This is a lightly edited transcript of what I actually said when I taught this session at Spring Creek Bible Church on April 30, 2017, as Part 1 of the Introduction to New Testament Exegesis class. It differs from what I planned to say; for the prepared text, see the manuscript.
This is an introduction to New Testament exegesis—a class meant to help us understand better how to study the Bible. Over the first two weeks we’ll lay the foundation: why we study the Bible and how we go about it. Then, in the following weeks, we’ll walk through a study method together, taking a focus text each week and doing the actual work—comparing translations, doing word studies, and moving through the steps that help us understand more deeply what God is communicating through His Word. We could have called this “How to Study and Apply the New Testament,” but I chose the more technical term on purpose, so we’d get comfortable with it. Huge volumes have been written on exegesis; my aim here is to give a condensed, practical version—a true introduction—and then to jump in and actually do it together.
My objectives are simple. I hope each of us—myself included—grows in our desire to study God’s Word, gains increased skill and knowledge in how to study it, and comes away with a greater understanding of and love for the particular texts we look at. And I want us to keep one foot in application throughout: not just filling our heads with knowledge, but asking what these truths look like practically in our lives.
What Is Exegesis?
The word looks intimidating, and some people, hearing it, assume it’s spelled with a “Jesus” in it and has something to do with Him. It doesn’t. It comes straight from a Greek word (transliterated exegesis) that refers to explanation. The word doesn’t occur in the New Testament, but it appears once in the Old—in Judges 7:15, where Gideon hears the telling, or explanation, of a dream. The word is built from two parts: a prefix meaning “out of” and a root meaning “to lead,” giving the idea of drawing something out. (A caution we’ll return to: it’s not always safe to glue two parts of a word together and assume that’s its meaning—words change over time—but here it’s a loose fit.) So exegesis is the effort to draw out of a text its intended meaning.
It’s important to contrast exegesis with a similar word, eisegesis—same root, but a prefix meaning “into” rather than “out of.” Eisegesis is the reverse error: you come to a text with your own ideas, see something that reminds you of them, and read your meaning into the text—making it seem to say what you already thought. That’s not drawing out the meaning God intended; that’s bringing your own meaning in, and it’s not a good thing. Another related term is hermeneutics, also from the Greek, meaning interpretation or exposition. In Bible study it has a distinct sense: hermeneutics is the set of principles or rules we use to interpret the text. As one writer put it, hermeneutics stands in the same relationship to exegesis that a rule book stands to a game—“the rules are not the same as the game, and the game is meaningless without the rules.” Hermeneutics proper is not exegesis; exegesis is applied hermeneutics.
So how shall we define exegesis? We can say it is the task of prayerfully and carefully reading, analyzing, and synthesizing the Bible to understand what it said, what it meant, and what it means today. John MacArthur similarly calls it the skillful application of sound hermeneutical principles to the biblical text, in the original language, with a view to understanding and declaring the author’s intended meaning. But we needn’t overthink it. Exegesis is simply careful reading to discern the meaning. In that sense we’re all exegetes—maybe good ones, okay ones, or bad ones—and we all bear the responsibility to become better at reading and understanding the Word God has given us.
Meaning: Author, Intent, and Context
When we talk about the meaning of a Bible passage, we mean what an author intended to communicate, as illuminated by its context. Three words there deserve attention. First, author: meaning implies an intelligent author behind the communication—and the Bible is unique in having, for each book, both a human author and a divine author, which introduces real challenges and opportunities in the exegetical process. Second, intent: to understand the meaning of something you must grasp what the author meant or intended to communicate. This is exactly the exegesis/eisegesis distinction—if a text merely makes you feel warm and fuzzy and you never ask who wrote this, why, and what they were trying to say, you aren’t doing exegesis, and you’re probably not understanding it accurately.
On divine and human intent: the Bible has a divine author, but not only a divine author—it also has human authors. That is what we call inspiration. Apart from a few cases like the Ten Commandments, which God wrote directly, He worked through men—“moved” by the Holy Spirit (2 Peter 1:21), so that the Word is “breathed out” by God (2 Timothy 3:16). So we’re seeking not just the human author’s intent, but the divine author’s. Sometimes these seem to run together perfectly; other passages hint that a human author wasn’t fully aware of everything God intended—something later unpacked by New Testament writers (see 1 Peter 1:10–12, and places in Daniel where the prophet admits he doesn’t understand). The technical term for a deeper, God-intended meaning that becomes clear only after Christ is sensus plenior, “fuller sense.” I hold it tentatively, but it’s worth being aware of: when you ask of an Old Testament text who the human author was and what he meant, there are some things you won’t see—until you turn to the New Testament and watch Jesus and the apostles perceive a deeper meaning that was always there in God’s intent.
One more point on intent—intent and error. It may sound heretical to say not everything in the Bible is “true,” but consider: the Bible records statements from Satan and from others communicating false things. That doesn’t compromise its truthfulness—the Bible infallibly records falsehood as falsehood. This matters because people cherry-pick a verse they like without asking whether the Bible intends to affirm it as truth—or whether they’ve just quoted a line from the lips of Satan. Job is a good example: his friends said much that sounds like sound theology, yet God rebukes them for how they spoke. So just because a statement appears in the Bible—which is always true—doesn’t mean every statement, torn from its context, is itself a truth-claim. Which brings us to context.
Context
The meaning of words, phrases, and grammatical expressions is not static—we know this instinctively. Many English words shift meaning depending on the sentence they’re in, and the same is true in the Bible: words have ranges of meaning that change over time, and the best way to know what a word means is to look at what the author intended by it in its context. We need to be careful not to rush to a dictionary or lexicon, scan the four ways a word can be translated, pick the one with the coolest spiritual application, and declare that the meaning of the text. A word may be able to mean that somewhere—but that doesn’t mean it meant that here. Let the meaning come out of the text, not be brought into it, even from a reputable source.
There are two kinds of context. The first is the historical-cultural (temporal) context—the time in which a text was written, the people who wrote it and received it, the historical setting, and the cultural realities of the moment. For the New Testament, that means positioning the text in the first-century world and bringing that world to bear on what it means. The second is the literary (textual) context—the words that surround the passage you’re studying. The context of John 3:16 is the verses before and after it, and beyond that, how it fits into larger units. The New Testament writers didn’t compose a string of Bible verses; versification came centuries later. They wrote whole books and letters, meant to be read start to finish when the church gathered. Chopping them into bite-sized pieces is helpful for finding things, but it tempts us to treat verses as isolated, independent units—which can be dangerous and cause us to miss the intended meaning.
It helps to picture the levels of literary context as a series of widening circles: words form phrases; phrases fit into clauses; clauses make sentences; sentences make paragraphs; paragraphs group into a pericope; pericopes fit into a book’s structure of introduction, body, and conclusion; books belong to an author’s whole corpus (all of John’s writings, say); and beyond that lies the testament, and the whole Bible. As we seek a text’s meaning, it’s useful to know how it sits within each of these circles.
Why Study the Bible?
First, because God commands it. Second Timothy 2:15—“be diligent [study] to present yourself to God as one approved…rightly handling the word of truth”—points us straight there. Deuteronomy 6 commands us to teach God’s Word, which implicitly requires that we first know it. Proverbs is full of admonitions to get wisdom, understanding, and insight—to seek them like hidden treasure, though it cost us all we have. Most weighty of all is the first and greatest commandment: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind” (Matthew 22:37). Loving God with our minds means nothing less than applying them to read carefully and understand the Word He has given. Ezra “set his heart to study the law of the Lord, and to do it, and to teach” (Ezra 7:10)—study, then practice, then teach, in that order. The Bereans “examined the Scriptures daily” (Acts 17:11) and were commended for it. And Jesus repeatedly rebuked the religious leaders—“You are wrong, because you know neither the Scriptures nor the power of God” (Matthew 22:29); “Have you never read…?”—expecting far greater familiarity with God’s Word than they had. The New Testament itself contains more than 2,500 references to the Old—and its authors had no Bible software; that depth of familiarity flowed from lives steeped in Scripture, setting an example for us.
Second, studying God’s Word is how we know God. He reveals Himself broadly through creation (general revelation), but it is through Scripture (special revelation) that we know who He is—triune Father, Son, and Spirit; the God who gave His Son to redeem us and sent His Spirit to indwell us. Salvation does not happen apart from revelation: “faith comes by hearing…the word of God.” And through knowing God we come to love, enjoy, and glorify Him. Since we exist to glorify God, studying His Word takes us to the very heart of why we exist. As John Piper writes, “the main reason God has given us minds is that we might seek out and find all the reasons that exist for treasuring him”—the more we see of His greatness, the more we treasure Him, and the more we treasure Him, the more He is consciously and joyfully glorified. Third, and closely related, Scripture is how we know what God requires of us and what pleases Him. Our duty is to obey and please the Lord—and we cannot do that if we do not know His Word.
Some Dangers to Guard Against
Serious study comes with dangers we should name. Solomon notes that “much study wearies the body,” and it’s true that our fallen natures tire and want the easy path—a short devotional thought and a warm feeling is far easier than digging in to understand what God intended through a human author. But there are far worse dangers than weariness. One is that Bible study becomes a merely academic exercise. Every year thousands of scholars gather at the Society of Biblical Literature to trade books and papers; many are godly, but many know nothing of loving God—they simply found an important piece of literature interesting and gave their lives to it. What a tragedy to devote a life to understanding God’s Word while blind and hardened to the grace revealed there. Deep study can draw a heart away from God; I’ve watched it happen to men who once pastored and now no longer believe.
A second, related danger is external or false religion. “You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is these that testify about me” (John 5:39–40). The religious leaders of Jesus’ day studied diligently and missed Him completely. Many cults today know their Bibles better, on average, than many evangelicals—but they are reading meaning into the text rather than drawing it out. A third danger is turning truth into a source of pride, at the expense of love, unity, humility, and obedience. We’ve all met the person—perhaps been the person—who takes real understanding of doctrine and turns it into something to argue and boast about, lacking the charity and grace a Christian should show. Concern for truth can curdle into a mean and divisive spirit; our fallen hearts will pervert even the study of Scripture.
B. B. Warfield answered this danger well. To the saying that “ten minutes on your knees will give you a truer knowledge of God than ten hours over your books,” he replied: why not ten hours over your books, on your knees? “Why should you turn from God when you turn to your books, or feel that you must turn from your books in order to turn to God?” Don’t let academic study and the spiritual life be divided. Study your books—do it on your knees, thanking God for help, with eyes and heart ready to hear from Him.
Who Should Study, and How
Who should study the Bible? Everyone—no one is off the hook. God has wired us differently, with different gifts and roles within the diverse body of Christ, and not all of us are called to be scholars. We’re grateful for the teachers God gives the church, who write the commentaries and articles that save us time and help us grapple with hard things. But their existence doesn’t excuse the rest of us from applying ourselves to understand God’s written Word.
As for how—the manner in which we approach study—let me name several dispositions. We should come with great respect, remembering these are the very words of the God of the universe, before which we should tremble. With great humility, since we are sinners who deserve His wrath, humbled that God has condescended in grace to reveal Himself at all. With great dependence, because we are powerless to understand and respond rightly on our own—we need to come on our knees and beg God to open our eyes, ears, and hearts. With great gratitude that He has preserved His Word: we hold nearly 6,000 handwritten Greek manuscripts and hundreds of English translations, riches many languages still lack. With great care, for the Bible is not to be tampered with, distorted, or bent to win a debate—Scripture warns repeatedly against handling God’s words carelessly. With great effort, since nothing deserves greater diligence than knowing God through His Word. And with great consistency, because this is a lifelong pursuit—you can study fifty, sixty, seventy years and never reach the point where you can kick back and relax.
The Goals of Studying the Bible
It all sums up in one aim: to glorify God. But several things roll up into that. We study to know God—not merely to gather facts or interesting details, but because Scripture is His self-revelation, and we should always be looking for God in its pages. We study to grow our faith: as we see God revealing what He has done and how faithfully He keeps His word, our confidence in Him and His reliability grows stronger. We study to love God, since by His grace and the Spirit’s awakening in our hearts, knowing Him leads to loving Him. We study for obedience—“if you love me, you will keep my commandments”—so that we become not merely hearers of the Word but doers. We study to love others, for Scripture is full of commands and examples of how to do so. And we study in order to teach: we’re called to teach our families (Deuteronomy 6), to teach and admonish one another as the body of Christ, and to make disciples of all nations—and we cannot effectively teach what we do not know.
Presuppositions for Exegesis
We can’t and shouldn’t approach Scripture in a vacuum. We all come with presuppositions and biases—that’s not a bad thing but part of the process—yet we must acknowledge what they are and hold them with open hands. First, theology proper (the doctrine of God): we come assuming God exists and has revealed Himself in Scripture, and that shapes how we interpret. Second, bibliology (the doctrine of the Bible): we believe Scripture is God’s self-revelation—divinely inspired, breathed out, infallible, inerrant, authoritative, sufficient, clear, preserved, and relevant, with dual authorship. (If you’ve never deeply studied inspiration, authority, and sufficiency, that study would richly reward you here.)
Third, anthropology (the doctrine of man): we are the creature and God the Creator—finite before the infinite, with limited knowledge, working through the inherent imprecision of language and translation. And before we even reach the doctrine of sin, we must reckon that we are fallen: the fall has bent every part of us, clouding our minds, inclining our hearts to suppress the truth, and leaving our emotions unresponsive to the joy or sorrow a text calls for. We come to the Bible carrying sin as baggage, tempted to distort God’s Word to win a point. Fourth, Christology: we assume the Bible is about Jesus—its one storyline climaxes in Christ and His work; He is the Word, God made visible; the Old Testament shows the need for Him and foreshadows Him, and the New reveals Him. This doesn’t mean finding Jesus in every verse, but seeing how every verse fits the Bible’s overarching, Christ-centered story. Fifth, pneumatology: we need God’s indwelling Spirit to illuminate the Scripture and open our eyes—reading the Bible rightly is a supernatural activity. And we believe God has given teachers to the church, whose help we should gratefully use.
One objection: if we come with all our theology already figured out, aren’t we just reading it into the Bible—isn’t that eisegesis? No. We’re not forcing our theology onto the text; we come with acknowledged presuppositions held with open hands, and when the Bible points out that one of them is off, we correct it in light of God’s Word. It’s a circular, self-correcting process: we come with a theological foundation, we study, and where a presupposition proves to be at odds with Scripture, we reshape it and keep studying.
Johann Bengel famously summed up the aim: “Apply yourself fully to the text, and apply the text fully to yourself.” That captures what I hope we’ll do together—give ourselves diligently to studying God’s Word, and then let that Word apply itself to us, so that we change and grow into what God wants us to become. Studying God’s Word is an amazing privilege and responsibility, and it is His will for every one of us. Let’s prayerfully and diligently give ourselves to this great task.