Pip:Sunday Morning Greek Blog, where the footnotes go six layers deep and the baptismal theology is somehow more soaking wet than you’d expect.
Mara: Scott Stocking has been doing a deep dive into Romans, and what surfaces is a case that baptism and the call to be a living sacrifice are more tightly connected than most readings let on. That’s the territory we’re covering today.
Pip: Let’s start with that connection — baptism as theology, not ceremony.
Mara: The central claim here is that Romans 6 and Romans 12:1 are not two separate ideas — they are one continuous argument, and baptism is the hinge between them.
Pip: And the evidence for that hinge is a single Greek word that shows up five times in Romans 6 and then reappears exactly when Paul says what he means by a living sacrifice.
Mara: Right — the word is paristēmi, translated “offer.” It appears throughout Romans 6 as Paul urges believers to offer themselves to God and then surfaces again in 12:1: “Offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God — this is your true and proper worship.”
Pip: So the living sacrifice of chapter 12 is not a new instruction — it is a callback to what baptism already accomplished.
Mara: Exactly. And to understand why, you have to follow Paul’s logic from the earlier part of Romans 6. The setup is verses 3 through 5: “Or don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his.”
Mara: What that means in practice is that baptism is not primarily a public declaration — it is the moment of union with Christ’s death and resurrection. The believer does not merely symbolize something; they participate in it.
Pip: Which reframes the famous last verse of Romans 6 considerably. “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” — usually read as a warning — is actually, on this reading, an affirmation for people who have already come through baptism.
Mara: That is precisely the argument. Because Christ paid the wages of sin on the cross, and because baptism unites the believer with that crucifixion, the verse functions as a confirmation of what has already happened, not a threat about what might.
Pip: The obedience Paul keeps returning to — his stated theme from Romans 1:5 all the way to 16:26 — is not a checklist. It is what life in Christ’s presence actually looks like after baptism.
Mara: And that reading is reinforced in the earlier post on the mystery of immersion, which makes a closely related case: that immersion is “the glue that ties the two pillars of the faith — Christ’s death and his subsequent resurrection — together.” That post works through the benefits linked to each pillar separately, from justification and reconciliation on the death side, to bearing fruit and victory over death on the resurrection side.
Pip: Both posts land in the same place — baptism is not peripheral, not merely a work of the flesh, not optional color commentary on the real theology happening elsewhere.
Mara: The phrase from the immersion post is worth sitting with: immersion is “a near-complete picture of who we are and what we have in Christ.”
Pip: Romans as a unified argument, baptism as the hinge, and the living sacrifice not as a new ask but as a return to the starting point.
Mara: There is more in Romans to surface. We will be back when the next posts land.
Pip:Sunday Morning Greek Blog, where the word “therefore” is never just a transition — it’s a theological event horizon.
Mara: Scott Stocking brings us two sermons this episode, both circling the same gravitational center: how Christ’s faithfulness, not just our own, is what justification actually rests on. We move from Romans 5 to the temptation in the desert and back again.
Pip: Let’s start with what Paul is actually arguing in Romans 5 and why the word “faith” might be doing double duty.
Mara: The post works through Romans 5:1–12 as part of a longer Romans study, and the central question it raises is whether “faith” in Paul’s letters refers only to our belief — or also to Christ’s own faithfulness to his mission.
Pip: And the answer, apparently, is both, which changes the weight of the whole argument considerably. The post frames it this way, reading from Romans 1:17: “For in the gospel the Righteousness of God is revealed — from faithfulness into faithfulness, just as it is written: ‘The righteous will live by faithfulness.'”
Mara: What this means in practice is that the “Righteousness of God” Paul invokes isn’t an abstract moral standard — it refers to Jesus himself. Jesus is the Righteousness of God, and his faithfulness to the cross is what makes our justification possible in the first place.
Pip: So when Paul writes “justified through faith” in 5:1 and then pivots to “justified by his blood” in 5:9, he isn’t contradicting himself — he’s showing the two sides of one coin. Christ’s faithfulness is the foundation; our trust is the response.
Mara: The post also tracks a structural shift in Romans that’s easy to miss as a casual reader. In chapters 1 through 4, Paul uses words for faith or faithfulness 27 times and words for life only twice. In chapters 5 through 8, those numbers nearly reverse — 25 occurrences of life and live, and only 2 for faith.
Pip: That’s a deliberate rhetorical gear change, not an accident.
Mara: Exactly — and it lands hardest in verse 8, which the post calls “somewhat profound”: “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” No prior cleanup required.
Pip: The historical context sharpens that. Paul is writing to a Roman congregation where Jewish believers had been expelled and were only now returning to find Gentile house churches still thriving — so the unity argument isn’t abstract theology, it’s pastoral triage.
Mara: And perseverance under that pressure is precisely what builds the character and hope Paul describes in verses 3 through 5. That thread connects directly to what Jesus himself modeled when his own faithfulness was put to the test.
Mara: The second sermon takes up Matthew 4:1–11 alongside Romans 5:12–19, and the framing question is pointed: where Adam failed under temptation, what did Jesus actually do differently, and what does that mean for everyone who comes after?
Pip: The post opens with a comparison most sermons wouldn’t lead with — that Satanism is an oxymoron — but it earns the setup, because the whole argument depends on understanding what Satan is actually after.
Mara: The key move comes in Romans 5:19, quoted directly: “For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous.”
Pip: So the upshot is that Jesus’s obedience isn’t just a moral example — it’s the structural reversal of Adam’s failure. One act of faithful obedience undoes what one act of disobedience broke.
Mara: The post draws a careful parallel: Satan used the same three categories against Jesus in the desert — appetite, spectacle, and power — that he used against Eve in the garden. Jesus refused each one by knowing exactly what God had actually promised, not the distorted version Satan offered.
Pip: And the post makes the point that what made the crucifixion uniquely effective wasn’t only perfect legal obedience to the Law — it was love. Bulls and goats couldn’t love anyone. Jesus could and did.
Mara: Which is why the post lands where it does: believers are “in Christ” in a concrete sense, baptized into his death, freed from the law’s demands, and called to walk in the righteousness he earned and extends to them.
Pip: Two sermons, one through-line — Christ’s faithfulness is prior to ours, and that sequence matters for everything that follows.
Mara: Romans keeps pulling the thread. There’s still the second half of Romans 6 ahead, so this conversation isn’t finished.
Part 1 of the Romans podcast series may be found here.
Pip: Welcome to Sunday Morning Greek Blog, where the coffee is hot and the participles are passive — and sometimes that’s the whole point.
Mara: Scott Stocking is our guide this episode, working through Romans with a close eye on the Greek text — what words like pistis and dikaiosyne actually mean, and why the translation choices matter for how we understand salvation.
Pip: Let’s start with the Romans Road and what happens when you read it in the original language.
Pip: The post on Romans 3:23–24 opens a question most readers skip right past: when Paul says we are justified by faith, whose faith is he actually talking about — ours, or Christ’s?
Mara: The post frames it this way: “For all who are being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came through Messiah Jesus sinned and are lacking the glory of God.” That rearrangement of word order is deliberate — the participle dikaioumenoi, meaning “who are being justified,” attaches directly to “all,” making justification an ongoing process, not a completed event.
Pip: So the grammar itself is doing theological work. Being justified is present tense, active right now, not a box you checked at conversion.
Mara: Exactly. And that present-tense framing connects to a comparison with Ephesians 2:8, where the parallel construction swaps “through the redemption in Christ Jesus” for “through faithfulness, and this not from yourselves.” The argument is that the faithfulness in view is Christ’s — his obedience to the cross — not a quantity of belief we have to produce on our own.
Pip: Which dissolves a question that has quietly tormented a lot of Christians: do I have enough faith to be saved? If the faithfulness is Christ’s, the answer is structurally irrelevant to us.
Mara: The post makes that point directly. If salvation rests on our faith, it becomes relative — how much is enough? But if it rests on Christ’s faithfulness, the statement becomes absolute. Our own trust in Jesus is, as the post puts it, “not so much for the purpose of being saved but the result of being saved.”
Pip: That’s a quiet but significant inversion of how the passage usually gets preached.
Mara:The companion piece on pistis across Romans 1–5 develops this at length. It argues that the phrase pisteos Iesou Christou — “the faithfulness of Jesus Christ” — in Romans 3:22 is a subjective genitive: Christ is the one being faithful, not merely the object of our faith. The post traces that reading through the whole arc of Romans 1–5, from God’s wrath under the Law in chapters 1 through 3, to Abraham’s faithfulness in chapter 4, to the application in chapter 5.
Mara: The inclusio that brackets the entire letter is telling: the phrase eis hypakoēn pisteōs — “into obedience of faithfulness” — appears in both 1:5 and 16:26, the first and last occurrences of pistis in Romans. That structural frame suggests Paul’s whole argument is about faithful obedience, not faith as a discrete interior event.
Pip: So Romans is less a manual for how to believe and more a demonstration that Christ already did the believing on our behalf — and we walk in the wake of that.
Mara: With the caveat that our own faithfulness still matters — the post is careful to say this doesn’t imply universalism or unconditional security, but rather a call to trust more deeply because God has already demonstrated his reliability. Works, confession, and obedience all follow from that trust.
Pip: From the mechanics of justification to the question of who the righteous one actually is — that thread runs all the way back to Romans 1:17, which is where the deeper argument begins.
Mara: The thread connecting both posts is really one question: what kind of faithfulness is Romans built on, and does the Greek text change the answer?
Pip: Turns out the grammar has opinions. Next time, we’ll see where else those opinions show up.
Pip:Sunday Morning Greek Blog — where the armor of God comes with footnotes, a chiastic structure, and Walter Wink citations. Scott Stocking has been thinking hard about Ephesians, and the result is not a quiet devotional.
Mara: That’s right. Today we’re digging into Ephesians — its architecture, its theology of power, and what spiritual warfare actually looks like when you take the text seriously. Let’s start with what Paul was building.
Pip: Ephesians has a reputation as Paul’s most polished letter, but the post here argues it’s also one of his most structurally deliberate — a chiastic architecture with spiritual warfare running through it as a subtheme, not a footnote.
Mara: The phrase that anchors it all is “in the heavenly realms” — used five times in Ephesians. And chapter 6 makes the stakes plain: “our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world, and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”
Pip: So the heavenly realms aren’t simply heaven. They span good and evil — which raises the obvious question of who exactly is living there.
Mara: That’s where Walter Wink comes in. His framework, drawn from his Powers trilogy and condensed in The Powers That Be, describes these entities as created by God to steward human institutions — families, corporations, governments — but subject to corruption by the people inside them.
Pip: Created good, fallen, and in need of redemption. Which is, frankly, a description that fits most institutions I’ve encountered.
Mara: The post works through concrete examples — Enron as a case of institutional corruption feeding on itself, Tylenol’s 1980s recall as a case of a corporation doing the right thing and sending a message that reverberated through the corporate world.
Pip: And then it turns personal. Westboro Baptist gets named as a case study in what spiritual warfare is not — protests that fuel the violence of the powers rather than redeeming them.
Mara: The alternative the post argues for is love as the primary instrument. Not tolerance of wrongdoing, but direct relational engagement — and prayer underneath all of it. Wink is quoted again: “Prayer is never a private inner act disconnected from day-to-day realities. It is, rather, the interior battlefield where the decisive victory is won before any engagement in the outer world is even possible.”
Pip: So action without prayer is self-justifying good works. Prayer without action is incomplete. The post holds both together — and lands on love, not protest, as the mode.
Mara: Exactly. And that framing — what we do in visible institutions reflects and shapes invisible powers — is what makes the Ephesians structure matter beyond the outline.
Pip: The architecture of the letter and the theology of the powers turn out to be the same argument.
Mara: What stays with me is that “in the heavenly realms” doing so much work — from blessing in chapter one to spiritual combat in chapter six.
Pip: Same letter, same phrase, completely different register. That’s worth sitting with until next time.
Pip:Sunday Morning Greek Blog — where the Greek is original and the theology is anything but shallow.
Mara: Scott Stocking has been working through one of the more contested questions in New Testament theology: what immersion actually does, what Peter and Paul meant by it, and whether the word itself carries more weight than most translations let on.
Pip: Let’s start with the text that says it most plainly — 1 Peter 3.
Baptism as Event, Not Ritual
Mara: The question driving these posts is deceptively simple: does immersion save, and if so, how does it work — what gives the water any power at all?
Pip: First Peter 3:21 is the sharpest answer in the New Testament, and the post on that passage offers a translation that cuts through the usual hedging: “This immersion now saves you through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, not the body-dirt removal immersion, but the clear-conscience-pledge to God immersion.”
Mara: So the power is not in the water itself. The resurrection is the qualifier — it is what carries the person through immersion the way the floodwater carried the ark. Without that phrase at the end of the verse, the whole thing collapses into ritual.
Pip: And the Greek grammar backs that reading up. The relative pronoun at the start of verse 21 is neuter, which means it points back to water, not to the ark — Peter is saying the flood water corresponds to immersion, not that the ark does.
Mara: The post on The Mystery of Immersion picks up that thread and pushes it further, asking whether ascribing salvific power to immersion while calling the Lord’s Table a mere symbol is a theological inconsistency — either both carry mysterious power, or both are symbols.
Pip: That is a genuinely uncomfortable corner to be argued into.
Mara:Mystery of Immersion, Part Two lands the argument more firmly. It reads Romans 6 as the centerpiece of Paul’s entire theological argument in chapters 1 through 11, with immersion as the event that binds Christ’s death and resurrection together in a single act.
Pip: So immersion is not a footnote to salvation — it is, in Paul’s architecture, the load-bearing joint.
Mara: The Part Two post puts it this way: immersion is “the glue that ties the two pillars of the faith together.” United with Christ’s death, the believer receives justification, reconciliation, and a cleansed conscience. United with the resurrection, they bear fruit and share the victory over death.
Mara: And across all three posts, one consistent boundary holds: a purely outward act, the “dunk and ditch” version, accomplishes nothing — the pledge of a clear conscience is what makes the event real.
Pip: From water as typology to Romans as architecture — the question underneath all of it is what it means to be all-in for Christ.
Pip: Three posts, one through-line: immersion is not where the journey ends — it is where it starts in earnest.
Mara: The Greek keeps pulling that thread. More to come.
Pip: Sunday Morning Greek Blog is back, and if you thought Paul’s letter to the Romans was just a greatest-hits playlist of salvation verses, Scott Stocking is here to walk you through the whole road — construction specs included.
Mara: Scott Stocking covers two connected territories this episode: what righteousness actually means in Romans, and how the phrase “obedience of faithfulness” functions as the letter’s spine from opening greeting to closing benediction.
Pip: Let’s start with righteousness — and what it costs to define it carefully.
Mara: The central question in this segment is what Paul means by “the righteousness of God” in Romans 1:17 — and whether it’s something God hands over to believers, or something embodied in a person.
Pip: The answer lands hard. The post sets up Romans 1:17 carefully, then offers this reading: “The righteousness of God then isn’t an object to be given. It is embodied in the person and work of Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is the righteousness of God.”
Mara: The upshot is that righteousness isn’t a transaction — it’s a participation. Because Jesus fulfilled every requirement of the law, he alone is called righteous, and believers share in that only by being “in Christ.”
Pip: Which reframes the familiar Romans Road considerably. The post uses a road-construction metaphor that actually earns its keep: righteousness is the substructure — the rebar, the compacted earth, the dowel bars — and Jesus’s faithfulness is the surface we walk on.
Mara: Romans 1:17 gets parsed as “from faithfulness into faithfulness” — Jesus’s perfect obedience to the law moving into his faithfulness unto death on the cross. The post ties that directly to Philippians 2:8: “he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death — even death on a cross.”
Pip: So “obedience of faithfulness” in Romans 1:5 isn’t just a theological motto. It points, specifically, to the crucifixion.
Mara: Romans 2 extends this. Paul warns both Jews and Gentiles against hypocrisy — knowing the law isn’t the same as following it. The post notes that circumcision and baptism function as parallel initiation rites in Paul’s argument, and reads Romans 2:25–29 as groundwork for the baptism discussion coming in chapter 6.
Pip: The small-group kickoff context matters here — this is a congregation being asked to read Romans one chapter at a time, and the post is honest that chapters 1 and 2 alone carry enough freight to slow anyone down.
Mara: That honesty is part of the argument. The post closes the Romans 1 and 2 discussion with a summary worth quoting directly: if we remain faithful to living in the righteousness of Christ, then as Romans 2:13 says, “we’ll be declared righteous when we stand before our maker.”
Pip: Which brings us to the phrase that holds all of this together — and how it functions across the whole letter.
Mara: The question the second post takes up is whether “obedience of faithfulness” is a throwaway greeting formula or the actual organizing theme of Romans — and the answer is the latter.
Pip: The post on “Obedience of Faithfulness: A Walk On the Romans Road” opens with personal testimony but arrives at a precise textual claim. Paul, it argues, “told us what he was going to say, he said it, and he told us he said it” — the phrase appears in Romans 1:5 and again, word for word, in the closing benediction of Romans 16.
Mara: That’s not a coincidence. The Greek is only two words, and the post explains that the structure implies the terms define each other: “obedience is faithfulness, and faithfulness is obedience.” Faith, in this reading, is never purely intellectual — it always carries action with it.
Pip: The post traces this through baptism in Romans 6, reading immersion as the believer’s own enactment of the pattern — buried with Christ, raised to new life. That’s the “obedience of faithfulness” made physical.
Mara: And Romans 12:1–2 closes the arc: “Offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God” and “be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” The post is careful to note these are promises for life now, not only for life after death.
Pip: Two posts, one through-line — the road Paul built was always meant to be walked.
Mara: Righteousness as foundation, faithfulness as the road you actually travel — that’s the frame Romans keeps returning to.
Pip: Next time, we’ll see where else on the blog that road leads.
Pip: Sunday Morning Greek Blog — where the laws of ancient Israel turn out to be hiding a family scandal the whole time.
Mara: Today we’re following Scott Stocking into the structural heart of Exodus 21, where a chiasm built around slavery, parents, and kidnapping turns out to be pointing directly at the patriarchs.
Pip: Let’s start with the structure itself and what it reveals.
Mara: The post opens with a seminary assignment — Exodus 21:12–27 — but when the Hebrew text revealed that verses 1–27 formed a complete paragraph, the scope expanded, and so did the discovery.
Pip: And what the expanded passage reveals is a chiasm — ideas presented in one order, then mirrored in reverse, with the most important element locked at the center.
Mara: The center, in this case, is kidnapping. And the post explains why that placement matters: “Kidnapping was the ultimate form of mistreatment of another person. That is why it was at the center of the passage.”
Pip: So the architecture of the law is doing theological work — the center of the structure is the center of the argument, not just a formatting choice.
Mara: Right, and the Hebrew confirms it. The word translated “kidnap” is the phrase meaning “the one stealing a man,” using the same root — ganav — as “steal” in the Ten Commandments. Same word, much higher stakes.
Pip: Stealing a man means removing him from his covenant community and erasing the life he had planned. That is not a footnote crime.
Mara: Which is why it sits flanked by laws about striking or cursing parents, and by the Hebrew slave provisions that open and close the passage — all of them potentially capital offenses, all gathered under the shadow of the lex talionis.
Pip: And then the historical context lands, and the whole structure suddenly reads like an indictment.
Mara: Exactly. Joseph’s brothers kidnapped him, sold him into slavery, and lied to their father — which the post calls equivalent to a curse. The first law code after the Ten Commandments is a direct mirror of what Israel did to its own.
Pip: The message being: you are the case study. The law you just received describes crimes you already committed.
Mara: The post frames it plainly — even though God intended it for good, that cannot become an excuse. Structure and context together make the passage a warning, not just a statute.
Pip: Moses built a legal code that doubles as a confession. That is a long way from a seminary homework assignment.
Mara: The deeper point is that how a text is arranged is part of what it means — structure carries argument.
Pip: Which means reading carefully is not optional. It’s the whole job.
I have a two-week break from preaching, so I’m trying to clean up some files that are starting to overcrowd my now limited hard-drive space. I came across a “Writings” folder I haven’t used in forever that has old homework assignments, church newsletter articles I had written, and copies of old blog posts from HarvestNet, where I had an ongoing debate with a guy named “SpeaksinTongues” about that particular spiritual gift. The following is an article I had evidently written for the church newsletter, although I never remember that church publishing a regular newsletter. It’s still as relevant today as it was in 2007, so I offer it here.
As I was editing a book recently, I serendipitously encountered a profound proverb in Merriam-Webster’s 11th Collegiate Dictionary:au pays des aveugles les borgnes sont rois. I could barely pronounce this French saying, but fortunately the meaning was not lost in the English translation that accompanied it: “in the country of the blind the one-eyed men are kings.”
Immediately I recalled Frank Peretti’s second book on spiritual warfare, Piercing the Darkness. Early in that story, a television news crew is covering a story about a controversy at a Christian school; Peretti’s narrative is astounding: “The cameraman set the camera on his shoulder and started watching the news with one eye.”
I could jump up on my soapbox and complain about how most network news is biased against Christian principles and morality, but most of us already know that. Less than seven percent of television, motion picture, and news media elite attend church on a weekly basis according to a 1990’s survey by The Center for the Study of Social and Political Change at Smith College, so it is easy to see why they have a bias. The one-eyed media monster has set itself up as the judge of right and wrong in our society. Many times their judgments are contrary to Scripture, because most do not know what the Scriptures really say.
But I am more concerned about the first part of the French proverb cited above. Have Christians, myself included, turned a blind eye and deaf ear to the cultural decay around us? Do the problems that plague our society overwhelm us to the point that we do not think we can make a difference? I for one have grown tired of hearing of the almost daily assault on Christian values and principles. Tyrannical judges (and the media who praise them) say, for example, that constitutional amendments affirming the Christian view of marriage, approved by the majority of voters in a state (e.g., Nebraska, 2005), are unconstitutional. How can this be?
I hope that Christians will, like Ezekiel’s watchman, keep both eyes open to counter the influence of the media Cyclopes [plural of Cyclops], in order to reclaim and proclaim God’s truth to a world that is seeking a moral compass.
Pip: Welcome to Sunday Morning Greek Blog, where the word “likewise” turns out to carry thirty years of argument inside it.
Mara: Scott Stocking is back with a paper he first presented at a Stone-Campbell conference in 1996 — now published here — making a textual case from 1 Timothy 3 that Paul had women in official leadership roles in mind.
Pip: Let’s start with what the Greek actually says about who qualifies for what.
Women Elders and the Greek of 1 Timothy 3
Mara: The post frames its stakes right at the top: the question isn’t whether culture permits women elders, but whether the text does. The argument is that a cultural defense, once allowed as primary, opens what the post calls “any number of Pandora’s boxes for cultural justification of lifestyles and doctrines otherwise proscribed in the Scriptures.”
Pip: So the move is to beat the traditionalists on their own ground — scripture, grammar, structure — rather than appeal to the zeitgeist.
Mara: Exactly. And the structural case comes first. First Timothy 3 lists qualifications for the overseer in verses 1 through 7, then deacons in verses 8 through 10, then women in verse 11. The post lays this out as a parallel pattern, each group introduced with the same grammatical machinery.
Pip: Verse 11 sitting between two deacon passages has let a lot of readers conclude those women must be deacons’ wives — but apparently the Greek doesn’t cooperate.
Mara: It doesn’t. The NIV supplies the word “their” to read “their wives,” but as the post notes, “the personal possessive pronoun ‘their’ (autōn) is not found in the Greek text.” That pronoun was added by translators, not Paul.
Pip: A gloss doing a lot of heavy lifting for a very contested doctrine.
Mara: The post calls it an “obvious gloss” and moves on to what it considers the real crux: the adverb hōsautōs, translated “likewise” or “in the same way.” It appears in verse 8 introducing deacons and again in verse 11 introducing the women. The word study here is the heart of the paper.
Mara: Louw and Nida describe hōsautōs as “a marker of similarity which approximates identity” — and the post takes “identity” to mean identification with a specific group or class of leaders, not just a behavioral resemblance.
Pip: So “likewise” isn’t just saying these women should be dignified — it’s placing them in the same category as the offices already named.
Mara: That’s the argument. Because hōsautōs in verse 11 pulls the reader back grammatically to the same infinitive construction governing the overseer list in verse 2, the women of verse 11 are, in the post’s words, “a distinct class of leaders in the early church.” The post also engages Jennifer Stiefel’s 1995 article, which reaches a similar structural conclusion but stops at “women deacons” — the post argues her analysis is too narrow because she excludes verses 1 through 7 from her structural frame, which is precisely where the overseer qualifications live.
Pip: Leave out the overseer passage and you can’t see that hōsautōs is doing double duty — linking the women to both offices, not just one.
Mara: The conclusion is that Paul “intentionally uses this construction to place these ‘women’ on an equal status with deacons and overseers or elders.” The post also connects the women of 3:11 to the widow passages in chapter 5, noting parallel qualifications — hospitality, raising children, commanding respect, refraining from idle talk — which suggests these women leaders may have been widows, though the post holds that loosely.
Pip: And the companion piece, “Qualifications of Male and Female Leaders in the Church,” extends this reading into a broader look at the leadership passages — this 1996 paper is the academic foundation that piece builds on.
Mara: Right. The practical upshot the post names is direct: “give women their due respect in congregational life and leadership” and “do not be afraid to appoint them to church offices if they have earned that respect.” The post notes this paper was actually used by a real eldership to support adding female elders — so the thirty-year-old argument found a live application.
Pip: Which brings us to the cultural backdrop that shaped the Ephesian congregation Paul was writing to in the first place.
Mara: The thread running through all of this is that close reading of the Greek — structure, adverbs, what pronouns are and aren’t present — can reopen questions that translation choices quietly closed.
Pip: Next time: whatever Paul wrote next, we’ll be here parsing it one word at a time.
I preached this message July 26, 2026, at Mount View Presbyterian Church, Omaha, Nebraska. It follows up on my previous message two weeks’ prior on the first third of Romans 8 (Life in the Spirit (Romans 8:1–11) | Sunday Morning Greek Blog). I also video recorded the message for my Rumble and Instagram accounts. I will post those links when they are available.
Good morning! The Lord be with you!
A couple weeks ago we looked at the first part of Romans 8 and talked about the life that we have in the Holy Spirit. Today, we’re going to close out this second major section of Romans, chapters 5 through 8, by walking through Paul’s “deeper dive” into the role of the Holy Spirit in our lives in the last third of Romans 8.
I’m scratching my head a bit at why the editors of the Lectionary chose to break the text between last week’s Romans 8 passage and this week’s. The most obvious clue we have that this break may not have come at a natural stopping point is the fact that our passage begins with “Likewise” in the version we read, or “In the same way” in the NIV.
Seeing this word or phrase in the biblical text should give us cause to pause for a moment and ask, as we do with “therefore,” what is it there for? Likewise compared to what? In the same way as…? Well, the obvious place to look is the paragraph just before our text, beginning in verse 22, because there are some obvious verbal parallels we can’t ignore.
22 We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. 23 Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? 25 But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.[1]
Did you hear the connection to today’s passage in the first couple verses? It’s the idea that not only is the earth itself groaning right along with us. I want to come back to that in a minute, but it’s important to drill down a bit into the implications of the Greek word translated “likewise” (ὡσαύτως hōsautōs).
In our English translations, we probably don’t even give much of a second thought to such a word. For some of us, it probably carries about the same weight as the word “whatever.” But this word appears to have a specialized use in the New Testament, one that implies a deeper or more profound connection to the situations or persons being compared. That’s important because as the body of Christ, we live in fellowship not only with Christ but with one another as well. This simple little word is shorthand for letting Paul’s readers (at least in the original language) know that something special is going on here.
The word is typically found in lists or narratives of repeated action. For example, it’s used in the parable Jesus tells about Levirate marriage, where the next youngest brother is responsible for marrying his older brother’s widow to continue the family line. It’s used a couple times in 1 Timothy 2 and 3—once to say that men and women should worship God similarly but with instructions specific to each gender. Then in chapter 3 he uses it in reference to the three leadership groups mentioned: elders have their qualifications; just like the elders, deacons have their own qualifications specific to their ministry; and just like the deacons and elders, “the women” in leadership have their own qualifications specific to their ministry.
Recognizing that this connection exists between the entities compared helps give us a deeper appreciation of what it means when Paul says, “Likewise…the Spirit intercedes for us through wordless groans.” Creation itself has been groaning for redemption ever since Adam and Eve at the forbidden fruit. From Genesis 3, you may remember God told Adam:
When Paul first mentions groaning in vs. 22, he uses a special form of the word translated “groan” that adds a prefix meaning “together with.” We see that prefix in modern English in words like sympathy and symphony. It supplements the implications of the word “likewise.” It wasn’t just the ground itself, but the greenhouse-like paradise God had created for his creation to dwell in was disrupted very shortly after that by a flood that literally reshaped the world and created the weather patterns we see today: tornado season, monsoon season, hurricane season, the four seasons, earthquakes, etc. I believe those are all manifestations of the curse God spoke upon the land in Genesis 3. Those things will not exist when God establishes the new heaven and new earth.
Paul says in verse 23 that you and I are groaning right along with creation as we await our own redemption. We’re all keenly aware of that kind of “groaning.” When we’ve been hurt deeply by someone who loved us, or even when we, intentionally or not, hurt or severely disappoint those closest to us. We feel when we get fired or “downsized” from a good job that has been a source of security for us. We feel it when a child is ill and all we can do is hold them closely to help them get through the sickness. We especially feel it with the loss of a loved one, of course. We mourn with those who mourn, and somehow that brings some small comfort or a sense of security even when we don’t have the words to express our sorrow.
We see this groaning in our world in other ways as well. Poverty, political aggression, and religious oppression, to name a few are evils that haunt us. War, mental illness, and substance use disorders often arise from undesirable or unhealthy ways to address those evils and compel us to lift our cries for redemption, even when we cannot find our words to express it.
So, when we come to our passage today and see that, “in the same way” we groan for the things troubling our hearts, the Holy “Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.” This isn’t some supernatural spiritual language, then. If you’re in Christ, the Spirit knows your heart and mind intimately, so he feels the pain and the sorrow that causes us to groan. The mystery of the Trinity is that the Spirit is the presence of Jesus in your life, and therefore the presence of Jesus’s deep love for you. Additionally, God the Father knows precisely what the Spirit is conveying to him on your behalf, so God knows your pain as well and begins to work through his Spirit and his Word (Jesus) to comfort us and provide for our spiritual and emotional needs in our time of distress (vs. 27).
When we understand the groaning of the Holy Spirit and what it is accomplishing for us, we can begin “to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, 19 and to know this love that surpasses knowledge”[3] as Paul says in Ephesians 3. If his love surpasses knowledge, then it kind of sounds like there are no words to describe it. That’s pretty deep, extremely profound. It’s heavy, but in a good way, because, as Paul continues in Ephesians 3, we’re “filled to the measure of all the fulness of God.” This is how great his love is for us, and this is the taste of the eternal life that awaits us as believers.
What we’ve just covered here is Paul’s response to what he calls “our present sufferings” in Romans 8:18 and begins the process of revealing God’s glory in our lives. That is the context for vs. 28, then, “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.”[4] Now if you’re following along in a printed Bible with this passage, you may notice a footnote here that suggests a couple alternate translations, but the version we read from (New Revised Standard Version) has the most straightforward translation. The issue has to do with grammar, and you didn’t come here this morning for a grammar lesson. But if you want an explanation, ask me after the service.[5]
The “all things” refers to what Paul was talking about in chapter 8 that we already mentioned: the present sufferings, the groaning for redemption, and so on. Whatever has happened to us and whatever is currently happening to us is all part of God’s design for our lives if we love him and walk with him. The phrase “Those whom he foreknew” most likely does not refer to individuals but rather to a group. In Romans 11, the same word refers to the Jews. In 1 Peter 1:20, it refers to Jesus being chosen before the creation of the world to be savior, so by extension, the implication in Romans 8 here is that it refers to Jews specifically and everyone else who would follow Christ in history. He describes those Christ-followers as called, justified, and glorified.
This brings us to the grand conclusion of chapter 8 specifically, and chapters 5 through 8 as significant subset of Paul’s larger treatise. Paul hearkens back to the opening verse of chapter (“There is no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus”) by asking in verse 34, “Who then is the one who condemns? No one.”[6] We have assurance that with God on our side, no one and nothing can stand against us. Nothing can bring us down. Nothing can or should raise questions about our standing or relationship with God.
All of that is possible because of Jesus’s sacrifice and what that accomplished as Paul explains especially in chapter 6. If we are in Christ, God has justified us. If we are in Christ, God has guaranteed us eternal life through the resurrection of Jesus. Baptism is the outward expression of that security. And along with the Holy Spirit, who dwells in us, Jesus is at the right hand of God interceding for us as well. We can’t lose!
Paul puts it this way in 2 Corinthians 4:16–18:
16 Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 17 For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 18 So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.[7]
None of the troubles that Paul mentioned earlier in chapter 8 can separate us from God’s love. The worries of chapter 7 and “doing what I don’t want to do” are banished when we realize that we are no longer slaves of sin but “slaves” of Christ. Our participation in the death and resurrection of Christ in baptism assures us of the eternal life we have in Christ.
This is why Paul says in 8:37 that we are more than conquerors! Amen? We have assurance and confidence that we are fully secure in the body of Christ and in God’s kingdom for eternity when we walk with and in him. We have victory in Jesus! Let us go forth today and share the good news of that victory with those who need to know the assurance of his hope. Amen!
[5] The underlying text is vague, but the theological significance among the options is minimal in my opinion. The issue is with the word πάντα panta (“all things”), which, as a neuter form, can either be the subject of the sentence (nominative case) or the direct object of the sentence (accusative case). The NRSV (here), KJV, and ESV have the most straightforward translation: “All things work together….” The NIV confuses the issue by putting panta in the dative case (“in all things”). The more recent Common English Bible (CEB) has “God works all things together…,” which requires the translator to infer God is the subject of the verb. However, “God” as a nominative case noun does not occur in the eclectic text.
Metzger’s Textual Commentary (p. 458) on the variant reading where it does occur in some copies of the text is helpful, but not necessarily conclusive ([B] rating):
“Although the reading συνεργεῖ ὁ θεός (𝔓46 A B 81 copsa (eth) Origengr2/5) is both ancient and noteworthy, a majority of the Committee deemed it too narrowly supported to be admitted into the text, particularly in view of the diversified support for the shorter reading (א C D G K P Ψ 33 614 1739 ByzLect itd,, vg syrp, copbo arm Clement Origengr3/5, Eusebius Lucifer Cyril-Jerusalem Chrysostom Augustine al). Since συνεργεῖ may be taken to imply a personal subject, ὁ θεός seems to have been a natural explanatory addition made by an Alexandrian editor.”
[6] Romans 8:34. The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan. Contextually, since the chapter begins with, “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus,” the answers to the questions in this section (vv. 33–35) about who is bringing charges, who is condemning, and who is separating us from Christ’s love are all “No one” by implication. The “No one” in vs. 34 (NIV) and the “No” at the beginning of vs. 37 (NIV) are glosses to indicate this, that is, they are not translated from Greek words in the text, and consequently some translations do not include those glosses.
