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Part of the human side of the inspiration process is the author’s use of metaphors, figures of speech, and all the other tools for making the language robust and descriptive. The authors of Scripture could have written in plain, third grade level, boring Greek. But they didn’t.

Unfortunately, often translations tend to flatten the language. Take for example Romans 6:4. In the ESV we wrote, “We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life” (also in the KJV and NASB). “Walk” is a well-known metaphor to describe how we live. It paints a picture that communicates both the words used and the meaning intended.

It is somewhat surprising, then, to find the metaphor interpreted in other translations as “live a new life” (TNIV, cf. NLT). Even the NET Bible follows the pattern, although the metaphor is explained in the footnote.

One of the subtle clues Greek gives to its readers is how it views a series of words. For example, Jesus says to the Samaritan woman at the well, that "an hour is coming and now is when true worshipers will worship the father in spirit and truth." One of the exegetical debates of this verse surrounds the identity of the series of two words, "spirit" and "truth."

But here is where the Greek holds a hint that cannot be easily conveyed in English. There is only one preposition, "in" (en). This is Greek's way of telling the reader that the two objects of the preposition, "spirit" and "truth," are to be viewed as a unit, not two separate entities.

But how close a unit? Again we are reminded that Greek grammar does not often settle an exegetical issue, but rather shows us the range of possible meaning. What settles the issue is, as always, context. "Context is king."

I grew up in a culture that seemed to separate faith and reason. Faith was the requirement for a religious experience while reason was the more advanced and scientific approach to understanding the nature of reality. No one specifically taught me this but I gathered the comparison both from the classroom and the Sunday School class.

Obviously, I thought, science deals with reality and religion with that other realm of existence. We could measure reality but we had to experience spirituality. Matter could be empirically tested; we could weigh it, analyze it chemically, put it into safe categories. Spirituality was subjective; it did not have to prove itself by conforming to the laws of logic.
I was of the impression that the really bright people in this world had opted for science while the, shall I say intellectually challenged, found it easier to feel the truth than to understand it.

Now I understand how deceptive is this general attitude toward faith and reason. While it is true that “God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise” (read “spiritual insight” and “secular understanding” — 1 Corinthians 1:27), it does not follow that spirituality defies logic and that the two realms must forever be kept apart for a rational understanding.

As we know, there were not any punctuation marks in the original text, and yet modern convention requires some and in so doing raises some interesting questions.

Take John 3:16 for example. If a person's talking requires several paragraphs, modern conventions is to put a quotation mark at the beginning of each paragraph, but only one quotation mark is included, and that at the end of the last paragraph. In other words, all of the paragraphs except for the last one do not close with a quotation mark.

There is a subtle change from the NIV to the TNIV (simply as an illustration, not as a comment on the translations). The NIV does not include a closing quotation mark on John 3:15, and includes a starting quotation mark with John 3:16. In other words, Jesus is still talking. The TNIV, however, reverses this. It includes a closing quotation mark on John 3:15 and does not include a beginning quotation mark with John 3:16. In other words, Jesus is no longer speaking.

John 2 ends on this note: "Now when he was in Jerusalem at the Passover Feast, many believed in his name when they saw the signs that he was doing. But Jesus on his part did not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to bear witness about man, for he himself knew what was in man"(ESV).

When John 3 starts, it is common to read a "now": "Now there was a man of the Pharisees named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews." The word is translating de, a word that can mean both "and" and "but." So which is it here, and what is the significance?

The significance is whether Nicodemus is one of the "people" of chapter 2, or whether he is in contrast to them. Was he antagonistic or sympathetic toward Jesus? Specifically, how do you read v 4. "How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?" Is that a serious or mocking response?

“O you who hears prayer.”

Why is prayer so complicated? Why is it such a struggle? Why can’t I, with simplicity and trust and with consistency, just pray (and then act) like the God of the universe is also the one who simply hears my prayer?

It becomes frustrating, and I can get defeated, when I focus on the outcome, or apparent lack thereof. But shouldn’t the starting point simply be that I can know with utter confidence that when I pray, God hears?

If you stop to think about this, it is overwhelmingly amazing. The omnipotent God, who formed -- and is still forming -- galaxies by the millions, listens to us. The omni-present God, who is everywhere present in all his fullness, even present in those millions of galaxies made up of millions of stars, is present with me to listen to my praises and my requests. The omniscience God, who knows all, who knows me better than I know myself, who knows my words before I think them much less say them, still hears my words when I pray.