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December 4, 2024
At Screwtape's dinner table, every element of “hospitality” is a twisted mockery of true feasting. The tables and chairs stand eerily vacant, a deliberate affront to the Enemy’s design for fellowship. Food is not savored but mangled and spat out, a grotesque parody of nourishment. Silence hangs heavy in the air, an unspoken scream of defiance. Wine, present but never tasted, sits as a hollow symbol—a grim tableau hinting at the chaos that would ensue if the Enemy’s intentions for His patients ever took root.
Devils delight in unraveling the fabric of festivity, their dark craft a screeching symphony of despondency, discontentment, suspicion, and false piety. For them, food and drink are not to be savored but distorted into tools of corruption. The serpent in the garden displayed no desire to enjoy the fruit that gleamed with divine goodness. His hunger lay elsewhere: in warping humanity’s capacity to taste and see true beauty. His aim was to dull man’s palate, blind his vision, stifle his laughter, weaken his hands, and shadow his heart—snuffing out gratitude and cheer. His ultimate goal was to essentially shatter the feast; to sever the sacred communion between God and man, man and his fellow image-bearers, and man and the garden.
A discontented, melancholic life is marked by the absence of feasts, a tragedy of unopened bottles and empty tables, hollow and bereft of joy.
Wine is the drink of communion, the cordial of covenant fellowship, the wellspring of festivity—a gustatory symphony of joy, the warm smile of hospitality, the indelible taste of sacred moments.
Wine flows through the pages of Holy Scripture, a symbol of divine blessing (Deut 7:13), celebration (Isa 25:6), joy, and comfort (1 Tim 5:23). It is poured out in worship and, at times, judgment (Jer 25:15). It graced Christ’s first miracle and symbolizes His potent, efficacious blood. It crowns the liturgical feast He instituted for His church—a gift from the Sovereign Lord, who creates, bestows, and commands its use for His purposes.
Devils do not invent wine; they cannot savor its richness. Their aim is mockery, not enjoyment. They corrupt it to defy the King of kings (Matt 27:34), twisting its goodness into wickedness and violence (Prov 4:17). They pervert it to dull the senses, making light of its glory (Prov 20:1). Yet, their perversion underscores the inherent goodness of wine—a serpentine inversion that calls good evil and evil good.
There is an aesthetic to wine that transcends mere luxury. It embodies beauty, depth, longevity, resurrection, and glory—an intentional design that stirs awe in its partakers. Wine is not a pragmatic indulgence but a divine orchestration, essential for humanity’s holistic flourishing. It demands fruitfulness, which only the fruitful can craft. Its creation embodies cultural dominion—the transformation of juice into a delicacy of distilled artistry. The best winemakers envision the taster, crafting their elixir with selfless precision for the highest good. Good wine awakens the palate, unveiling the subtle craftsmanship woven into each sip.
The art of wine tasting is a holistic ritual: observing its color, inhaling its bouquet, feeling its texture, and savoring its intricate flavors. It requires patience, thought, and an attunement to beauty. In engaging the senses, wine should evoke affections that exalt truth, beauty, and goodness. Those who gulp it like water miss the profound sensory harmony it offers. Perhaps this is why Christ so often used wine as an illustration, urging us to experience Him holistically—to taste, see, hear, and feel His presence.
Legalists and libertines alike cherish God's Word until it disrupts their comforts and demands repentance from their pious façades.
Wine is the drink of communion, the cordial of covenant fellowship, the wellspring of festivity—a gustatory symphony of joy, the warm smile of hospitality, the indelible taste of sacred moments.
This stands in stark contrast to a world bent on propagating ugliness, instant gratification, shallow thinking, and discord. Devils sow discontent, foster self-loathing, and seduce with dull, fleeting pleasures. Their disciples—those steeped in self-loathing—watch the world burn with cynical glee. They spurn thanksgiving, bowing only to their insatiable appetites. Mistaking gluttonous indulgence for festivity, they destroy themselves, drowning in perversions of pleasure. They gather others into their misery, fundamentally averse to the generosity and hospitality that define true festivity.
Thanksgiving is potent warfare. Devils revel in despondency; gratitude is the ground of true freedom and prosperity.
Christians often misconstrue wine, swinging between idolatry, demonization, and indifference—thus ceding its significance to those who distort it. This abdication undermines what God has declared good, souring the fruit and cheapening the covenantal ordinance. By severing wine from its rightful association with the King of Kings, we diminish its covenantal richness and miss its divine intent. Legalists and libertines alike cherish God's Word until it disrupts their comforts and demands repentance from their pious façades. Meanwhile, devils revel in this confusion, thriving on ascetic distortions and licentious excesses alike. They excel in the dark art of inhibition, seeking to vilify abundance and elevate perversion, blinding us to the overflowing goodness God intended.
Festivity flows from gratitude—a recognition of God’s goodness, mercy, and grace. It is the overflow of love from having been loved, the shared joy that invites others to taste and see the Lord’s goodness. It is a transcendent moment, a reminder of our place in a larger, victorious story. In festivity, we remember who we are, where we belong, what we are for, and where we are headed. It is a foretaste of the great marriage supper of the Lamb, where every seat is reserved for God’s children.
Thanksgiving is potent warfare. Devils revel in despondency, but gratitude is the ground of true freedom and prosperity. Christians must consistently be in the habit of resigning from and repenting of complaints. The chaos around us is a mission field awaiting restoration through the richness of our thanksgiving and joy. Gratitude undergirds flourishing civilizations, recognizing God’s gifts and our mandate to steward them. Those who nurture gratitude will inherit the earth.
Festive seasons must be anchored in worship, for Christ is the foundation of true joy, hope, freedom, and fruitfulness. When we gather to feast, sing, and fellowship, we declare the sovereign reign of our Lord with every shared laugh and every clink of the glass.
Our goal, then, is simple: frustrate Screwtape. Mock his hollow table by setting ours with laughter and song, practicing wise restraint and sober-mindedness—communing with God’s people with fervor and sincerity. For in these humble acts of joy and gratitude, we partake in the divine banquet, where the real feast is love itself—and evil-doers are left humiliated in their despair and perpetual hunger.
