4. The Lexical Fallacy.
While it might be tempting, pointing to the lexical definition of a Greek word doesn’t tell you what the word means in a particular context.
Consider this sentence: “I know a pilot who likes to fly, who went camping and put a fly over his tent, went fly fishing, then realized he was late for a plane and had to fly to an airport, where he realized he didn’t look very fly because his fly was undone, and just at that moment a fly landed on his nose (Thank you, Dr. Jennings!).”
There’s one word used seven times in seven different ways, and my guess is you had no question what I meant each time I used it. Words have meaning only in relationship to other words; for this reason, a lexicon can only tell you potential meaning, not actual meaning.
5. The Word-Argument Fallacy.
No matter what anyone tells you, don’t suppose that the definition of one word can solve a theological argument.
As a general rule, resorting to the meaning of a particular word to make a theological point is unhelpful at best, destructive at worst. If I need to appeal to the meaning of a word in a certain verse to settle a theological debate, I’ve already lost.
Don’t get me wrong — sometimes word studies are great aids to good theology. But if my whole argument hinges on one flexible word, I’m probably off.
6. The Authorless Fallacy.
Not every author speaks the same way. James doesn’t use the word “justify” the same way Paul uses the word “justify.”
By the same token, the same author usually speaks the same way. So when Jesus says to Peter, “Do you agape me?” or “Do you phileo me?” is he making a giant distinction between selfless love and brotherly love that can only be seen in the Greek? Actually, no. John uses the word phileo and agape interchangeably in his narrative to refer to Jesus’ love for his disciples, their love for them, etc. To make a credible case, we’re going to need to cite the same author’s use of the same word to justify its definition.
7. The “Webster’s Dictionary” fallacy.
First, Noah Webster didn’t write the Bible.
Second, taking a Greek word like “Dunamai” (I have power, or authority) and saying, “This is where we get our word for ‘Dynamite,’ which Webster defines as ‘a high explosive, originally consisting of nitroglycerin mixed with an absorbent substance, now with ammonium nitrate usually replacing the nitroglycerin,'” is just plain abusive. It’s a backward way of defining a term. Just because we borrow from the Greek doesn’t mean there’s a univocal relationship between root words and modern terms.
