Back in 2001, my husband and I were attending a Pentecostal church whose pastor had been a recovering alcoholic. Like other protestant ecclesial communities, this one was particularly Prohibitionist. Since I was a member, I submitted myself to the rules of the leadership. However, being raised Catholic, I didn’t see any problem with alcohol, unless an individual had a problem with alcohol in which case, yes, it should be avoided. Personally, I could take it or leave it, so I had no problem leaving it.
We lived in a dry county in a tiny community where there was a decent grocery store, but to get certain things, I had to drive an hour to the closest Wal-Mart which, being in a wet county, had a beer and wine section in the back of the store near the dairy section.
As I was finishing up my shopping for the week, I picked up milk and eggs, but passing the wine section to leave the store, I felt the Lord prompt me to buy a bottle of wine.
I self-righteously responded, “Oh, no, Lord. Not me. I don’t drink alcohol.” And I continued toward the cash registers. The further I got from the back of the store, the more the encounter bothered me, the more I felt the displeasure of the Lord. Halfway to the front, the displeasure was so intense, I had to turn around.
Standing in front of the wine section and still not certain I was doing the right thing, I simply closed my eyes and prayed, “okay, Lord, I’m here, but I don’t know anything about wine. Show me which one to buy and I will.”
I opened my eyes and one of the bottles seemed to glow and outshine all the others. I looked at the price. It was one of the most expensive bottles in the store. Yikes! I thought. Ten dollars! My husband will kill me for spending so much money on a bottle of wine! To say nothing about buying wine in the first place.
I took it off the shelf, trying to think of what I would tell my husband. But he wasn’t the only one I was thinking about. I knew my pastor’s wife and other people from our church shopped in this store. I quickly put the bottle in the cart carefully arranging other items on top of it. Then quickly made my way to the front of the store.
On the drive home I had lots of time to rationalize why the Lord would have me buy a bottle of wine. Maybe we would have a guest who would like some—even though everyone we knew never drank.
As I prepared dinner that night, I felt the Lord prompt me to open the bottle for us to have with dinner. Just then, my husband came in the kitchen, looked at me quizzically and asked about the bottle. I told him what happened. Although he was raised in a different denomination that also didn’t approve of consumption of alcohol for reasons beyond my understanding, he did enjoy beer and wine and his disapproving look lasted only a moment. Who was he to argue with the Lord!
