The Serpent in the Cup: The Deceitfulness of Drunkenness Text: Proverbs 23:29-35
Introduction: A Drunken Culture
We live in a culture that is, in many ways, defined by its relationship with the bottle. Our advertisements, our movies, our social gatherings, and our celebrations are frequently soaked in alcohol. The world preaches a gospel of sophisticated indulgence, where the right drink in the right glass is the key to relaxation, camaraderie, and success. At the same time, we are surrounded by the wreckage that this indulgence produces: broken homes, shattered careers, violent crime, and the quiet despair of addiction. The world wants to have it both ways. It wants to celebrate the party and then decry the hangover, without ever connecting the two.
Into this confusion, the Word of God speaks with startling clarity. The Bible is not a teetotaling document written by grim-faced prohibitionists. Scripture is clear that wine is a gift from God, given to gladden the heart of man (Psalm 104:15). Our Lord's first miracle was to turn water into wine, and not just any wine, but the good stuff. The Bible condemns drunkenness, not drinking. This is a crucial distinction that a certain kind of pinched, baptistic piety has often failed to make, and in so doing, has often ceded the entire territory of feasting and celebration to the devil.
But our passage today is not about the proper, celebratory use of wine. It is a stark, unflinching portrait of its abuse. It is a field sobriety test administered by the Holy Spirit. And it is not simply a warning against getting falling-down drunk. It is a diagnosis of the heart that "lingers long over wine," the heart that seeks out intoxication as an escape, as a medicine for sorrow, or as a source of identity. This passage shows us that the problem is not ultimately with the substance in the cup, but with the sin in the heart. Drunkenness is a form of self-medication for a spiritual disease, and the supposed cure is a poison that only deepens the sickness. It is an attempt to find in a bottle what can only be found in God: joy, peace, and fellowship.
Solomon here gives us a series of rhetorical questions, a vivid description of the temptation, and a brutal accounting of the consequences. He pulls back the curtain on the lie of intoxication and shows us the serpent coiled at the bottom of the cup.
The Text
Who has woe? Who has sorrow? Who has contentions? Who has complaining? Who has wounds without cause? Who has redness of eyes?
Those who linger long over wine, Those who go to search out mixed wine.
Do not look on the wine when it glistens red, When it sparkles in the cup, When it goes down smoothly;
At the end, like a serpent it bites, And like a viper it stings.
Your eyes will see strange things And your heart will speak perverse things.
And you will be like one who lies down in the heart of the sea, Or like one who lies down on the top of a mast.
“They struck me, but I did not become ill; They beat me, but I did not know it. When shall I awake? I will seek yet another.”
(Proverbs 23:29-35 LSB)
The Unhappy Drinker's Catechism (vv. 29-30)
The passage opens with a series of six rapid-fire questions, painting a portrait of a man whose life is unraveling.
"Who has woe? Who has sorrow? Who has contentions? Who has complaining? Who has wounds without cause? Who has redness of eyes?" (Proverbs 23:29)
This is the drunkard's resume. This is the fruit of a life given over to intoxication. Let's take them one by one. "Woe" is a cry of grief, a deep-seated misery. "Sorrow" is the ongoing state of that misery. The man who seeks joy in the bottle finds only its opposite. "Contentions" refers to strife, quarrels, and brawls. Alcohol is a social lubricant that all too often lubricates the path to violence. It lowers inhibitions and inflames pride, a combustible combination. "Complaining" is the constant muttering of a man whose life is not working, who blames his circumstances, his wife, his boss, everyone but the idol he serves every evening.
"Wounds without cause" is a tragically vivid picture. This is the man who wakes up with a black eye, a split lip, or a collection of bruises and has no memory of how he got them. He was in a fight he can't recall, or he fell down a flight of stairs in a stupor. His body bears the evidence of a life lived out of control. And "redness of eyes" is the physical sign, the bloodshot marker of his dissipation. It is the outward sign of the inward inflammation.
And Solomon immediately provides the answer to his own questions in the next verse:
"Those who linger long over wine, Those who go to search out mixed wine." (Proverbs 23:30)
The problem is not the man who has a glass of wine with his dinner. The problem is the man who "lingers long" over it. This is the man for whom drinking is not an accompaniment to a meal or a celebration, but is the event itself. He is a connoisseur of intoxication. He goes to "search out mixed wine," which refers to wines that were spiced and strengthened to increase their potency. He is not seeking flavor; he is seeking a kick. He is on a quest, not for refreshment, but for oblivion. This is the heart of the issue. The sin is not in the use of the gift, but in the abuse of the gift, an abuse that flows from a heart seeking to fill a God-shaped hole with a bottle-shaped plug.
The Seductive Lie (v. 31)
Next, Solomon warns against the initial attraction, the sensory appeal of the temptation.
"Do not look on the wine when it glistens red, When it sparkles in the cup, When it goes down smoothly;" (Proverbs 23:31)
This is a command to guard the eye-gate. The temptation begins with the looking. Sin always markets itself well. It puts on a good show. The wine is red, it sparkles, it catches the light. It promises sophistication and pleasure. It "goes down smoothly," offering no initial resistance. This is the great lie of all sin. It presents itself as beautiful, desirable, and harmless. The bait is attractive, but it hides a hook.
The command "do not look" is a call for radical amputation. For the man who is tempted to linger long, the man for whom one drink is never enough, the only safe course is to not even begin. This is not a universal command for all Christians to abstain, but it is a specific command for the man who knows his weakness. If you are prone to drunkenness, you must not entertain the thought. You must not gaze at the menu. You must not walk down that aisle in the grocery store. You must starve the desire by refusing to feed it with your eyes and your imagination. For the alcoholic, moderation is a myth. The first drink is the one that gets you drunk.
The Serpent's Bite (vv. 32-34)
After describing the smooth beginning, Solomon reveals the brutal end. The pleasure is temporary, but the poison is potent.
"At the end, like a serpent it bites, And like a viper it stings. Your eyes will see strange things And your heart will speak perverse things. And you will be like one who lies down in the heart of the sea, Or like one who lies down on the top of a mast." (Proverbs 23:32-34)
The smooth drink turns into a venomous snake. The initial delight gives way to a deadly poison that courses through the veins. This is the nature of sin's deceit. It promises life and delivers death. The hangover is not just physical; it is spiritual. The "strange things" the eyes see are hallucinations, distortions of reality. The drunkard loses his grip on the world God made and begins to live in a world of shadows and phantoms. His perception is shot.
And his speech follows his sight. "Your heart will speak perverse things." The Hebrew word for perverse means twisted or distorted. The tongue, loosened by alcohol, reveals the corruption of the heart. Secrets are spilled, blasphemies are uttered, foolishness is broadcast. The man's reason is drowned, and the raw sewage of his fallen nature comes bubbling to the surface.
The final two images are of profound instability. To be "like one who lies down in the heart of the sea" is to be overwhelmed, tossed about by forces beyond your control, with no solid ground beneath you. To be "like one who lies down on the top of a mast" is to be in a position of extreme and foolish peril. One lurch of the ship, one gust of wind, and you are plunged into the abyss. This is the state of the drunkard. He has abandoned the solid rock of God's reality for a life of perpetual, self-induced chaos. He is living at the top of a mast in the middle of a hurricane, and calling it a good time.
The Addict's Delusion (v. 35)
The final verse is perhaps the most terrifying, for it is spoken from the drunkard's own perspective. It is a portrait of complete self-deception and bondage.
"“They struck me, but I did not become ill; They beat me, but I did not know it. When shall I awake? I will seek yet another.”" (Proverbs 23:35)
Here is the man who has suffered the wounds without cause, and he is so numb, so disconnected from reality, that he doesn't even feel it. "They beat me, but I did not know it." His sin has anesthetized him to its own consequences. He is like a patient with leprosy who cannot feel the fire that is consuming his own hand. This is the hardening effect of sin. It deadens the conscience. It sears the nerve endings of the soul.
And what is his conclusion after all this woe, sorrow, strife, and injury? Does he repent? Does he cry out for deliverance? No. His first thought upon waking is, "When shall I awake? I will seek yet another." He believes the solution to the problems caused by drinking is more drinking. He is trapped in a circular hell of his own making. The serpent has not only bitten him but has wrapped its coils around him, and he has come to love his chains. This is the definition of addiction. It is idolatry in its most pathetic form. The thing he worships for deliverance is the very thing that is destroying him, and he cannot see it.
The Only True Wine
This passage is a grim diagnosis, but the gospel provides the only cure. The man at the end of this proverb is utterly helpless. He is enslaved, blinded, and numb. He cannot free himself any more than a man at the bottom of the sea can swim to shore with an anchor chained to his leg. He needs a savior. He needs someone to break the chains and pull him from the deep.
The problem of the drunkard is that he is seeking a false communion. He is looking for a spirit in a bottle to give him joy and fellowship. But the gospel offers us true communion with the living God. At the Last Supper, Jesus took a cup of wine, a gift of God, and filled it with new and glorious meaning. He said, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood" (Luke 22:20). He offers us a drink that does not lead to woe and sorrow, but to forgiveness and eternal life. He offers us a joy that is not manufactured, but real. He offers us a peace that is not the numbness of a stupor, but the true rest of a soul reconciled to its Maker.
The command in Ephesians is not simply "do not be drunk with wine," but it comes with a glorious replacement: "but be filled with the Spirit" (Ephesians 5:18). The Christian life is not one of grim abstinence from false pleasures, but of glad partaking in true pleasure. We are called to be intoxicated, not with fermented grapes, but with the Holy Spirit. We are to be so filled with the life of God that we sing and make melody in our hearts to the Lord, giving thanks always for all things.
If you find yourself in the pages of this proverb, if you are lingering long over the wine, if you are seeking escape in the bottom of a glass, the answer is not to try harder. The answer is to despair of yourself and to flee to Christ. He is the one who gives living water to the thirsty. He is the one who provides the new wine of the kingdom. The serpent in the cup promises joy and delivers death. Jesus Christ endured death to give us everlasting joy. Turn from the lie in the bottle and drink deeply of the truth of the gospel.