Our house shrinks a little more every single day of corona-quarantine. Right now, as I type these words, the walls and the ceiling feel as though they are closing in on me. Crushing. Pressing. Like so many others, our family is wading through the unfamiliar and uncomfortable new rhythm of working from home, schooling from home and socially distancing ourselves. Similarly, other facets of our lives are crushed and pressed in almost unbearable ways right now, too. Our resources. I can’t even look at our retirement account statements, let alone count our rolls of toilet paper. Our patience and stamina. Perhaps even our spirits. But what if all the crushing and the pressing bring new wine? In other words, what if the stress and turmoil ultimately yields something valuable in us?
Ever heard the song “New Wine” by Hillsong (words and music by Brooke Ligertwood)? Well, it’s been a favorite of mine ever since I first heard it. Little did I know, however, what kind of new meaning the lyrics would have in light of our current global situation.
VERSE 1:
In the crushing
In the pressing
You are making new wine
In the soil I now surrender
You are breaking new ground
PRE-CHORUS:
So I yield to You and to Your careful hand
When I trust You I don’t need to understand
CHORUS:
Make me Your vessel
Make me an offering
Make me whatever You want me to be
I came here with nothing
But all You have given me
Jesus bring new wine out of me
Crushing vs pressing
Before researching this blog post, I assumed crushing and pressing were synonymous with one another. Not so! In the wine making process, crushing the grapes means breaking their skins and releasing the “free run” juices so that fermentation can begin. The sugary pulp of juice and skins created by crushing isn’t enough, though. Nope. Despite all that mechanical crushing, there is still quite a bit of juice remaining in the grapes. This is where pressing comes in.
Pressing involves adding physical pressure to the grape pulp to release every last drop of juice out of the remaining solid parts. The used up skins are thereby discarded, and the pressed juice can be used alongside the free run juice to create a unique blend. Crushing and pressing bring new wine.
It takes experience, finesse and care.
I found it interesting during my nerdy research, too, that the experience of the wine maker is key to the pressing process. Pressing is a delicate step that requires finesse and care. For example, apply too much pressure, and the grape seeds may rupture, introducing harsh tannins and unpleasant plant tastes to the wine. Conversely, apply too little pressure, and you leave behind valuable juice.
Truth be told, I never give my malbec or prosecco this much thought when I pour a glass for another virtual happy hour or game night with my socially distanced friends and family. I uncork the wine. I pour the wine, and I enjoy the wine. No finesse required on my part. I trust the process that got the grapes into the bottle.
Jesus knew wine.
Jesus certainly was familiar with wine. His first public miracle involved turning plain water into some most excellent wine at a wedding reception (John 2: 1-11). He used wine as a powerful symbol during his final Passover meal, instructing His followers (then and now) to remember Him and the new covenant His sacrificially spilled blood afforded all of us (Matthew 26: 27-28). He was offered sour wine while dying on the cross (Matthew 27:48; Luke 23:36; John 19: 28-29).
Jesus also used wine references in his parables and teachings. He used the imagery of new wine and old wineskins in Mark 2:22. Similarly, he likened the kingdom of heaven to “a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire workers for his vineyard” in Matthew 20:1. He even refers to God as the “vinedresser” in John 15:1. And just in case you don’t already know (I didn’t), the term vinedresser means someone who cultivates and prunes grape vines to yield the best harvest. It is a labor-intensive, year-round commitment. In biblical times, and still on smaller vineyards today, the vinedresser was typically also the actual vinter (wine maker).
So, Jesus essentially called God a wine maker, huh? Interesting analogy. Now here’s a compelling question. What if we trusted our own figurative crushing and pressing the same way we trust the literal wine making process when we pour our favorite red, white or rose?
Take another listen
Let’s take another collective look (and listen) at our song with our new understanding of wine making.
Did you hear it this time? Really hear it? “So I yield to You and to Your careful hand. When I trust You I don’t need to understand.” In the crushing and the pressing, Jesus is making new wine. He is breaking new ground. He can take our grief/fear/anger, and transform us into something new. No doubt, we will all be different when this chapter passes. Let Jesus make you something better – whatever He wants you to be.
Crushing and pressing bring new wine. So, trust the process. Trust the experienced Vinedresser. Stay strong, friends, and be encouraged.
Featured image by Free-Photos from Pixabay.
