Be Sober: A Forgotten Command in an Indulgent Age

For you are all sons of the light and sons of the day; we do not belong to the night or to the darkness. So then, let us not sleep as the others do, but let us remain awake and sober. For those who sleep, sleep at night; and those who get drunk, get drunk at night. But since we belong to the day, let us be sober, putting on the breastplate of faith and love, and the helmet of our hope of salvation (1 Thess. 5:5-8).

The Pilot Safety Brochure distributed by the FAA reads:

Ideally, total avoidance of alcohol should be a key element observed by every pilot in planning or accomplishing a flight. Alcohol avoidance is as critical as developing a flight plan, a good preflight inspection, obeying ATC procedures, and avoiding severe weather. Alcohol quickly impairs judgment and leads to behavior that can easily contribute to or cause accidents. It’s a sedative, hypnotic, and addicting drug.

Why such urgency?

Why would commercial pilots be grounded for a BAC of .02% in their system?

Why were four policemen immediately terminated for drinking while on duty?

Why can’t bus drivers have a buzz while bringing your kids home?

Whether driving a school bus or operating in the ER, zero-tolerance for alcohol is the standard—because anything less risks lives.

I think it’s fair to say most of us are grateful for that.

We want the people in charge of our safety to be fully sober.

We expect their minds to be clear.

We demand it—because lives are at stake. What about when souls are at stake?

Is taking up your cross daily a lesser responsibility than enforcing the law…or flying a plane?

If you can’t drive a bus, carry a badge, or perform surgery with alcohol in your system, then why do Christians argue they can carry their cross to the best of their ability, even under the influence?

I might be crazy, but something about this doesn’t add up.

Biblical Sobriety

Many folks are surprised to learn the New Testament uses the word sober the same way Alcoholics Anonymous does when handing out silver sobriety chips—not for “less alcohol,” not for “moderation,” but for zero alcohol.

There’s a sad irony here: The world escapes alcohol and calls it freedom. Christians defend it and call it “liberty.” Why do some work so hard to defend their “right” to use what has wrecked countless lives?

When Paul says, “let us remain awake and sober,” the Greek word is nēphō.

Here’s how reliable sources define this word:

Strong’s Concordance: "to be sober, to abstain from wine
"

HELPS Word-Studies: "uninfluenced by intoxicants; to have one's wits about them"

NAS Concordance: "to abstain from wine"

Topical Lexicon: "used in the NT to describe literal sobriety (not intoxicated), and metaphorical alertness"

Vine’s Expository Dictionary: "to be free from the influence of intoxicants"

Bromiley’s Theological Dictionary: "holding no wine"

It seems to me, the literal meaning of the word is indisputable to any reasonable, sincere person. New Testament sobriety means abstinence—not moderation, not “just enough,” and certainly not a buzz.

Numerous commentators go out of their way to avoid the literal meaning of nēphō. Some, like Thayer, even go so far as to say that nēphō is always metaphorical in the New Testament—simply meaning to be “calm and collected in spirit,” with no real connection to alcohol.

It strikes me as more than a little disingenuous to say, “in every case, nēphō is metaphorical,” when literal drinking is explicitly discussed in the immediate context that nēphō appears.

For the time already past is sufficient for you to have carried out the desire of the Gentiles, having pursued a course of sensuality, lusts, drunkenness, carousing, drinking parties and abominable idolatries. In all this, they are surprised that you do not run with them into the same excesses of dissipation, and they malign you; but they will give account to Him who is ready to judge the living and the dead. For the gospel has for this purpose been preached even to those who are dead, that though they are judged in the flesh as men, they may live in the spirit according to the will of God. The end of all things is near; therefore, be of sound judgment and sober for the purpose of prayer (1 Pet. 4:3-7).

Not only is literal drinking the subject, but Peter is drawing a direct contrast:

You once drank and indulged (v. 3)

Now, in light of judgment, be sober (nēphō) (v. 7)

Peter also uses two distinct words:

Sōphroneō: mental clarity, inner control

Nēphō: sobriety

If both words meant the exact same thing, it would be redundant. But Peter is purposeful:

Stay mentally disciplined (sōphroneō) and physically abstinent/sober (nēphō)—because the end is near, and your prayers depend on it.

Consider how one Jewish man (without an axe to grind) used the word:

“…those who wear the sacerdotal garments are without spot, and eminent for their purity and sobriety. Nor are they permitted to drink wine…” (Antiquities 3.12.2)

Josephus employs the word nephaleos (“sobriety”) of the priests, as they functioned in their appointed roles, commenting, “Nor are they permitted to drink wine…”

Why bring this up? He was a Jew living in the first century, writing in the same koine Greek as the New Testament authors, thus providing us with a historical window into how ancients used and understood nēphō.

So why ignore the context—biblical or historical?

Why redefine nēphō to blunt its force—especially when the literary and historical context reveal what the word means?

Sadly, many commentators and lexicographers gloss over the evidence. Sadder still, many Christians follow their lead—choosing tradition, convenience, or personal preference over clarity and conviction.

Six times we find the command to be sober in the New Testament:

Keep awake and sober; let us be sober (1 Thess. 5:6, 8).

Be sober in all things (2 Tim. 4:5).

Prepare your minds for action, keep sober (1 Pet. 1:13).

Be clear-minded and sober, so that you can pray (1 Pet. 4:7).

Be sober, be vigilant (1 Pet. 5:8).

Nēphō is certainly used metaphorically in Scripture. Even so, when used figuratively, its figurative power is built on the assumption of literal sobriety—not just “inner calm,” but full mental alertness unclouded by any intoxicant, especially alcohol.

The metaphor only works because the literal reality is serious.

So while we can say nēphō is usually used figuratively, we can’t say it’s only metaphorical. That would miss its force entirely—especially in 1 Peter 4:7 and 1 Thess. 5:6, 8, where the context doesn’t suggest sobriety. It demands it.

What sort of alcohol consumption is Peter warning about, by the way? It’s often argued, “The Bible condemns drunkenness, not drinking.” But does that claim really hold up under biblical scrutiny?

Biblical Drunkenness

Let’s hear from 1 Pet. 4:3: “For the time already past is sufficient for you to have carried out the desire of the Gentiles, having pursued a course of sensuality, lusts, drunkenness, carousing, drinking parties and abominable idolatries.”

The most readily recognizable word related to this issue is drunkenness—and it’s the one folks often seize upon when defending casual or social drinking. The logic goes: “Only extreme intoxication is condemned—not the drinking itself.”

Peter doesn’t use the common New Testament word for drunkenness (methē). Instead, he uses a word that appears nowhere else in the NT: οἰνοφλυγία (oinophlugia).

Vine describes it as “drunkenness, debauchery” (from oinos, wine + phluō, to bubble up, overflow).

Souter defines it as “steeping oneself in wine.”

Zodhiates says “no single word renders it better than debauchery.”

And Trench agrees: “…extravagant indulgence in potations long drawn out…”

In short, oinophlugia is the state wherein grotesque markers of intoxication appear and people do things they'd never consider while sober—sexually, emotionally, violently—and do those things shamelessly.

It’s not just drunkenness. It’s what drunkenness unleashes. It’s the broken dam, and wallowing in the filth, shame, and regret we now call getting wasted.

That much is obviously condemned.

But Peter doesn't stop there.

He also lists carousing (often translated as revelry) as another behavior that should be “in the past” for Christians. The word is kōmos. Brannan defines it as a “binge party” or “an occasion for excessive eating or drinking (with debauchery normally ensuing),” thus it is sometimes rendered “orgies.”

Paul uses the same word and associates the same behaviors in Rom. 13:13: “Let us behave properly as in the day, not in carousing and drunkenness, not in sexual promiscuity and sensuality, not in strife and jealousy.”

Notice Paul and Peter pair these terms—like promiscuity and sensuality, or strife and jealousy. Related, yes—but distinct.

Strong calls it “a letting loose” and Thayer gives a fuller picture:

…a nocturnal and riotous procession of half-drunken and frolicsome fellows who after supper parade through the streets with torches and music in honor of Bacchus or some other deity, and sing and play before the houses of their male and female friends; hence, used generally, of feasts and drinking-parties that are protracted till late at night and indulge in revelry…

So we’re not just talking about a broken dam, but the breaking of the dam.

Peter condemns getting drunk, but there’s more going on here.

He condemns drinking culture—from the individual condition, to the social environment, to the events built around it.

So when people say, “It’s okay to drink as long as you don’t get drunk,” Peter’s layered condemnation says otherwise, and he’s still not done.

He reveals that we shouldn’t do anything to compromise the dam to any degree.

The last setting he notes is potos—drinking parties: what Mounce calls, “drinking together,” BDAG defines as “the drinking itself; drinking as a group activity,” and Trench calls, “the drinking bout, the banquet, the symposium, not of necessity excessive…”

Peter’s word choice isn’t random—it’s rhetorically layered and progressive—from the rotten fruit back to the root.

Thus Peter finishes his full profile of alcohol-related sin—from its subtle entry points to its shameful consequences.

Potos deals directly with the event itself, not just the outcome. That’s why the argument, “The Bible only condemns drunkenness, not drinking,” completely collapses in light of this single verse. Peter builds a staircase of sin, and many Christians justify their drinking by saying, “I only took the first step.” He leaves no place to hide in moderation arguments.

There’s something else you need to know: Peter isn’t alone. The same Spirit who inspired him, inspired all New Testament writers, so it shouldn’t surprise to find Paul addressing the same sin.

Let’s look more closely at his approach.

"Pay careful attention, then, to how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord’s will is. Do not get drunk on wine, which leads to reckless indiscretion. Instead, be filled with the Spirit" (Eph. 5:15-18).

The words “get drunk” come from one word, methuskó. Let’s hear from the lexicons:

Vine says this word “signifies ‘to make drunk, or to grow drunk’ (an inceptive verb, marking the process or the state expressed...), ‘to become intoxicated…’”

Young: “to begin to be softened.”

Topical Lexicon: "μεθύσκω is used in the New Testament to describe the act of becoming intoxicated or drunk..."

The Lexham Analytical Lexicon of the Septuagint: “be or become or make drunk.”

Bloomfield: “to grow drunk.”

E.W. Bollinger: “marking the beginning of methuo (drunkenness).”

What strikes me about these definitions is that they include the process—the becoming drunk, not just the state of being drunk.

Young’s “softened” refers to the influence of alcohol beginning to take effect (judgment dulled, clarity fading), and Vine is also process oriented, pointing out that it’s an inceptive verb, denoting the onset of drunkenness. Strong agrees as he notes the transitive form of the word (i.e. highlighting the cause or progress toward intoxication, not just the end result).

This inceptive force is important because it widens the biblical warning: It’s not just condemning the drunk person lying on the floor; it’s condemning the movement away from sobriety.

Paul’s command is in the present passive imperative, which carries the force of: “Stop letting yourself be caused to become drunk.” Not “Don’t end up wasted,” but “Don’t even start the process.”

The idea is don’t relinquish any control to alcohol, don’t begin to come under its influence, but remain totally under the influence of the Holy Spirit.

Today, we equate drunkenness with extremes—staggering, slurring, vomiting, or abuse. If someone doesn’t check all the boxes, we might shrug and say, “He’s not really drunk.”

God draws the line far sooner—the question is not, “How much does it take to be drunk?” Rather, “How much do you have to drink to not be sober?” The Bible doesn’t treat drunkenness as a sudden collapse—it treats it as a process. Drunkenness doesn’t start with excess—it starts with the first drink. From the biblical perspective of Eph. 5:18 and 1 Pet. 4:3, people begin to grow drunk when they begin to drink.

That’s why the command to be sober (nēphō) appears so often in Scripture. God doesn’t want Christians to flirt with the influence of alcohol—He calls us to be fully under the influence of His Spirit.

Even with the biblical definitions of sobriety and drunkenness clearly established, some Christians may still harbor doubts—or try to carve out exceptions.

I haven’t addressed every passage that mentions alcohol—some of which are often cited to make drinking seem reasonable, even righteous. It’s only fair that we now examine some of those frequently used texts, and strive to let Scripture be its own commentary.

A Little Wine

In 1 Tim. 5:23, Paul instructs Timothy…

“No longer drink only water, but use a little wine for the sake of your stomach and your frequent ailments.”

This shows that even an apostle saw value in moderate wine consumption for personal use. The command doesn’t come with a warning, restriction, or sense of reluctance. In fact, Paul encourages it. If drinking wine were inherently sinful—or if its influence were dangerous at any level—Paul wouldn’t have prescribed it. Therefore, it’s reasonable to conclude that moderate, purposeful use of alcohol is not condemned by Scripture.

Furthermore, in Proverbs 31:6–7, Scripture explicitly says to give strong drink to him who is perishing, and wine to those in bitter distress. This is not a condemnation but a compassionate provision. It recognizes that in times of suffering and hardship, God allows for alcohol to bring temporary relief. The passage doesn’t say this is sinful—it says give it to those in need.

Thus alcohol, like many things, has a legitimate use when applied with discernment and care. It may not be appropriate for kings and rulers (vv. 4–5), but for ordinary people—especially the broken and hurting—it’s presented as a valid comfort.

Therefore, using alcohol responsibly, especially in difficult seasons, is biblically defensible. To forbid all alcohol use is to ignore the nuance and compassion of Scripture.

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Let’s start with 1 Tim. 5. I would argue just the opposite, and that this conclusion is unfounded.

This is a medical prescription—not a moral endorsement of casual drinking.

Paul is not telling Timothy to drink wine for pleasure, social reasons, emotional relaxation, or as a matter of liberty. He’s telling him to use it for his stomach and frequent illnesses. That’s therapeutic, not recreational. It’s utility, not indulgence.

If someone appeals to this verse to justify casual drinking, they’re ignoring Paul’s intent. It's like using a verse about anesthesia to justify smoking weed.

Secondly, the instruction assumes Timothy wasn’t drinking at all—why?

Paul says, “No longer drink only water…”

Granted, “only” doesn’t appear in the Greek, it’s an interpretive insertion for clarity, but reflects the contrast Paul intends. Timothy’s current habit was drinking water exclusively, and Paul introduces an exception for health reasons.

Timothy had already chosen abstinence—a reasonable inference given Paul’s teachings on sobriety and influence. Paul isn't loosening Timothy's conviction—he's addressing a health-related overcorrection.

If he knew Paul had no concerns about drinking wine, why wasn’t Timothy already doing it, knowing it would have helped his stomach issues?

The most reasonable answer is: Timothy was abstaining intentionally—and Paul grants a narrow medical exception, not a blanket allowance.

Note that he says, “use (χρῶ) a little wine,” though many translations say “drink a little wine,” he’s actually using a different word than “drink.” His intent is utility—measured, purposeful, limited intake—not “drink freely.”

No matter how we slice this, we never come within a thousand miles of drinking modern, fortified wine in a social setting. This text reveals Paul’s fatherly care for Timothy, so to universalize this as a green light for recreational drinking is wholly unfair to the text, and reads far more into the verse than is there.

As for Pro. 31:6-7—I’m stupefied by such conclusions as “…using alcohol responsibly, especially in difficult seasons, is biblically defensible.” Defensible?

A verse about giving strong drink to the dying somehow proves I take shots of Jack Daniel’s with my friends?

Proverbs 31 is not handing out coupons for the liquor store, remember the context: a mother is practically begging her son, a king, to stay sharp, stay sober, and stay responsible.

Read verses 4-5:

It is not for kings, O Lemuel, it is not for kings to drink wine, or for rulers to crave strong drink, lest they drink and forget what is decreed, depriving all the oppressed of justice.

This is a warning for kings to stay far from alcohol so they can judge rightly and defend the vulnerable—the very people alcohol destroys in the context.

She’s using bitter irony to instruct her son, and us. It’s a resigned observation about the self-destructive use of alcohol by those with no hope. It describes reality, not prescribes behavior. In other words, alcohol is for those on their way out, defeated, disconnected from duty—not for a man called to lead, protect, and uphold justice. Note he would, “forget what was decreed…” Is that the kind of forgetfulness a Christian needs?

The point of the passage is not to medicate your woes with alcohol. So, for someone to conclude, “Yeah, drinking is for derelicts, so this Bud’s for you,” doesn’t really treat this text fairly, in my opinion.

Taking this interpretation turns the passage on its head. It would be like saying, “Because alcohol is for the dying, I—the living, thriving Christian—should drink it.” Is that really where this text takes us?

Also, bear in mind, Proverbs regularly records observable truths without morally endorsing them. This is a hallmark of wisdom literature: many verses are descriptive, not prescriptive. Meaning, they reflect how life often works, not how life should be.

For example:

Pro. 19:6-7 — “Many seek the favor of a generous man, and everyone is a friend to a man who gives gifts. All a poor man’s brothers hate him; how much more do his friends go far from him!”

This isn't saying, "Be rich so people will like you.”

It’s just stating a tragic reality: people favor wealth and status. The proverb exposes social bias—it doesn’t condone it.

Pro. 17:8 —“A bribe is like a magic stone in the eyes of the one who gives it; wherever he turns he prospers.”

This verse is sarcastic. It describes how the briber views his bribes—as a tool for success. But Pro. 17:23 calls it wicked.

“Give strong drink to him who is perishing...”

This follows the same pattern: it describes how the hopeless and dying use alcohol—not how the righteous should live—especially in light of verses 4-5.

The point is this is not granting permission for new covenant priests and kings to drink (Rev. 1:6). It’s a grim observation of how those with no hope try to medicate misery with alcohol.

It’s the same thing we acknowledge in our culture and vernacular: “People drink to forget” or try to “drown their sorrows” but, if we’re honest, even from a worldly standpoint, we know this doesn’t work. Not only does it not work, but it makes matters far worse. According to the CDC, 1 in 5 people who commit suicide have alcohol in their system at the time of their death. Alcohol is a depressant. It impairs judgment, lowers inhibitions, and amplifies despair—all of which can increase the risk of suicide. Studies have shown that alcohol increases both the desire and the means by which suicidal impulses are acted upon—removing the natural brakes of fear, caution, or moral restraint. If a Christian is struggling with suicidal thoughts and feelings, alcohol is NOT the answer!

Christians seeking permission for casual alcohol consumption must look elsewhere.

The Wedding at Cana

In John 2, Jesus turns water into wine at a wedding in Cana—His very first miracle. The master of the feast even comments on the quality of the wine, saying the bridegroom saved the best for last. This clearly wasn’t grape juice; it was real wine—and it was served at a public celebration. If wine consumption were inherently sinful or if alcohol use always violated God’s will, it’s hard to imagine Jesus—not just passively permitting it—but actively producing it for others to drink.

Therefore, this passage shows that drinking wine in moderation, especially in celebratory or social settings, is not condemned by Scripture.

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Again, I’m not sure how this conclusion follows from the events of this passage.

Let’s review what took place in Jn. 2:1-11.

Jesus attends a wedding in Cana (v. 1).

The wine runs out during the celebration (v. 3).

His mother alerts Him, Jesus initially resists, then tells the servants to fill six stone water jars (vv. 3-6).

He turns the water into wine, which the headwaiter tastes and notes that it’s unusually good (vv. 9-10).

John comments this was the first sign through which Jesus revealed His glory (v. 11).

These are the facts, and there are beautiful lessons to be learned from this text:

Let’s begin with John’s conclusion: the miracle of turning water into wine “revealed His glory”—it proved that Jesus is not only able to meet our needs but exceed them. It proved He can take the ordinary and make it extraordinary, just as He does with us when we yield our lives to Him—He transforms us into new creations: “If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature” (2 Cor. 5:17).

This was the “first of His signs,” and how fitting for it to be done at a wedding celebration, reminding us to anticipate our union in Heaven with Him: “Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory! For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready” (Rev. 19:7-8). This wasn’t a random act of kindness. It was an announcement to the world: Get ready because the Bridegroom Himself has come; God has kept His promise.

These conclusions can be drawn from the text.

What is there in this passage that leads one to conclude, “Jesus made an open bar at a wedding, so I can have one too”?

Would it make more sense to marvel at God’s wisdom, foresight, and love seen in this text…

Or use it as proof that I can serve champagne at my reception?

We could go into the linguistic, historic, and contextual evidence of oinos and the meaning of “well drunk,” and that’s been done many times by capable scholars and you could easily retread that ground if you desire. More often than not, there’s a deeper problem folks have if they’re using this passage to justify their drinking.

You be the judge, does it really add up to conclude Jesus provided people with hundreds of gallons of something the Bible says mocks (Pro. 20:1), destroys (Hos. 4:11), leads to poverty (Pro. 23:21), woes, sorrows, contentions (Pro. 23:29-30), babblings, worries without cause (Pro. 23:33), impairs judgment (Is. 28:7; Pro. 31:4-5), inflames passions (Hab. 2:15), and enslaves (Pro. 23:35)?

Call me crazy, but I don’t see any way to square that circle.

It flatly contradicts everything we know about Christ’s character, His teachings, and the rest of NT instruction on sobriety and self-control (1 Pet. 4:3, Eph. 5:18, et al.).

It’s not only reckless to use Christ’s miracle in Jn. 2 as a license for social drinking today, but it’s disingenuous.

What I mean is, sadly, the clear commands of Scripture—be sober, be alert, flee drunkenness—are often ignored or downplayed, while obscure details or wedding customs are twisted to justify what Scripture condemns.

This is not an intellectual or interpretive issue; it’s fundamentally a heart issue. As I read Jn. 2:1-11, I see Jesus replacing empty ritual jars with something new, rich, and symbolic of joy in His covenant. For the life of me, no matter how hard I try, I can’t get permission to go to happy hour from this account. Let’s pray and strive to handle Scripture accurately (2 Tim. 2:15), and lean less on the logic of frat boys.

Much Wine

In 1 Timothy 3, Paul lays out the qualifications for elders and deacons. Elders are to be “not given to wine” (v. 3), while deacons are to be “not given to much wine” (v. 8). The distinction suggests a difference in degree, not kind.

If all wine consumption were inherently sinful, Paul would have commanded both groups to abstain entirely. But he doesn’t—he regulates it. The language implies that moderate use is permissible, especially for deacons and by extension, all Christians.

Furthermore, older women are instructed similarly in Titus 2:3—“not to be enslaved to much wine.” Again, if total abstinence were the standard, Paul would have said so.

Therefore, the Bible does not forbid all alcohol use but rather warns against excess, addiction, or loss of self-control. The focus is on temperance, not total abstinence. Christians may drink in moderation without violating Scripture or compromising holiness.

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It’s certainly true that 1 Tim. 3:3, 8; Ti. 1:7-8; 2:2-3 use the phrases “not given to wine” and “not given to much wine” in the context of leadership qualifications, but do they allow for moderate drinking?

Permit me a moment to review what, I believe, makes for sound, consistent, text-driven conclusions from a passage.

At the risk of boring you with dry, clinical technicalities, let me just throw out some questions that will be helpful in any study, not just this one:

What does the original language allow or disallow?

What does the immediate context say?

What does the rest of Scripture say that clarifies, reinforces, or limits interpretation?

How did the historical and cultural context inform the writer’s words and the audience’s understanding?

Does my conclusion create a contradiction with clear teaching elsewhere in the Bible?

I think it best to allow Scripture to interpret Scripture—as one preacher once told me, “The Bible is its own best commentary.” I firmly believe that when we use solid language tools, historical sources and, most importantly, Scripture itself, honored on its own terms, we tend to arrive at the same place.

Understanding God’s word requires human reasoning. That reasoning can be sound and lead to Truth (2 Tim. 2:15; Eph. 3:4), or it can be flawed and lead to error (2 Pet. 3:16)—one’s attitude and intent critically affect the outcome (Jn. 7:17). Inference is a valid part of interpretation, but only when grounded in sufficient evidence. We want to avoid assumptions—especially those with no scriptural basis. Those are dangerous.

All that to say, that’s precisely what’s happened in every argument we’ve considered thus far, including this one.

Here are the phrases applied to elders, deacons, and their wives, as well as older men and women in general:

1 Tim. 3:2-3 – Elders: mē paroinon & nēphō

Strong: “staying near wine, i.e. tippling (a toper):—given to wine.”

Thomas: “given to wine, drunken:—addicted to wine.”

Liddell: “drunken behaviour, drunken violence, a drunken frolic”

1 Tim. 3:8 – Deacons: mē oinō pollō prosechontas

Mounce: “to give one’s self up to, be addicted to, engage in, be occupied with” [much wine]

Lust: “to pay attention, to give heed [abs.] Jb 29,21; to turn one’s attention or mind to, to regard, to follow” [much wine]

1 Tim. 3:11 – Elders’ & Deacons’ Wives: nēphō

Vine: to be free from the influence of intoxicants

Titus 2:2 – Older men: nēphō

Titus 2:3 – Older women: mē oinō pollō dedoulōmenas

Mounce: “to be in bondage, spiritually or morally…”

Brannan: “to be or become entirely dominated by some influence”

The English translations of these phrases usually appear as “not given to wine, not given to much wine, not addicted to wine, not slaves to [much] wine, and sober.

The assumption many people make is that between all these negative (one positive—nēphō) qualifiers there’s a subtle green light for moderation. Thus, “not given to much wine” = “some wine is fine.” Even a brief look at the actual words, paired with the rest of New Testament teaching, should be enough to at least cast doubt on that assumption.

Let’s run with the assumption that warnings against addiction/slavery imply moderation and see where we end up with each group that’s addressed.

Here’s how it supposedly works: Elders? Total abstinence. Deacons? Some but not “too much.” Elders’ and deacons’ wives? Sober. Older women? Moderation, just don’t be enslaved. Older men? Back to sobriety. Got it?

Is that sound exegesis, or closer to a flowchart designed by a bartender?

Look, if Paul intended to say “a little wine is fine,” he could have said it. Instead, he warns against being near wine (mē paroinon) or devoted to much wine (mē oinō pollō prosechontas), or worse, enslaved to it (dedoulōmenas). These aren’t permissions, rather this is a thorough screening process for sobriety for those who would serve as leaders.

The point is not how much wine you can get away with—it’s whether you're the kind of person who desires wine at all.

What’s more likely—that Paul is mapping out tiers of acceptable alcohol use, or exposing the people unfit to lead?

As I’m reading through these qualifications for leadership and come across “not much wine,” and understand it to mean “pour a glass,” am I really being honest with the text?

Is it possible that I can’t hear Paul’s instruction because I’m too busy looking for his permission?

If I tell my son, “Don’t play with fire,” and say to his brother, “Don’t play around big fires,” and to another, “Don’t play with matches,” am I really giving them different instructions?

If they conclude, “I can play with a little fire as long as I’m careful,” have they really understood my warning?

Paul’s writings contain several parallel phrases that follow the same pattern as “not given to wine” and “not given to much wine”—where different words, or degrees are used, but the intended effect or standard is the same.

1 Tim. 3:3 (elders): “Not greedy for money” (μὴ αἰσχροκερδῆ)

1 Tim. 3:8 (deacons): “Not fond of sordid gain” (μὴ αἰσχροκερδεῖς)

Elders and deacons must not be materialistic, driven by profit, or known for chasing money.

We don’t read both verses and conclude: “So deacons can love money a little more than elders?” No—functionally, the expectation is the same.

Ti. 1:7 (elder): “Not quick-tempered”

1 Tim. 3:3 (elder): “Gentle, not quarrelsome”

Again, different wording, but the same practical standard: An elder must have control over his emotions and not provoke conflict.

Is it reasonable to take both passages and conclude: “So as long as he’s only mildly hot-headed, it’s OK”? We know better.

Parsing “not given to wine” vs. “not given to much wine” to justify “moderate” social drinking is like parsing “not greedy for dishonest gain” (Ti. 1:7) to justify greed for honest gain.

It misses the point completely.

Jesus didn’t die to help us flirt with sin's boundaries or so we could get better at walking the line—He came to lead us away from it.

He died so that we would crucify the flesh (Gal. 5:24), so if my main concern is how close I can get to sin, I’ve already missed the point of the Gospel.

Christians don’t ask, “How close can I get to the edge…”

They determine to stay as far from sin as possible to be holy (1 Thess. 5:22; Eph. 5:10; 2 Cor. 7:1).

A Matter of Liberty

Scripture teaches that believers are not to be judged over matters of food and drink. In Colossians 2:16, Paul says, “Therefore let no one pass judgment on you in questions of food and drink…”—suggesting that dietary choices, including the consumption of wine, fall under the category of personal liberty rather than moral law.

Likewise, in Romans 14, Paul addresses “disputable matters” among Christians and warns against causing others to stumble through what we eat or drink. Specifically, in Romans 14:21, he writes, “It is good not to eat meat or drink wine or do anything that causes your brother to stumble.” The very fact that Paul includes wine in this list implies that its consumption is permissible in itself, but should be avoided if it would hurt someone else's conscience.

Therefore, the consumption of wine is not inherently sinful, but like other matters of liberty (such as food, holidays, etc.), it should be approached with wisdom and sensitivity. Paul’s overarching concern is unity and love, not enforcing blanket rules where God has given freedom.

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Interesting take, but the context of both passages has been completely ignored.

Col. 2:16 reads exactly as quoted above but, once again, it’s assumed Paul had social drinking in mind. So what kind of “drink” is Paul actually talking about?

He mentions:

“a festival or a new moon or a Sabbath” (v. 16)

“things which are a mere shadow of what is to come” (v. 17)

This is not about recreational alcohol use, but Jewish dietary laws and ceremonial observances—things like: clean vs. unclean foods (Lev. 11), drink offerings (Num. 28:7), feast observances, and Sabbaths (Lev. 23).

When Paul says, “let no one pass judgement…” he’s not saying, “Buy the six-pack, Jesus is cool with it…” He’s rebuking those trying to bind Old Covenant shadows on Christians. These ceremonial restrictions—drink offerings, clean/unclean food laws—were from the Law of Moses. In Christ, they were no longer binding.

So there’s no authority here to imbibe alcoholic beverages, and to use this verse as a license for social drinking rips it completely out of context. In other words, it’s a category error. Folks who argue along these lines are taking Paul’s words about ceremonial law and trying to apply it to a behavior that’s condemned throughout the New Testament!

What about Romans 14?

Again Paul says, “It is good not to eat meat or drink wine or do anything that causes your brother to stumble” (v. 21), but as with Col. 2:16, it’s simply assumed he has casual drinking in mind.

Don’t disregard the context. Ask yourself: what kind of “wine” is Paul referring to? Is it alcohol for recreation? Or wine used in religious meals and cultural customs—especially among converted Jews and Gentiles with idolatrous pasts? This is the underlying tension throughout this letter because the church at Rome, like many others, was composed of Jew and Gentile followers of Christ.

Remember, Paul begins Romans 14 talking about:

“eating only vegetables” (v. 2)

“regarding one day above another” (v. 5)

He’s addressing matters from their respective backgrounds that still haunted their conscience—questions like: “Was this meat offered to idols?” or “Was this wine used by unbelievers in their rituals?” So these were conscience-based conflicts tied to religious backgrounds; he’s not talking about champagne. So this is another category error as with Col. 2:16.

Furthermore, Christians who try to justify drinking cocktails from Rom. 14 don’t seem to realize their argument inverts Paul’s entire point. In other words, to assume he’s talking about alcohol, and then argue only mature, strong Christians can handle this would upend the main instruction—“It is good NOT to…”

In the context, the strong restrict themselves for the sake of the weak, that’s the bigger picture. Paul’s instruction here is not permission-seeking, it’s self-denial for the sake of others.

He’s not saying: “Go ahead unless someone complains.”

He’s saying: “Even if you could, love says don’t.”

At any rate, if we’re seeking authority to keep our White Claws and wine coolers, we must look elsewhere.

If someone wants to use Rom. 14 or Col. 2 to defend their social drinking, they need to first prove that:

The wine in view is alcohol and used for pleasure, not ritual or symbolic purposes.

The context supports modern social or recreational drinking—not Jewish scruples or idolatrous pasts.

That Paul, who preaches sobriety, self-control, and being above reproach, would contradict himself by endorsing a liberty that inherently dulls the mind and tempts the flesh.

But they can’t. Social drinking isn’t under discussion because drinking alcohol for pleasure is always sinful, thus it cannot be the kind of liberty Paul has in view in Rom. 14 or Col. 2.

These weren’t written so Christians could sip their bourbon in peace. They were written to calm the tension between Jewish and Gentile converts—whose consciences were still bound by the baggage of ritual meals and idol sacrifices. They were written to teach restraint, humility, and how to bear one’s cross for their brethren. Sadly, many wield these texts to teach the opposite, twisting this passage to mean the one refraining from drinking alcohol is spiritually weak, flipping the script on the New Testament’s call to sobriety.

Wine Makes the Heart Glad

The Bible doesn’t just permit wine—it praises it. Throughout Scripture, wine is presented as a gift from God, a sign of His abundance, blessing, and joy.

Psalm 104:14–15:
“He causes the grass to grow for the cattle, and vegetation for the labor of man, so that he may bring forth food from the earth, and wine which makes man's heart glad…”

This isn’t a warning—it’s a celebration. Wine is mentioned in the same breath as bread and oil, other staples of life that God provides for our good.

In fact, many biblical passages present wine as part of God’s covenant blessings:

Ecc 9:7 – “Drink your wine with a joyful heart, for God has already approved your works.”

Amos 9:14 – “They shall plant vineyards and drink their wine.

Pro. 3:9–10 – “Honor the Lord with your wealth... then your barns will be filled... and your vats will overflow with new wine.”

Is. 25:6 – “In a messianic feast, “the Lord of hosts will prepare a lavish banquet... of well-aged wine.”

If wine were inherently dangerous, why would God associate it with joy, celebration, and even the kingdom to come?

The Bible certainly warns against drunkenness, but never condemns wine itself. Jesus was accused of being a “winebibber” when He drank in moderation, and He even instituted the Lord’s Supper with it. Would the Son of God use a morally questionable substance to symbolize His blood?

To call wine dangerous or sinful by default is to undercut God’s own Word. Abuse is sinful—but enjoyment in moderation is not. The same could be said of food, sex, money, or any good gift.

Therefore, enjoying wine responsibly is not sinful, but an act of gratitude—receiving God’s blessing in its proper place, without excess or guilt:

For every creation of God is good, and nothing that is received with thanksgiving should be rejected, because it is sanctified by the word of God and prayer (1 Tim. 4:4-5).

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At this rate, we’ll soon find authority to drink alcohol in every verse of the Bible. I mean if we can’t find permission in the New Testament maybe there’s hope in the Old Testament, right?

Never mind the fact that it was an inferior, anticipatory covenant in which God tolerated numerous behaviors that He no longer permits:

Capricious divorce (Matt. 19:8)

Polygamy (1 Cor. 7:2)

Oaths (Matt. 5:34–37)

Eye-for-eye justice (Matt. 5:38–40)

Unclean food restrictions (Mark 7:19)

Let’s not forget, Jesus “abolished in His flesh the law of commandments and decrees” (Eph. 2:14), thus even if we could find authority for social drinking in the Old Testament verses cited above, they’re no longer binding today.

That’s the first issue.

God tolerated certain behaviors in the Old Testament to manage human hardness (Matt. 19:8), but in the reign of Christ, He calls us to a higher standard of holiness, clarity, and self-denial. We must be careful not to use Old Covenant tolerances to justify what we want to do in the New.

Secondly, are we at a point where every mention of wine in Scripture must mean intoxicating alcohol?

The Hebrew word yayin used in Psalm 104 (like the Greek oinos) can refer to fermented or unfermented grape juice—the context determines which.

Is. 65:8 speaks of “new wine in the cluster” (grapes still on the vine are called “wine”).

Don’t just suppose wine is alcohol everywhere all the time, or that gladness has to mean buzzed, or that blessing is a green-light for social drinking in a new and better covenant than the one the psalmist lived under.

These are critical, reckless assumptions that seem to elbow their way into every passage cited above.

None of the verses come close to teaching God celebrates or commends intoxication. One verse in particular (Pro. 3:10) clearly uses a non-alcoholic term (tirosh), which contradicts the whole argument.

Look, at some point we have to ask ourselves why we’re breaking a sweat prying and wrenching to create a crack in Scripture just big enough to wedge in a glass of wine. If I have to jam a crowbar into my Bible and jump up and down on it to squeeze in social drinking, perhaps I’m not handling Scripture as honestly as I should. I’m not interpreting it—I’m invading it.

In light of all that we’ve considered thus far, should I understand the phrase “makes man’s heart glad” to mean “getting buzzed”? What indicates the wine in Ps. 104 is alcohol? We’re in the Psalms, after all, this is poetry.

Should we go straight for understanding gladness as physiological? Not poetic, cultural, or celebratory in a general sense?

Must gladness and joy in God’s blessings only come from intoxication? It seems to me to be quite a leap to conclude poetic praise of creation equals divine permission to get a buzz.

Don’t forget the Bible also says:

Pro. 15:13 – “A joyful heart makes a cheerful face.”

Ps. 19:8 – “The precepts of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart.”

So “making the heart glad” is a broad phrase. It doesn’t have to mean: “Let’s get tipsy.” Joy is a spiritual virtue, not a chemical reaction (Gal. 5:22-23). The “gladness” that comes from losing sobriety, is not biblical joy. It’s not even real gladness, it’s numbness.

As in previous cases the real trouble comes not from misquoting Scripture, but from imposing meaning and ignoring context.

This debate has never been about whether God created wine or what it can symbolize.

It’s about whether social drinking aligns with the clarity, sobriety, and self-control the New Testament demands.

Carefully rereading Ecclesiastes would offer a clearer picture of what Solomon actually meant. Wine is never glorified for its intoxicating effects, nor held up as a path to holiness or fulfillment. In at least one case (Ecc. 10:19), it’s paired sarcastically with “money fixes everything” to expose a shallow, worldly mindset. It’s not celebration—it’s critique.

The point of Ecc. 9:7 is this: life is brief and unpredictable, so enjoy and be content with gifts from God (food, marriage, and yes, even work).

The phrase “God has already approved your works” means we’re permitted to enjoy His blessings—not that He’s endorsing every action (He’s never done that), rather He’s blessed honest labor and its fruits. Our response? Contentment and thankfulness—not indulgence.

In a covenant where God allowed for wine and strong drink to be part of religious meals and offerings (Deut. 14:26; Num 28:7)—we shouldn’t be surprised if He uses the same familiar imagery in the Old Covenant to describe future spiritual realities.

God commanded and regulated the use of “strong drink” while pointing to something better. Isaiah 25:6 describes a rich feast of fat things and well-aged wine—but this is not a literal menu for Christians.

God’s using the language of Old Covenant blessing—rich food, aged wine, full tables—to describe something far greater: victory, salvation, and eternal fellowship with His people.

It’s a metaphor of abundance, joy, and fellowship. These were symbols—used to help Old Covenant people anticipate blessings beyond their frame of reference.

This is a common pattern in prophecy.

In Isaiah 2, the “mountain of the house of the Lord” isn’t a literal mountain—it’s the church, exalted and filled with all nations (Heb. 12:22–23).

Malachi 1:11 speaks of incense offered among the nations—not because God intended to reauthorize burning incense in worship, but to describe widespread worship in the New Covenant by using Old Covenant terms.

The prophets often used physical blessings (wine, harvests, fattened animals) to describe spiritual realities that would come in Christ as described in the New Testament: “…law is only a shadow of the good things to come, not the realities themselves” (Heb. 10:1) and “…the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit” (Rom. 14:17).

God is preparing a feast—not for our flesh, but for our souls (1 Pet. 1:3-5).

If someone uses Isaiah’s poetry to stock their liquor cabinet, they’ve missed the point entirely and are committing the same fallacies we’ve seen in each argument:

Ignoring covenant specific instructions (i.e. what was allowed under Moses was not always what God ultimately intended, Matt. 19:8).

Ignoring genre of the text (e.g. taking poetic, prophetic, symbolic language as moral instruction).

So to use Old Testament prophecy and poetry to justify a trip to the liquor store now is simply a desperate grasp at straws—not so different from claiming Jesus “drank in moderation.”

Yes, He was accused of being a winebibber (Lk. 7:33-34). Jesus was also accused of being a blasphemer and casting out demons by the power of demons (Jn. 10:33; Matt. 12:27), was there any validity to those charges? His enemies hurled whatever they could, hoping something would stick and undermine His credibility.

As for the Lord’s Supper, Jesus used the cup to point us to the cross and the blood He shed there—not wine tastings.

To reduce His memorial to a license for casual drinking is to dishonor both the moment and the message.

The text never uses the word “wine” (oinos)—only “fruit of the vine” (Matt. 26:29; Mk. 14:25; Lk. 22:18). Nothing here proves He used alcohol, and if someone’s takeaway from reading the institution of the Lord’s Supper is, “Sweet, bring on the chardonnay,” there’s a deeper problem that needs to be addressed.

As for 1 Tim. 4:4-5 giving license to “enjoy wine responsibly”—this is simply another category error.

Go back one verse:

“They will prohibit marriage and require abstinence from certain foods that God has created to be received with thanksgiving by those who believe and know the truth” (1 Tim. 4:3).

Paul is rebuking false teachers who were promoting asceticism—teaching that marriage and certain foods were inherently sinful.

The reality is: Marriage is good. Food is good. These things are to be received with thanksgiving—not rejected as unholy.

Paul is defending God-approved blessings against man-made restrictions—not endorsing the use of any and everything people want to justify.

This verse doesn’t say “everything you put in your body is good.” That would be absurd.

Would someone argue:

Cocaine is from a plant—created by God—so it’s good?

Arsenic occurs in nature—receive it with thanksgiving?

That’s the logical outcome of their argument if you interpret “everything God made is good” without context.

It’s a category error because alcohol is not in the category Paul is talking about.

Paul is addressing:

God-ordained relationships (marriage)

Clean foods that had been wrongly condemned

He is not discussing addictive substances or behaviors that impair judgment, mock, destroy, and are explicitly forbidden in the New Testament (Eph. 5:18; 1 Pet. 4:3).

You won’t find Truth by misapplying metaphors, twisting poetry, ignoring covenant context, or forcing texts to say what they never meant. At some point, the question isn’t “Can I drink?”—it’s “Do I look anything like the sober-minded man God calls me to be?” Maybe the real issue isn’t what the Bible allows—but why some of us are still standing over its pages, crowbar in hand, trying to wedge our wine into the will of God.

Last Word

We’ve gone over several passages, and I hope this study has been beneficial and convicting. If you’re still not convinced you’re sinning in your recreational or casual use of alcohol, allow me to be frank:

It will cost you your soul.

The sobriety called for in the New Testament goes far beyond simply staying away from alcohol. It’s a call to live alert—be disciplined, clear-minded, and ready—for prayer, for battle, and for Christ’s return at any moment.

In other words, abstaining from alcohol is the baseline—not the goal.

If we’re honest, most of the pushback against biblical sobriety doesn’t come from lack of evidence—it comes from deeply held habits, emotions, and assumptions.

Stop bending Scripture to fit your will, start bending your will to fit Scripture.

This is fundamentally a heart issue, not an academic or interpretive one.

“To the pure, all things are pure; but to those who are defiled and unbelieving, nothing is pure, but both their mind and their conscience are defiled” (Ti. 1:15).

This verse doesn’t just address outward actions—it exposes motives and filters.

Here’s the thing, if you want to drink badly enough, you’re going to twist miracles into permissions and warnings into exceptions. Along the way you’ll have to contort yourself into some gnarly, intellectual yoga poses to get there.

If your desire to drink alcohol has you digging through Greek lexicons, parsing ancient vineyard practices, debating fermentation levels, and building a three-hour defense for your next cocktail…you're not being led by the Spirit—you’re being led by your flesh and justifying it in Christ’s Name.

No one who’s crucified himself with Christ begs for a right to take the edge off with a drink. They beg for more of Christ. More clarity. More influence. More self-control. Not less.

If the clearest thing Scripture says is, “Be sober”—and the clearest thing alcohol does is make you less sober—then we’re done here. You’re not confused. You’re just conflicted—between Scripture and your cravings. And you’re leaning so hard into your cravings, you sincerely believe you have scriptural grounds to sin.

This isn’t about liberty. It’s about what you love—and what you’re willing to risk to hold onto it. Your clarity, your example, your influence, your readiness for Christ’s return—all for a buzz?

Jesus is better.

Better than the numbness alcohol offers.

Better than the buzz that fades.

Better than the false confidence.

Better than endless self-justification.

Until He becomes your joy, your argument will always serve your appetite.