the substance necessary rather than celebratory. This leads to his critique of Omar Khayyam:

“A pensive and graceful Oriental lies under the rose-tree with his wine-pot and his scroll of poems. It may seem strange that anyone’s thoughts should, at the moment of regarding him, fly back to the dark bedside where the doctor doles out brandy. It may seem stranger still that they should go back to the grey wastrel shaking with gin in Houndsditch. But a great philosophical unity links the three in an evil bond. Omar Khayyam’s wine-bibbing is bad, not because it is wine-bibbing. It is bad, and very bad, because it is medical wine-bibbing. It is the drinking of a man who drinks because he is not happy. His is the wine that shuts out the universe, not the wine that reveals it. It is not poetical drinking, which is joyous and instinctive; it is rational drinking, which is as prosaic as an investment, as unsavoury as a dose of camomile.”

Here is the crucial distinction: wine that shuts out the universe versus wine that reveals it. Omar drinks to escape reality, to numb himself to life’s meaninglessness. This is drinking as medicine, as anesthetic, as a coping mechanism. It stands in stark contrast to what Chesterton calls “poetical drinking”—joyous, instinctive, celebratory drinking that enhances rather than obscures reality.

Chesterton drives this point home with a powerful comparison to Christian drinking:

“‘Wine,’ says the Scripture, ‘maketh glad the heart of man,’ but only of the man who has a heart. The thing called high spirits is possible only to the spiritual. —Ultimately, a man can enjoy nothing except religion. Once in the world’s history men did believe that the stars were dancing to the tune of their temples, and they danced as men have never danced since. With this old pagan eudaemonism the sage of the Rubaiyat has quite as little to do as he has with any Christian variety. He is no more a Bacchanal than he is a saint. Dionysus and his church was grounded on a serious joie-de-vivre (“joy of living”), like that of Walt Whitman. Dionysus made wine, not a medicine, but a sacrament. Jesus Christ also made wine, not a medicine, but a sacrament. But Omar makes it, not a sacrament, but a medicine.’”

This twofold distinction—medicine versus sacrament—is essential. Medicine treats disease; it makes abnormal things normal. A sacrament celebrates reality; it makes normal things transcendent. Omar uses wine medicinally, to treat the disease of existence itself, to make bearable what he finds unbearable. Dionysus and Jesus use wine sacramentally, to celebrate life, to intensify joy, to reveal the goodness woven into creation. The difference lies not in the wine but in the heart of the drinker and the purpose for which he drinks.

Chesterton concludes his essay with a striking rhetorical contrast. He imagines Omar standing with his cup:

“‘Drink,’ he says, ‘for you know not whence you come nor why. Drink, for you know not when you go nor where. Drink, because the stars are cruel and the world as idle as a humming-top. Drink, because there is nothing worth trusting, nothing worth fighting for. Drink, because all things are lapsed in a base equality and an evil peace.’ So he stands offering us the cup in his hand.

And at the high altar of Christianity stands another figure, in whose hand also is the cup of the vine. ‘Drink’ he says, ‘for the whole world is as red as this wine, with the crimson of the love and wrath of God. Drink, for the trumpets are blowing for battle and this is the stirrup-cup. Drink, for this my blood of the new testament that is shed for you. Drink, for I know of whence you come and why. Drink, for I know of when you go and where.’”

One cup offers escape from meaninglessness; the other offers participation in meaning. One shuts out a universe perceived as hostile; the other reveals a universe charged with the grandeur of God. This is the fundamental distinction we must apply when evaluating any substance: Does it reveal life or conceal it? Does it gladden the heart or deaden the pain? Does it enhance celebration or enable escape?

A Biblical Qualification: Compassion and Extreme Suffering

Before continuing with Chesterton’s argument, we must address an apparent tension. Proverbs 31:6-7 instructs: “Give strong drink to him who is perishing, and wine to those who are bitter of heart. Let him drink and forget his poverty, and remember his misery no more.” Here Scripture explicitly recommends wine as medicine—to dull pain and provide relief from suffering. Does this contradict Chesterton’s warning against medicinal drinking?

No, and understanding why reveals the wisdom of both Scripture and Chesterton. Notice the context: verses 4-5 just warned kings and rulers against wine because it impairs judgment needed for governance. The contrast is deliberate—rulers need their wits; the dying and desperately suffering need compassionate relief. This passage describes wine used as anesthetic for those in extreme circumstances: the perishing (literally dying), those in bitter distress, those crushed by poverty. This is compassionate pain relief for unbearable suffering, not routine escapism from life’s normal challenges.

Paul’s medical advice to Timothy fits here too: “Use a little wine for your stomach’s sake and your frequent infirmities” (1 Timothy 5:23). Wine has legitimate therapeutic uses—aiding digestion, providing comfort to the suffering, even easing the dying process. The essay doesn’t condemn such use.

What Chesterton warns against—is using substances medicinally when you’re not actually sick. The danger lies in treating normal life as a disease requiring chemical intervention, in drinking to escape ordinary stress rather than celebrate genuine joy. There’s a vast difference between giving wine to someone dying in agony (legitimate compassion) and using substances routinely to “zone out” from daily responsibilities (escapism masquerading as medicine).

Proverbs 31 describes exceptional circumstances where dulling pain is appropriate mercy. Chesterton and this essay address normal life, where wine should function sacramentally—enhancing celebration, not providing escape. The medicinal use Scripture permits is genuine medicine for genuine suffering, not the pseudo-medical justification people give for recreational escapism.

Chesterton concludes with Omar and Christ each offering a cup:

“‘Drink,’ [Omar] says, ‘for you know not whence you come nor why. Drink, for you know not when you go nor where. Drink, because the stars are cruel and the world as idle as a humming-top. Drink, because there is nothing worth trusting, nothing worth fighting for.’... And at the high altar of Christianity stands another figure, in whose hand also is the cup of the vine. ‘Drink’ he says ‘for the whole world is as red as this wine, with the crimson of the love and wrath of God. Drink, for the trumpets are blowing for battle and this is the stirrup-cup. Drink, for this my blood of the new testament that is shed for you. Drink, for I know of whence you come and why. Drink, for I know of when you go and where.’”

One cup offers escape from meaninglessness; the other offers participation in meaning. Does the substance reveal life or conceal it? Gladden the heart or deaden pain? Enable celebration or escape? This framework reveals why wine and marijuana cannot be equated.

The Nature of Wine’s Effects

To apply Chesterton’s distinction practically, we must understand how wine actually affects the human person. Wine’s effects, when consumed moderately, are characterized by enhancement and intensification rather than replacement or escape.

Wine as Mood Intensifier

Wine does not create a new emotional state so much as it amplifies existing ones. This is why Scripture describes wine as making glad the heart of man—it presupposes a heart, an existing emotional and spiritual life, which wine then intensifies. A joyful celebration becomes more joyful with wine. Good fellowship becomes warmer and more welcoming. A festive meal becomes more festive. This is wine’s sacramental function: it takes what is already good and makes it better, takes what is already celebratory and makes it more so.

This amplification works because alcohol, in moderate amounts, lowers social inhibitions and relaxes self-consciousness. People laugh more freely, speak more openly, and connect more easily with one another. But crucially, they remain themselves—their personalities are enhanced, not replaced. The shy person becomes more talkative but does not become a different person. The serious person loosens up but does not lose his identity. Wine intensifies the person that already exists; it does not manufacture a new one.

Wine Enhances Joy and Fellowship

Wine’s primary biblical function is tied to celebration and community. Throughout Scripture, wine appears at feasts, festivals, weddings, and gatherings. Its purpose is fundamentally social and festive. Ecclesiastes 9:7 commands: “Go, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart; for God has already accepted your works.” The wine accompanies and enhances the joy; it does not create joy where none existed.

This is why Jesus’s first miracle at Cana is so significant. The wedding feast was already happening, already joyful. The wine Jesus provided did not initiate the celebration; it sustained and enriched it. Wine serves celebration; it does not replace it. And when Paul writes to Timothy about using “a little wine,” he envisions wine as part of ordinary life and meals, not as a means of altering consciousness or escaping problems.

Moderate Use Maintains Connection to Reality

Perhaps most importantly, moderate wine consumption allows the drinker to remain fully present to reality. One may drink a glass of wine with dinner and remain fully capable of conversation, thought, work, and responsibility. Senses are not significantly dulled, judgment is not substantially impaired, and awareness of surroundings stays intact. This is wine functioning as Chesterton’s “wine that reveals”—one is more present to the joy of the moment, not less present to reality itself.

The biblical warnings against drunkenness make this clear. Drunkenness is sinful precisely because it involves loss of self-control, impaired judgment, and disconnection from reality. But moderate drinking avoids these pitfalls. The person who enjoys wine with a meal gladdens his heart without shutting out the universe. He enhances the goodness of creation without escaping from it.

The Nature of Marijuana’s Effects

Marijuana operates on distinctly different principles. Its effects, even in moderate amounts (microdosing), are characterized by alteration rather than intensification, by removal from reality rather than enhancement of it.

The Creation of Alternate Mental States

Unlike wine, which intensifies existing moods and situations, marijuana creates a distinct altered state of consciousness commonly called being “high.” This state is not merely an amplification of normal experience but a different mode of experiencing altogether. Perception of time slows or becomes distorted. Sensory experiences are altered—colors may seem more vivid, sounds more engrossing, food tastes different. Thought patterns shift, often becoming more tangential, less linear, more absorbed in the immediate moment in a way that feels qualitatively different from ordinary consciousness.

This is not enhancement; it is alteration. The marijuana user is not experiencing normal reality more intensely; he is experiencing a modified version of reality. The “high” is the point—unlike moderate wine drinking, where mild relaxation accompanies but does not define the experience, marijuana use specifically aims at achieving this altered state. One does not smoke marijuana to make a good meal slightly better; one smokes it to feel high, to enter that altered consciousness. This is closer to what Chesterton called “medical” drinking—using a substance to achieve a state one is not in naturally.

Tendency Toward Introspection and Withdrawal

Wine is socially enhancing; marijuana tends toward introspection and social withdrawal. While wine at a feast makes conversation flow and fellowship deepen, marijuana typically makes users more absorbed in their own thoughts, more withdrawn into private experience, more passive in their engagement with others. The stereotypical marijuana user sitting on a couch, absorbed in music or his own thoughts, perfectly captures this tendency. Even when used socially, marijuana often produces parallel solitary experiences rather than genuine interaction—people get high together but separately are lost in their own altered perceptions.

This represents a fundamentally different orientation from wine. Wine draws people out of themselves and into community and celebration. Marijuana draws people into themselves and away from active engagement with reality and others. One enhances fellowship; the other tends toward solitude, even in a crowd.

Escape and Deadening Rather Than Amplification

Many marijuana users describe its appeal in terms that sound remarkably like Omar’s wine—it helps them “not think about” problems, “relax” from stress, “zone out” after a hard day, “escape” from anxiety. These are not the words of amplification and celebration. They are the words of anesthetic and escape. The marijuana user often seeks not to enhance the joy of life but to dull the pain of it, not to celebrate reality but to take a vacation from it.

This is not universally true, of course. Some users claim marijuana enhances creativity or deepens appreciation of music or art. But even these claims acknowledge that marijuana creates a different mode of experience—a “high” consciousness that perceives things differently than ordinary consciousness does. And notably, creative work done while high often does not hold up to sober evaluation. The marijuana experience feels profound in the moment but frequently proves shallow in retrospect—a classic mark of the altered state rather than genuine insight.

Lack of Biblical Precedent or Positive Examples

Importantly, marijuana has no biblical precedent whatsoever. Scripture never mentions it, commends it, or provides any framework for understanding it as a gift from God. Wine, by contrast, is woven throughout biblical revelation—from Noah’s vineyard to Jesus’s cup. It appears in blessings, commands, wisdom literature, prophecy, and the central act of Christian worship. Wine has a theology; marijuana does not.

This absence is significant. If marijuana operated similarly to wine—if it genuinely gladdened the heart in the biblical sense—we might expect to find it mentioned positively somewhere in Scripture. Its complete absence, combined with its fundamentally different effects, suggests that it does not fit the category of gifts that reveal and enhance creation. It fits instead the category of substances that alter consciousness and enable escape.

Theological Implications

These practical differences between wine and marijuana reflect deeper theological truths about how God’s gifts function and what they accomplish.

God’s Pattern of Gift-Giving

When God gives gifts to mankind, they serve to reveal and enhance the goodness He built into creation. Food satisfies hunger and pleases the palate—it does not create an alternate experience of eating but intensifies the natural pleasure of it. Sex unites husband and wife and creates new life—it does not transport them to a different reality but consummates the reality of their covenant. Wine gladdens the heart—it does not replace the heart or create an artificial emotional state but intensifies the joy that comes from celebration, fellowship, and gratitude.

This pattern reflects God’s character and creative purpose. He made a world that is genuinely good, worthy of celebration, charged with His glory. His gifts do not help us escape this world; they help us appreciate it more fully. They do not shut out the universe; they reveal it. As Chesterton wrote, “—Ultimately, a man cannot rejoice in anything except the nature of things. Ultimately a man can enjoy nothing except religion.” True gifts from God enable us to rejoice in the nature of things, not to escape from it.

The Difference Between Celebration and Escapism

Again, marijuana, by contrast, tends toward escapism rather than celebration. Its appeal lies largely in the altered state itself—in experiencing reality differently rather than experiencing it more fully. This is not an enhancement of creation but a chemical modification of perception. It does not make a good thing better; it makes a normal thing different.

The theological problem with escapism is that it implicitly denies the goodness of creation and the sufficiency of God’s provision. If life as God made it requires chemical alteration to be bearable or enjoyable, then either God’s creation is deficient or our hearts are not rightly oriented toward Him. The Christian who needs marijuana to “relax” or “deal with stress” or “enjoy life” is functionally saying that God’s gifts of rest, peace, joy, and contentment are insufficient. He needs a chemical boost to achieve what should come through faith, community, and the proper ordering of life.

This is why Chesterton’s distinction between medicine and sacrament is so important. Medicine treats deficiency or disease. If one needs a substance to feel normal, one is treating it medicinally—and that suggests something is wrong that needs more than chemical intervention to fix. Sacraments celebrate sufficiency and goodness. If one uses a substance to enhance celebration, one is treating it sacramentally—acknowledging that God’s gifts are already good and using His provision to enjoy them more fully.

Wine, used rightly, is sacramental. It celebrates the goodness of life, the joy of community, the blessing of God’s provision. Marijuana, even when not abused, tends toward the medicinal—using a substance to achieve a state or feeling that one lacks naturally. And if Chesterton is right that “the one genuinely dangerous and immoral way of drinking wine is to drink it as a medicine,” then marijuana’s fundamentally medicinal character raises serious questions about its appropriateness for recreational Christian use.

Why Marijuana Fails the “Gladdening the Heart” Test

The biblical test for wine is whether it gladdens the heart. Does marijuana pass this test? The answer depends on what we mean by “gladdening the heart.”

If by gladness we mean experiencing life more fully, appreciating God’s gifts more deeply, celebrating reality more joyfully—then no, marijuana fails the test. It does not make a glad heart gladder. It does not intensify existing joy. It does not enhance appreciation of creation. Instead, it alters perception, creates an artificial state, and enables withdrawal rather than engagement.

Psalm 104:15 describes wine alongside bread and oil as basic provisions that serve specific purposes: bread strengthens, oil beautifies, wine gladdens. Each enhances life as God designed it. Marijuana does not fit this pattern. It does not strengthen, beautify, or gladden in the biblical sense. It alters, distorts, and enables escape. This is not the work of a divine gift but the appeal of a mind-altering drug.

Scripture’s consistent testimony is that God’s gifts reveal His goodness, draw us toward Him, and enhance our enjoyment of life in this world. Wine does this. Marijuana, by its very nature and effects, does not. It may produce pleasure, but it does not gladden the heart. It may alter mood, but it does not enhance reality. It may provide temporary escape, but it does not reveal the universe—it shuts it out.

This is why the biblical case for wine provides no cover for marijuana use. They are fundamentally different substances, serving fundamentally different purposes, producing fundamentally different effects. One belongs at the wedding feast; the other belongs nowhere in Christian practice.

The Christian who enjoys a glass of wine at dinner does so in continuity with thousands of years of biblical practice and divine approval. He celebrates God’s good creation, enhances fellowship, and experiences the gift that gladdens the heart. The Christian who uses marijuana, even in moderation, does something without biblical precedent or theological justification—something that alters rather than enhances, that conceals rather than reveals, that shuts out rather than opens up. And for Christians seeking to live faithfully in God’s good creation, that difference is everything.

Conclusion

Can Christians drink? Yes—Scripture is clear. Wine is God’s gift, celebrated throughout the Old Testament as a sign of blessing and commanded for use in worship and festivals. Jesus made wine His first miracle, drank it freely, and chose it to represent His covenant blood. The apostles affirmed wine’s goodness while prohibiting drunkenness. The biblical witness is unmistakable: wine is good, drunkenness is evil, and Christians are called to enjoy God’s gifts with gratitude and self-control.

Yet Christian freedom requires wisdom. We must never become drunk. We must consider weaker brothers and sometimes abstain for love’s sake. We must recognize our own vulnerabilities—not everyone can drink safely. And we must be mindful of our witness to the watching world.

The comparison with marijuana illuminates these principles. Wine enhances creation’s goodness; marijuana alters perception. Wine intensifies joy; marijuana enables escape. Wine has biblical precedent and divine approval; marijuana has neither. In Chesterton’s terms, wine reveals the universe; substances used for escape shut it out. This fundamental difference explains why the biblical case for wine provides no cover for marijuana use.

The biblical view of alcohol avoids two errors. Legalism demands universal abstinence based on fear rather than Scripture, dishonoring God’s gifts and rejecting Jesus’s example. License drinks without regard for self-control or love, abusing God’s gifts and using freedom as excuse for indulgence. The biblical path lies between: liberty exercised with wisdom, freedom tempered by love, celebration that glorifies God.

So yes, Christians can drink—freely, gratefully, and responsibly. We can drink as Jesus drank, celebrating God’s goodness. We can drink as Paul instructed, maintaining self-control. We can drink as the Psalmist described, allowing wine to gladden our hearts as we rejoice in God’s provision. But we must drink as Christians—with wisdom that knows when to abstain, with love that considers others, with gratitude that recognizes every good gift comes from above, and with self-control that refuses to be mastered by anything except Christ.

The cup is offered. In one hand, Omar offers wine that shuts out the universe, drunk in despair. In the other hand, Christ offers wine that reveals the universe, drunk in celebration of His love. The difference is not in the wine but in what it reveals about our hearts and our God. May we choose wisely, drink gratefully, and in all things do all to the glory of God.

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About the Author

Roger Ball is a Reformed Christian writer who lives on the . He writes on Christian theology, apologetics, psychology, and culture. Contact: rogerball121@gmail.com