How a Beer Made Me a Better Christian

We interrupt the regularly scheduled programming (the series on what the Bible says happens when we die) to bring you an Oktoberfest-inspired blog post! Let’s talk about how one cold beer made me a better Christian and better teacher of Paul’s letters. Prost!

The year was 2005. My husband Adam and I had moved from Michigan to North Carolina and bought our first house. Home ownership brought with it a host of responsibilities we never had in our apartment days, and we spent many weekends pruning vines, cutting grass, and making various repairs. One hot day—not long after we moved in—we were working in our yard, and our neighbor Don was working in his yard across the street. We stopped to chat as we all dragged loads of grass clippings to the curb. He offered us a beer under the shade of his back porch.

It was then I made the egregious mistake. I responded to his invitation by saying:“what kind of beer?” And my husband, usually very calm, nearly dragged me across the street back to our garage where he reprimanded me: “It doesn’t matter what kind of beer it is! Him offering us a beer was an act of friendship and hospitality!” It has been twenty years, and I have never forgotten this moment.

Fast forward to 2025. I am teaching a course on 1 Corinthians for a local United Methodist Church. 1 Corinthians’ entire message is based on the example of the cross: giving up one’s privilege or preference in order that others may live or participate in the church’s life more fully (1 Cor 1:28). It doesn’t matter what you know or what you like; it matters who you know and who you are in fellowship with (8:1-3).

Here, in 1 Corinthians, is the story of my humbly accepting a beer from a neighbor. At the time of my earlier story, I favored dark beers (my husband refers to this as my being a beer snob, but let’s not label people, shall we?). But if I was truly following the example of Jesus the Lord, I would—should!—not consider my taste or preference if it meant another being edified or welcomed into my life.And in that moment of questioning the pedigree of the beer, I only thought of myself and not of my (literal and metaphorical) neighbor.

Now, let me qualify this by stating that I had no moral or physical objection to drinking alcohol. Of course, you should not compromise your moral or health standards. But if the issue is solely preferential, those of us who followChrist should willingly set aside our preferences or privilege when necessary to establish and nurture relationships.

In 1 Corinthians, the Apostles Paul and Sosthenes write: “But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are” (1 Cor 1:27-28). They refer to Jesus, who took the unglamorous, undignified, unsophisticated position of a man on a cross—a man who might have drunkNatural Lite or Milwaukee’s Best…a man I claim to live my life by.

In that sweltering front yard, under the shade of a pecan tree, I accepted a beer I never would have chosen for myself. I listened to my neighbor tell stories of his life. And I acutely felt the presence of God.

‍