Category: Scripture Reflections

Meditations on specific passages, listening for the whisper of God’s voice in the text.

The Language of Life

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Abstract digital artwork of glowing sound waves transforming into rivers, trees, and stars against a dark cosmic background, symbolising words and speech as creation and life.

“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up.”
Ephesians 4:29

Words are never just noise. They are breath given shape, soul exhaled. They move unseen but not unfelt, carrying weight like wind that bends trees or like fire that sets forests alight.

Too often we read Paul’s words here as if he were writing about manners. No swearing, no coarse language. Keep your speech tidy. But he is not warning about vocabulary. He is speaking about reality. Words carry power. They make or unmake. They can rot, corrode, and decay, or they can strengthen, shelter, and bring life.

The word Paul uses for “unwholesome” is sapros, the same word for rotten fruit. It is not simply impolite but decayed. Rotten speech infects, spreads mould, carries death within it. Words spoken in bitterness can poison a room. Sarcasm can chip away at the soul. Gossip can hollow out trust. This is what Paul warns against, not etiquette, but the slow rot of death.

In contrast, he says, let your words be for building. The tongue is a mortar or a hammer. With it, you can carve space for another to stand taller. With it, you can lay the foundations of belonging. With it, you can raise walls of shelter or tear them down. Each sentence is a brick laid either toward ruin or toward home.

We do ourselves a disservice when we shrink Paul’s words to mean “do not swear.” As if he were giving us a vocabulary list. The call is far more cosmic. Words are not about politeness. They are about creation.

Think of C. S. Lewis describing Aslan singing Narnia into being. The song itself carried trees into leaf, stars into burning, rivers into flowing. Or Tolkien’s Ilúvatar, who composed the great Music, and the world unfolded in its harmonies. These stories point us back to the truest one. The God of Genesis spoke light into being, called out the waters, named day and night, and breathed life into dust. Creation itself is worded into existence.

Poets know this better than most. They understand that words can open doors into the indescribable. A line of poetry can carry what paragraphs of prose cannot. A blessing spoken over the fire in a Celtic home was not ornament; it was survival and worship. To call down God’s presence over the most ordinary act was to stitch heaven and earth together with words.

When we speak blessings, we are not simply being kind. We are imaging the God in whose likeness we were made. Humanity was created to reflect him, to echo his ways into the world. He is the One who speaks light and light appears, who calls forth seas and stars, who breathes life into dust. His speech does not merely describe, it creates.

This is why rotten talk matters. Not because it is impolite, but because it denies who we are meant to be. And this is why blessing matters. Each time we speak hope, forgiveness, truth, or love, we mirror the God who spoke and it was so. Our tongues were made to echo his creative Word, to join him in bringing light out of darkness and life out of dust.

This echoes through Scripture. In Genesis, God speaks the world into being: “And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light” (Genesis 1:3). Proverbs tells us, “The tongue has the power of life and death” (Proverbs 18:21). James warns that “the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts… Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark” (James 3:5). He goes on to call it “a restless evil, full of deadly poison” (James 3:8). John’s gospel goes further still, saying, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God… and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:1, 14). God does not just speak life into the world, he becomes the Word, dwelling within the world he called into being. If our speech is careless, it corrodes. If it is filled with grace, it participates in that same divine rhythm of creation and incarnation.

The mystics and saints knew this well. The Desert Fathers would spend days in silence, not because words were evil, but because words were heavy. They believed speech carried eternity in its syllables. St John of the Cross spoke of the need to keep words few, so that when they are spoken they carry the fragrance of heaven. The Celtic tradition spoke of blessing everything, lighting the fire, milking the cow, and closing the door at night. Words turned into prayers, words spoken as life poured over the ordinary. To speak was to join God in consecrating the world.

Think about the words that have most shaped your life. A teacher telling you that you had a gift. A friend who whispered, I am here. A parent who said, I love you. Perhaps, too, you carry words that wound, words that still echo years later. Both linger. Both shape the way you stand, the way you see yourself, the way you step into tomorrow.

This is why Paul urges us not to let rot fall from our mouths. To speak decay is to diminish the image of God in another. But to speak blessing is to water it, to call it forth, to give it space to bloom. When I say, you belong here, I am not merely transferring information. I am planting a seed of belonging. When I say, I forgive you, I am not just announcing a fact, I am opening a door to a new future. Words are sacramental. They are material things that carry invisible grace.

It matters in the ordinary. In how we speak to our children at the end of a long day. In how we address our partners in weariness or joy. In how we speak of others when they are not in the room. In how we comment online, in how we talk about people we disagree with, in how we handle the small irritations of life. Each moment carries a choice. Will I speak rot or life? Will my words corrode or build?

Think again of the power of a single phrase.
I forgive you.
You belong here.
You are not alone.
Peace be with you.

Each is more than air. Each is a doorway opening. Each is a world remade.

So may our mouths be more than noise. May our words become breath that lifts. May we learn the holy art of speaking life, until our speech itself becomes a kind of prayer.

The Ache of Beginnings: Reading Genesis 1–11 with Open Hands

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Two abstract silhouettes, male and female, stand together at twilight between a flourishing garden glowing with golden light and a barren wilderness of dry soil and thorns. The scene symbolises humanity east of Eden, caught between exile and communion with God.

Reading Genesis

Genesis does not begin with a courtroom but with a garden. It does not give us a manual of origins but a story of longing, freedom, and fracture. These early chapters are less about when and more about why. They are not fossils of a world long gone but mirrors of our own. They speak of desire that bends, of Exile that begins, of God who keeps walking into the story anyway.

“In the beginning, God…” (Genesis 1:1). Before the ache, before the questions, there was only God. All that exists flows out of this life. Gregory of Nyssa said that only God truly has being in Himself, while all else exists only by participation. Creation is not necessary, but a gift. The beginning is not a moment in time but the eternal One whose presence holds everything in existence.

The Fall, Sin, and Wisdom

The tree was not poisonous. It was a possibility. Wisdom was always meant to be humanity’s inheritance, but in God’s time, not ours. In Genesis 3, the grasping of fruit is less about appetite and more about autonomy. To seize before its time is to make wisdom collapse into folly.

Paul would later write, “The wisdom of this world is foolishness with God” (1 Corinthians 3:19). The mystics often spoke of a wisdom that comes not by grasping but by surrender. True wisdom is received, not snatched. It ripens only in the soil of trust. To forget that all wisdom is participation in God is to fall back into Exile.

Grace in the Garden of Eden

When Adam and Eve hide, God does not thunder judgment first. He asks a question: “Where are you?” (Genesis 3:9). It is the first question God asks in Scripture, and it has never stopped echoing. It is less a demand for location than a call to self-awareness. Where are you? Not just in the garden, but in your soul, in your wandering, in your ache.

The desert fathers and mothers taught that prayer begins not with words but with awareness. To stand before God is to hear that question again and again. Where are you? The psalmist answers, “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?” (Psalm 139:7). Even in hiding, God is near. Even in Exile, our being still participates in Him.

Shame, Blame, and the Covering of God

We cover ourselves with fig leaves, then point fingers to deflect the weight of our shame. The first man blames the first woman. The first woman blames the serpent. This is the rhythm of fallen humanity: hiding, deflecting, excusing. But even here, grace intrudes. God does not leave them naked. “The Lord God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them” (Genesis 3:21).

The covering is both tender and terrible. Tender, because it restores dignity. Terrible, because it hints at the cost of covering. Life surrendered for life preserved. The cross is already flickering in the shadows of Eden. To be clothed by God is to be reminded that even when we try to cover ourselves in fear, our true being remains grounded in Him.

The Curse and the Serpent

The serpent is not annihilated but transformed. Dust becomes its food, enmity its destiny. The curse is not a spell but a new pattern of existence. Relationships fracture. Creation distorts. Struggle is woven into soil and womb alike.

Yet even here, hope is stitched in. “He will crush your head, and you will strike his heel” (Genesis 3:15). A wound will remain, but victory will come. The first gospel is spoken over the dust. The Eastern fathers often called this the “protoevangelium”, the first glimmer of redemption. Even in curse, God remains the source of being, and from Him redemption begins to unfold.

Exile and the Ache of Humanity

To be human is to be east of Eden. To till soil that resists. To live under a curse and yet still carry promise. Adam names Eve “mother of all living,” even as death has entered the story (Genesis 3:20). Exile is unavoidable, but so is God’s relentless pursuit.

And yet, to be truly human is more than east of Eden. It is to walk in the cool of the day with God. It is to flourish in the garden, unashamed, at peace with creation, with self, and with one another. Exile names our condition. Communion names our calling.

Julian of Norwich once wrote, “Our soul is made of God and in God it is grounded.” To be human is to ache for that grounding. We evolve, not merely biologically but spiritually, socially, and theologically. From garden to city, from scattering to gathering, from Babel’s confusion to Pentecost’s tongues of fire. Humanity is still in process, but its being remains anchored in the One who was there in the beginning.

New Creation

Genesis 1-11 is not just about what went wrong but about what God will set right. These are the seed-stories, and they lean forward. From the waters of the flood to the scattering at Babel, creation keeps unravelling. And yet the Spirit hovers still, waiting to call forth a new beginning.

Paul names Jesus the “last Adam” (1 Corinthians 15:45), and John sees a new heaven and a new earth (Revelation 21:1). The garden at the beginning becomes the city at the end, the Tree of Life reappearing, its leaves “for the healing of the nations” (Revelation 22:2).

Gregory of Nyssa’s words echo here, too. Only God has being in Himself, and at the end, all creation will be drawn into that fullness. “In the beginning, God” will one day be heard again as “God all in all” (1 Corinthians 15:28). The end is a return to the beginning, to the One who called us into life.

We read these stories not as distant myths but as mirrors. They are the patterns we still live in: hiding, blaming, longing, wandering. But they are also the patterns of God: seeking, covering, promising, recreating.

Perhaps the most profound truth of Genesis 1 to 11 is not simply how the world began, but that God refuses to let the story end in Exile. The God who walks in the twilight of Eden still walks among us, still asks the old question, still whispers us toward new creation.

Running Between Worlds: A Poetic Retelling of Hebrews 11–12:2

Camaron G. W. SmithLeave a comment
Five shadowed figures walk along a narrow path through a golden field toward distant mountains, under a dark, moody sky.

I think of faith, and it feels like a pulse beneath the skin.
Not loud.
Not something you can point to.
Just the quiet certainty that what we hope for is already alive, even when the eyes see nothing.

This is how they lived, those who came before us.
They stepped forward into places they could not see.
They believed a voice that spoke before time began.
The world was called out of nothing, from what no hand could hold.

I remember Abel, whose blood still sings.
Enoch, who walked with God until the earth could no longer keep him.
Noah, hammering wood while the sky stayed clear.
Abraham, leaving the warmth of the known, set up tents in a land that was only his by promise.
Sarah, laughing at the thought, then held laughter itself in her arms.

The dying blesses the living.
The bound blessing the free.
The exiles blessed the land they had never touched.

Some saw seas open.
Some saw walls crumble.
Some silenced the mouths of lions.
Others felt the weight of chains, the teeth of the saw.
They wandered deserts, hid in caves, clothed in skins, strangers, the world was not worthy of.

And all of them died still looking forward,
eyes lit by a promise that waited for us too.

So here we are, surrounded by their presence,
their stories still breathing in the air around us.
We let go of what weighs us down.
We shake free from the sin that clings like a shadow.
We run, slow and steady, breath after breath,
our eyes on Jesus.

He is the one who began this faith.
He is the one who will bring it to completion.
For joy beyond the grave, He endured the cross.
He bore the shame and broke its hold.
And now He rests in light, at the right hand of God.

God in the Dark: After Psalm 97

Camaron G. W. SmithLeave a comment

I used to think
that certainty was faith—
a sure thing, a clean answer,
a way of knowing
without the waiting.

But the text says
clouds and thick darkness
are around Him,
which means
whatever throne He sits on
is hidden—
not because He is cruel,
but because He is close
in a way that won’t be tamed.

It says righteousness and justice
are the foundation,
not visibility.
Not control.
Not clarity.

So now I wonder
if faith is less about knowing
and more about trusting
the One
who sometimes stays behind the smoke,
but never leaves the room.

And maybe this is how
He teaches us—
not with thunder,
but with the stillness
that follows.
Not with a map,
but with a presence
that unsettles
and also holds.

Maybe certainty
was never the point.
Maybe love is.
And maybe
that’s enough
to worship in the dark.

Propitiation and Redemption in the Book of Romans

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This was a recent essay I did in my Romans class at college. I’m proud of this because I got pretty good grades for it so I thought I’d share it with all of you. Enjoy 🙂

The themes of redemption (ἀπολυτρώσεως) and propitiation (ἱλαστήριον) can be found throughout the entire storyline of the Bible. From Genesis 3, where God makes the promise that a seed will come to destroy the serpent (Gen 3:15), then God takes an animal, slays it, and covers Adam and Eve in animal skin (Gen 3:21), through to the sacrificial laws in Leviticus, all the way to Jesus in the Gospels, these themes are richly integrated into the very fabric and thrust of the Bible’s entire narrative. Paul, in particular, picks up on these essential themes and, in his epistle to the Romans, he masterfully espouses a rich theology in light of the Messiah and the entire Old Testament Scriptures. However, the themes of propitiation and redemption in Romans have not been without controversy.

This essay will aim to trace Paul’s usage of both themes of propitiation and redemption throughout the book of Romans. This will be done by exploring critical passages in Romans where these themes occur, exploring the debate among scholars and the various interpretations of the terms, and finally exploring any implications that are applicable to the Christian life.

  • Redemption in Romans

First, it is crucial to have some historical context behind the idea of redemption to better understand how Paul uses the word in Romans. In the Greco-Roman world, to redeem someone was to liberate a slave by purchasing (or ransoming) their freedom (Morris 1993, 784). This understanding of redemption was true for all of antiquity, going back as far as the Exodus story where God frees (redeems and ransoms) Israel from servitude to the Egyptians (Ex 12-24). For Paul and his audience, the theme of redemption would have evoked memories of the exodus stories of freedom from slavery, crossing the red sea, wilderness wanderings, Passover, promised land, and exile (Wright 2002, 470-471). 

Twice we come across the word redemption explicitly being used. The first is in Romans 3:24 “and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus,” and then again in Romans 8:23 “And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.” However, redemptive imagery can be found all over the letter such as in Romans 6, where Paul uses slavery language to demonstrate that those in Christ are now slaves to righteousness and God rather than sin and the flesh (Morris 1993, 785). 

  • Redemption in Romans 3:24

As aforementioned, the first place we find the word redemption is in Romans 3:24 quoted above. In this passage, Paul is arguing that justification (the forensic declaration of being acquitted from sin) is a gift from God that comes via freedom from slavery (redemption) to sin (Hagner 2008, 70-71). Scholars debate whether redemption in this passage includes payment (or ransom) so that one can be set free. As already mentioned, the ancient world and secular Greek literature always assumed some payment would occur for the slave to be set free. However, when one considers both the Septuagint (LXX) and the New Testament, it is evident that a ransom is not always present in the idea of redemption (Schreiner 2018, 197-198). Nevertheless, most scholars agree that Paul most likely had both ransom and redemption in mind (Schreiner 2018, 198). Though, instead of the ransom being paid by God the Son to God the Father (Moo 1996, 230-231), it was paid by God in Christ to “the personified power of sin” mentioned in Romans 3:9 (Dunn 1988, 180).

  • Redemption in Romans 8:23

The second passage we find the word redemption is in Romans 8:23. Here we have Paul discussing the redemption of the created order in relationship with human redemption. Throughout the entire letter of Romans, Paul has an impressive theology of creation that culminates in this passage as he is concerned with the renewal of everything God has created, not just humans or His elect (Stenschke 2017, 261-289). Scholars agree that redemption is closely related to adoption as they are used almost interchangeably to demonstrate the now and not yet tensions in Paul’s argument. Paul argues that the Christian has already been redeemed (adopted), that they are being redeemed (spiritually), and that they will be redeemed (physically) at the eschatological end of the age (Moo 1996, 518-520). Mike Bird explains this well in his commentary when he says, “in the case of redemption, it is not just redemption from the penalty of sin, but the redemption of the body from the presence of sin that remains outstanding. The resurrection of the body will be the event that will consummate both adoption and redemption” (Bird 2016, 280).

  • Hilasterion in Romans

Propitiation or the Greek word hilasterion (ἱλαστήριον) occurs only once in all of Paul’s letters in Romans 3:25, “whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God’s righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins,” making Paul’s use of the word a hot topic for debate among scholars. C. H. Dodd famously argued that the word should be translated as expiation (the removal of sin) as opposed to the pagan idea of God’s anger needing to be satisfied through sacrifice (Hodd 1935, 82-95). Later, the reformed interpretation of propitiation (to satisfy God’s wrath) was championed by Leon L. Morris in his book “The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross” (Morris 1965, 144-213) as he called into question the validity of Dodd’s interpretation of the word (Moo 1996, 198-199). Additionally, others have argued that the hilasterion should be interpreted as “mercy seat” where atonement took place in Leviticus 16 (Gundry-Volf 1993, 279-284).

  • Propitiation

Some scholars argue that hilasterion should be translated as “propitiation”, meaning “the removal or satisfaction of God’s wrath.” Interestingly, there is some debate among exponents of propitiation as to whether “sacrifice” exists in the passage. Scholars agree that a sacrifice is not found in the atonement, making it difficult to argue for a sacrifice in Romans 3:25. However, some would argue that Paul innovatively develops the idea of a present sacrifice in the propitiatory theme (Moo 1996, 236). On the other hand, scholars would reject the idea of a sacrifice being present that Paul’s expression means “to make atonement” not “to offer a sacrifice.” They argue that, at best, sacrifice is in the back of Paul’s mind, not in the forefront. Nevertheless, advocates all agree that “Christ adverted the divine wrath from sinners” (Morris 1988, 181).

Scholars argue for propitiation in Romans 3:25 in two primary ways. First, scholars explain that the common use of the word in the ancient world was to either satisfy or remove wrath (Kidner 1982, 119-136). Second, proponents of propitiation argue that the biblical context of Romans 3:25 is that all of humanity are sinners under the wrath of God (Rom 1:18-3:20), insinuating that if hilasterion does not mean the removal of wrath, then humanity is still under it (Mounce 1995, 117). 

  • Expiation and Mercy Seat

Other scholars argue that hilasterion should be translated as expiation meaning that Christ’s death “is how God does away with his people’s sin – not symbolically, as in the ritual of Leviticus 16 in which the material mercy-seat figured, but really” (Bruce 1985, 111). In other words, God removes sin or cleanses a person via Christ’s blood and His death. Scholars who advocate for this view recognise the Old Testament connections that Paul is making to Exodus 25 and Leviticus 16, where the lid of the ark or “the mercy seat” was the place where sin was dealt with. It is where the high priest during the Day of Atonement would sprinkle blood as a sacrifice to cleanse the temple and himself so that he would not die in the presence of God (Wright 2002, 474). Additionally, the priest would lay the sins of the people on the head of a goat and literally remove the sin by sending the goat away from the camp. All of this was in Paul’s mind in Romans 3:25 (Dunn 1988, 171). These same scholars point out that in these rituals there is no mention of judgement or wrath being vicariously satisfied through the animals on behalf of the people. In fact, the killing of the animals was never part of the atonement, they were slain elsewhere, and it was the blood that was used at the alter (Wright 2016, 295-355). Finally, these scholars are quick to point out that the word hilasterion nearly always means or refers “mercy seat” in the LXX (Bailey 2000, 155-158) and in it means mercy seat in its other New Testament occurrence in Hebrews 9:5 (Stott 2001, 114).

  • Satisfy or Cleanse?

So out of the interpretations discussed in this essay, which are the most convincing? Both. When all the evidence is considered, there is no reason not to believe that Paul here has both in mind the secular use of the word hilasterion (propitiation) and the biblically canonical one (expiation and mercy seat). As N. T. Wright says in his commentary, “But that fact remains that in 1:18-3:20 Paul has declared that the wrath of God is revealed against all ungodliness and wickedness and that despite God’s forbearance this will this will finally be meted out; that in 5:8, and in the whole promise of 8:1-30, those who are Christ’s are rescued from wrath; and that the passage in which the reason for the change is stated is 3:25-26…” (Wright 2002, 476). In other words, the redemption of humanity comes via Christ’s hilasterion, that is, His expiating sacrifice as that removes sin and, in turn, wrath from those who are united to Him by faith (Bird 2016, 119).  

  • Implications for Christian Ministry and Living

The themes of redemption and hilasterion are among some of the most important themes in all of Scripture as they relate to the death of Jesus and our salvation. These themes are central to the Gospel, and therefore, central to the Christian life and ministry. For some, the nuance and semantics might lead some to dismiss the question of there being any implications in these fleshed out themes. However, without a nuanced understanding of our salvation, the Christian is left deficient in their ability to espouse the Gospel that saved them. These themes affect Christians in two main ways, in our church ministries (i.e., pulpit ministry) and how we live out our vocation as image-bearers (Gen 1:26).

  •  Ministry

Gospel-centred preaching is at the heart of our church services and ministries. Preaching God’s Word is how we teach, rebuke, correct, and instruct our members in righteousness so that they may be equipped to live out the Christian life (2 Tim 3:16-17). Therefore, having a nuanced and concise understanding of how we are saved shapes the way we live our lives. Is the emphasis of the Gospel on being saved from an angry God who hates humanity until we trust in Jesus, or is that we have been freed (redeemed), cleansed from sin (expiated) so that we can now live out our vocation as God intended? If it is only the former, then that simply solves God’s attitude towards humanity. The latter however, free’s humanity, in Christ to live as they were meant to, a kingdom of priests imaging God (1 Pet 2:9). This freeing and vocational calling needs to be the focus of our sermons.

  • Christian Life: Our Mission

If we get the Gospel nuances right in our pulpits, then we can live biblically in our lives and mission. If we see that Jesus’ death has freed us, ransomed us, cleansed us from sin for a purpose, we are starting to get to the heart of the Gospel. God has always intended humanity to be a new creation in Christ that images him and lives as genuinely human. N. T. Wright sums this up well when he says, “through the cross of Jesus won the Passover Victory over the powers, that he did this precisely by dying under the weight of the world’s sin, and that Christian mission consists of putting this victory into practice using the same means” (Wright 2016, 408). Love your neighbour (Mk 12:30-31) and enemies (Matt 5:44), even to the point of death so that they may “taste and see that the Lord is good” (Ps 34:8). 

  • Conclusion

In this essay, we explored the themes of redemption and propitiation in Paul’s epistle to the Romans. Paul’s use of the word redemption in Romans 3:24 indicates a clear theology of the individual being set free from sin, and 8:23 indicated Paul’s theology that the entire created order groans as it eagerly awaits to be set free (redeemed) from sin on the eschatological day of judgment when Jesus comes to make all things new. Furthermore, this essay explored Pauls use of the word hilasterion, which could either be translated as propitiation or expiation (and mercy seat taken from Leviticus 16). From all the evidence considered, it seems that Paul emphasises a theology of expiation with a propitiatory theme implicit in the text. This means that Jesus’ death cleanses the believer from sin, sets him free and then because of that expiation, God’s wrath is turned away from the believer (an implied consequence of Jesus’ death, not an explicit one). Finally, with that in mind, it is clear that this emphasis on expiation, when preached from our pulpits, results in a vocational calling for the Christian instead of simply an attitude shift from God’s behalf towards the person. 

List of References

Bailey, Daniel P. 2000. “Jesus as the Mercy Seat: The Semantics and Theology of Paul’s Use of Hilasterion in Romans 3:25.” Tyndale Bulletin, no. 51.1: 155-158.

Bird, Michael F. 2016. Romans. 2nd ed.The Story of God Bible Commentary. Edited by Tremper Longman III and Scot McKnight. Grand Rapids: Zondervan.

Dunn, J. D. G. 1988. Romans 1–8, Vol. 38A. World Bible Commentary. Dallas: Word Incorporated.

Bruce, F. F. 1985. Romans an Introduction and a Commentary. Tyndale New Testament Commentary. Downers Grove: Inter-Varsity Press.

Gundry-Volf, J, M. 1993. “Expiation, Propitiation, Mercy Seat” in The Dictionary of Paul and his Letters, edited by Gerald F. Hawthorn, Ralph P. Martin, and Daniel G. Reid, 279-284. Downers Grove: Inter-Varsity Press.

Hagner, Donald A. 2008. “Romans” in The Expositors Bible Commentary, Vol. 11, edited by Tremper Longman III and David E, 19-238. Grand Rapids: Zondervan.

Hodd, C. D. 1935. The Bible and the Greek. London: Hodder and Stoughton.

Kidner, Derek. 1982. “Sacrifice – Metaphors and Meaning.” Tyndale Bulletin no. 33: 119-136.

Moo, Douglas J. 1996. The Epistle to the Romans. The New International Commentary on the New Testament. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans Publishing Company.

Morris, L. 1955. The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross. Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdman Publishing Co.

Morris, L. 1988. The Epistle to the Romans. The Pillar New Testament Commentary. Grand Rapids, MI; Leicester, England: W.B. Eerdmans; Inter-Varsity Press.

Morris, L. 1993. “Redemption” in The Dictionary of Paul and His Letters, edited by Gerald F. Hawthorn, Ralph P. Martin, and Daniel G. Reid, 784-786. Downers Grove: Inter-Varsity Press.

Mounce, R. H. 1995. Romans, Vol. 27. The New American Commentary. Nashville: Broadman & Holman Publishers.

Schreiner, Thomas R. 2018. Romans. 2nd ed. Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic.

Stenschke, Christoph. 2017. “Human and Non-Human Creation and Its Redemption in Paul’s Letter to the Romans.” Neotestamentica, no. 51:2. 261-289, 

Stott, John. 1994. The Message of Romans: God’s Good News for the World. The Bible Speaks Today. London: Inter-Varsity Press.

Wright, N. T. 2002. “Romans” in The New Interpreters Bible, Volume X. 393-770. Nashville: Abingdon Press.

Wright, N. T. 2016. The Day the Revolution Began. New York: Harper Collins Publishers.