18 years old, apocalypse, balvenie, end of days, eschatology, glenmorangie, lutheran, macallan, review, scoresby, scotch, the glenlivet, theology, Whiskey, whisky
The world is coming undone. It’s true. Let me explain.
There is a reason that The Glenlivet is one of the best-selling Scotch whisky lines in the world. No matter which edition you choose, it will be a smooth, high-quality whisky, and it will be accessibly priced to the connoisseur and novice alike. But Scoresby, perhaps the crappiest Scotch on the planet, is also one of the best-selling whiskies. And this is how I know that the Word of the Lord is true—that is, that the Lord’s patience with this world is running out, that inter-dimensional paradoxes are being allowed to exist, troubling and turbulent, ultimately causing the whole of the cosmos to become undone.
I mean, doesn’t the Lord say in Matthew’s Gospel, “When you see the abomination that causes desolation standing in the holy place…” that we are at the End of Days? Well, it is happening, brothers. I can testify! I saw a row of Scoresby bottles ever-so-near to a handful of The Balvenie, The Macallan, and Glenmorangie editions, and the only thing between them—The Glenlivet 18-year-old edition. The world is coming undone, folks. And it would appear that The Glenlivet may be the only thing (from a Scotch whisky perspective) holding it together.
Aristides, the Early Church Father, is quoted as saying that the only reason the world continues to exist is because of the prayers of the Christians. If they cease prayer, the world will end. Since I am pretty sure that God keeps tabs on the whisky market, maybe even working it somewhere into His eschatological equation, The Glenlivet appears to be serving somewhere in the matrix of God’s hidden will as a suitable whisky, working among the majority as a Jeremiah-type “bronze wall” of defense (Jeremiah 1:18), separating the holy and unholy, directing the masses to what is good and away from unrighteousness.
The Glenlivet 18, in particular, is an exceptional warrior in this holy war. The nose, a prayer of sweet incense rising from the glass. Give it a swirl, and the prayers multiply, offering back to God with care what He first gave in abundance. The sweet and sugary smell suggests an initial invocation of budding spring—perhaps fruit trees.
The palate continues the petitions on behalf of the world, first and most notably giving thanks for sherried oak casks and fruit and the hint of peat.
The finish, that is, the benediction, ends with swift dryness, leaving behind a hint of sweetness, reminding the petitioner that it was indeed good to be on bended knee here. The finish fulfills, encouraging return, but then sends the warrior back to his vocation to fight the good fight, aligning between and against Scoresby and all that would assail The Balvenie, The Macallan, and the mortal existence of humanity.
The Glenlivet is indeed a plentiful and most necessary foot soldier in the war between hell and the “gifts of God for the people of God.” With this, I say, get some. It’s great, it’s reasonably priced, and you are helping to keep the world spinning.
Pastor you convinced me. I am going to try your Glenlivet. I just have to find it.
Wonderful! Let me know if you can’t find it. I’ll send you in the right direction.