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Paul tells the Ephesians that “we are his workmanship (ποιημα), created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them” (ESV). ποιημα (related to the verb ποιεω) means “that which is made,” hence work, creation” (BDAG).

It is etymologically connected to poème (Middle French), poema (Latin), and ποιημα (Greek).

Because of this, you often hear the idea of the English “poem” creeping back through the centuries and used to define the nuance of ποιημα. And so we hear assertions such as:

“Poiema emphasizes God as the master Designer, the universe as His creation” (Rom 1:20).

“As the artist seeks to express himself in his work, so God expresses Himself in us.”

“You are His work, you are His poem. A poem is a thing of grace. A thing of beauty, God wants your life to be a thing of grace and of beauty and as God works in your life it will become a thing of grace and of beauty; you are His poem.”

“But the beauty of God’s workmanship is not displayed in posing. That beauty can only he displayed when we are put to work fulfilling His purpose in us.”

These kinds of statement make picturesque sermon illustrations, but unfortunately have no basis in truth.

Jesus has just chastised Nicodemus for not understanding, and then he adds v 13. “No one has ascended into heaven except he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man” (ESV). This is the normal translation of ei me. The source of Jesus heavenly knowledge is the fact that he descended from heaven.

But notice the problem with timing. No one has ascended (past time) except the Incarnate Jesus who has descended. But how can Jesus at the beginning of his ministry say that he has (past item) ascended? Did John make a mistake?

The NLT’s solution is to translate this way: “No one has ever gone to heaven and returned. But the Son of Man has come down from heaven.” “But” is the translation of the idiom ei me, which the ESV and most others translate as “except.”

The difference is significant. According to the NLT, Jesus is saying that no one has ever ascended to heaven and thus cannot speak with the divine authority he possesses. Jesus, on the other hand, descended from heaven. This hint at his pre-existence is proof of his divine authority to speak divine things. The question is, can the Greek idiom bear this meaning?

I have been receiving requests lately about words and grammar that all relate to the issue of annihilationism and potentially universalism. I don’t know if these connections are explicit in the mind of the writers, but that is the common thread. Interesting.

Recently someone asked about the precise meaning of the Greek verb apollumi. Perhaps this is a good time to talk about how words have meanings.

A word does not have “a” meaning. A word as a bundle of meanings. Different people use different metaphors, but I like the image of a bundle. The technical term for this is “semantic range.” Words are like bundles full of many sticks. Some words have a few sticks; some have many sticks. But every word has a bundle or meanings. This is true in any language. Perhaps you are able to think of a word that has only one meaning, but that is rare.

When your mind is looking for just the right word to say, it is analyzing bundles of meanings, looking for just the right stick for that particular context, and then selects the word. There are many factors that go into the selection process, factors of nuance, emphasis, precision, etc. Is it okay to say “go,” or is the emphatic “run” more appropriate, or perhaps the more specific “enter.” But whatever be the specifics, it is the context that determines which word is used and what stick is intended.

As I continue down the list in Mark Strauss’ paper, I am finding it easier and easier to find more with which I disagree, and I am being reminded how fundamentally different formal and functional translations are. The ESV is a good example of one, and the TNIV of the other, but never the two shall meet I suspect.

1 Tim 3:8 says that a deacon must be self-controlled in speech (“not double-tongued” ESV), in drink (“not addicted to much wine”), and in one’s desire for wealth (“not greedy for dishonest gain”). Mark comments that the the ESV “sounds like a mock ‘Indian-speak’ (with forked-tongue) or some strange alien creature” and adds that the word means “‘insincere,’ ‘lacking integrity,’ ‘hypocritical,’ or even ‘two-faced.’”

Before jumping in, let me say something about humor in academic circles. Mark is a funny guy (remember, we are friends). And yet it seems that in academic circles we think that if it is said with humor, we can say anything we like. Mark’s presentation elicited more laughter than I have ever heard at an ETS paper. But did the humor in truth hide the lack of academic discussion and debate we had all hoped to hear in the room? By using humor as a tool of debate, haven’t we in essence gone outside of academic debate. Ridiculing a position can sway the masses, but it should have no effect on us.

For the life of me, I cannot remember the discussion of this word in the ESV committee, and I noticed that my own translation in my commentary is “gossips.” But I am pretty sure of why we went with “double-tongued.” We simply do not know what the word truly means.

I am a bit surprised I haven’t been asked this question earlier, but I did just receive one about the different words for love in Greek. How many youth talks have been given on the different types of love, based on the different Greek words? More than I can count, for sure.

There are four basic nouns meaning “love,” and many derivations from these. I am going to rely on my Dictionary for the basic presentation of the data.

φιλεω was the general verb for “love.” It ha a wide range of meanings, stretching from hospitality to affection to love, even “to kiss.” It is not necessarily a softened form of love, and is used of God’s love for his Son and our love for God. For example, “the Father loves the Son and shows him all he does” (John 5:20). Paul warns the Corinthians, “If anyone does not love the Lord — a curse be on him” (1 Cor 6:22). Jesus loved Lazarus (John 11:3).

εραω (ερως) was basically sexual love between a man and a woman. BDAG lists it’s gloss as, “to feel passionately about, have a longing for, feel fervently about.“ It does not occur in the New Testament.

στεργω is more the idea of affection and is used for a person’s affection for others, for their god, or even their dog (see Verbrugge’s Abridged Dictionary of New Testament Theology). It does not occur in the New Testament except in compounds.

Something hit me the other day. I was reading through Hebrews and came to the encouragement of 12:1-5. Many saints have gone before us, faithful to the end of their lives, and are watching us as we travel the same road. We are to keep our eyes on Jesus, who also remained faithful through the cross because he saw the joy waiting for him. The audience of Hebrews had not yet become martyrs, and they are God’s sons (“children” if you prefer), and so are not to grow weary or fainthearted.

But at v5b I have always felt a disconnect where it says we will be disciplined, reproved, and chastised by the Lord, as a father disciplines his children. How exactly is punishment for sins an encouragement?

Yes, I understand the argument (as an exegete and a father) that the loving thing to do is confront sin, and the hateful thing to do is ignore it. I understand that eventually children come to “respect” (v 9) their father, perhaps years after the disciplining stops. But still v 5bff. read as a disconnect.

And then this week it hit me. What does “discipline” mean? I had been allowing the “reprove” and “chastise” to control my understanding; I read “discipline” purely in remedial terms. Now certainly this is true. When we sin, our Loving Father shows us our sin and exercises, shall we say, corrective discipline. To do otherwise would not be love. But is this all that “discipline” means? Does this passage apply only to God’s children when we sin?

I have been thinking a lot lately about my personal mission statement. In past years, I never liked mission statements. They seemed to be unnecessary wastes of time when I could actually be doing something.

But when I went into the pulpit and a thousand different needs and many people presented their pet projects and needs, I realized that if there was not a focus in ministry there would be nothing accomplished. I was opposed to “church programs” as a general rule because so often they detracted from the most important things, but what were those “most important things”?

So I worked hard to try and focus on a Biblical mission statement — what was at the core of Jesus’ expectations for his children? I came up with this: “We exist to worship God; by proclaiming the glory of God, the supremacy of Christ, and the power of the Spirit; in the making of new and fully devoted disciples.” Pretty good, but too long for people to remember and it did not contain the Greatest Commandment, to love God and one another.

As I kept working on the statement, I came to realize two things. As the leader of the church, the mission of the organization had to be wrapped up in my personal mission, since it was my understanding of who I was and what Christ had called me to do that was controlling what I preached about. Secondly, there were two ideas that kept coming to my mind. (a) All things exist for the glory of God. (b) My life is to be changed: transformation.

That is the question of Galatians 3:24. I was reminded of this question this morning as I listen to my nephew preach a good sermon on Galatians 3.

Dave preaches from the NIV, so in v 24 he read, “So the law was put in charge to lead us to Christ that we might be justified by faith.” “Put in charge” is a colorless phrase that conveys a very basic meaning of authority, but it does convey meaning to almost any reader.

The NASB (also NKJV and ASV) has “become our tutor,” which defines a little more closely what the NIV means by “charge.” It is probably meant to reflect the KJV “schoolteacher.” The problem is that the Greek term παιδαγωγος evidently does not contain the sense of “teacher.” BDAG defines the word as, “the man, usu. a slave … whose duty it was to conduct a boy or youth … to and from school and to superintend his conduct.” They offer the gloss “one who has responsibility for someone who needs guidance, guardian, leader, guide” and specifically states that the word does not include the nuance of “teacher.”

A few years ago I heard a man announce that we have worked through the worship wars and that the next war would be in the area of ecclesiology, our doctrine of the church. As I was personally enmeshed in worship wars, I wondered why he thought we had passed through the hymn vs. chorus, organ vs drum debate. I don’t think that debate has been settled, at least for churches committed to cross-generational ministries.

But his comment about ecclesiology intrigued me. What exactly is the church? How do you define it? What is the difference between a Bible study, a para-church organization, a church, and the church.

I remember the first time I was involved in the discussion as to whether seminary students in chapel could take communion. The debate was much more intense than I expected. “Absolutely not,” one set of professors decreed. We are not the church, and communion can only be served in the church. I was flabbergasted. Here were seminary professors asserting something without biblical warrant (my opinion).

When asked what the church is, they responded with the traditional reformed answer. The church is where the gospel is taught rightly, the sacraments served properly, and church discipline exercise. Of course, this definition has virtually nothing to do with the biblical text and more to do with the reformers attempt to distinguish themselves from the Roman Catholic church.

Someone asked me the other day about the precise meaning of the Greek word ψαλλω and any relationships it has, if any, to the ancient debate of musical instruments in worship.

I hesitate to blog on this because I am sure there has been much discussion in the Worship Wars literature about this and I am not aware of the pitfalls lying in wait for me. (Can pitfalls "lie in wait" or am I mixing my metaphors? Oh well, you understand.) My books on worship are at school and I can't get to them. So much for disclaimers.

But the person mentioned that some lexicons support one position, and others lexicons support the other. Let's see.

The latest version of BDAG gives this meaning to ψαλλω: "to sing songs of praise, with or without instrumental accompaniment." The suggested glosses are "sing, sing praise." The cognate noun ψαλμος is defined as "song of praise, psalm and is used in the NT as a reference to the Psalms or more generally to a hymn of praise."