Mellō and the Real Bias Problem

A central claim of hyper-preterist interpretation is that the Greek verb μέλλω always and exclusively means “about to.” From this assertion, hyper-preterists argue that every New Testament reference to resurrection, judgment, or the coming of Christ must have been fulfilled imminently—usually by AD 70. When this claim is challenged, proponents often shift their argument by alleging that Greek lexicons, grammars, and Bible translators are biased. They insist that theological commitment to a future resurrection has led mainstream scholarship to dilute the word’s “true” meaning and obscure the implications of μέλλω for eschatology. For example, speaking of the alleged bias of translators, Kim Burgess and Gary DeMar write:

The presence of this Greek word mellō severely embarrasses the translators because it does not fit into their preset prophetic/eschatological paradigms, so they often skip over it entirely and refuse to translate it, as was the case in Romans 8:18 in the NASB, or else they attempt to cover it up with language such as ‘there shall certainly be’ as was the case in a crucial text like Acts 24:15, ‘there shall certainly be a resurrection of both the righteous and the wicked’ instead of what it really says in the Greek, ‘there is about to be a resurrection of both the righteous and the wicked.’ In short, based on these English translators, this imminency (time) factor is cast out or eclipsed entirely. This is so tragic for our being enabled to come to a sound and proper understanding of NT eschatology per OT Israel as Paul understood it.¹

But this charge simply doesn’t hold up under scrutiny. It misunderstands both the nature of language and the task of lexicography. And ironically, it reveals the very theological bias it accuses others of holding. At its core, the hyper-preterist use of μέλλω rests not on contextual analysis but on semantic absolutism—a rigid and selective reading of Greek meant to uphold a preconceived theological agenda.

To begin, it's critical to recognize that Greek lexicons are descriptive tools, not theological defenses. Lexicons such as BDAG, LSJ, and Thayer’s are designed to document how words were actually used in real-world texts, not to promote a specific doctrine. Liddell-Scott-Jones (LSJ), for example, was developed by classical philologists in the 19th century, long before the rise of debates over hyper-preterism. It draws upon thousands of examples from classical and Hellenistic literature, not primarily from Scripture. BDAG (Bauer-Danker-Arndt-Gingrich), widely regarded as the most authoritative lexicon for New Testament Greek, includes a massive corpus of examples from papyri, inscriptions, and other non-Christian documents from the ancient world. It is not the product of evangelical theology, but of careful philological research. Thayer’s lexicon, while older, reflects the same data-driven approach. These reference tools are written by scholars—some of whom are not even Christians—whose goal is to capture the breadth of word usage across centuries and genres of Greek writing.

The accusation of bias is therefore a genetic fallacy. Simply saying that the scholars or institutions behind the lexicons hold a future eschatology does not invalidate the lexical evidence they present. The question is not what someone believes, but whether their analysis is grounded in documented usage. And on that front, the major lexicons are not lacking.

In fact, if lexicons were actually driven by bias, they would avoid listing “about to” as a meaning altogether. But they do not. BDAG’s very first entry for μέλλω is “to take place at a future point of time and so to be subsequent to another event, be about to, used w. an inf. foll.,” and it cites numerous passages to support this usage. It then goes on to include other well-attested meanings such as “to be destined,” “to be certain,” or “to be inevitable,” depending on the grammatical construction and context. The mere fact that μέλλω appears with a future infinitive (μέλλειν ἔσεσθαι) or an aorist infinitive (μέλλειν ἀποκαλυφθῆναι) does not automatically signal imminence—it depends on how the construction functions in the sentence and what kind of action is being described.

This brings us to an important linguistic principle: meaning in any language is contextual, not mechanical. Hyper-preterists often assume that words have fixed, static meanings, and that those meanings must be applied uniformly in every case. But that is not how Greek—or any natural language—works. The same English phrase, “I’m going to eat dinner,” might refer to something happening in five minutes or three hours, depending on the context. Similarly, μέλλω can imply imminence (“about to happen”) in some texts, while in others it simply means “going to happen,” “destined to happen,” or “certain to occur,” with no necessary sense of nearness.

Lexicons reflect this semantic flexibility because they’re compiled by observing hundreds of examples in varied contexts. BDAG notes that μέλλω occurs most frequently with the present infinitive, and while this often implies imminence, it also sometimes functions as a periphrastic future—especially when paired with verbs like ἔσεσθαι (“to be”), as in Acts 24:15. In that verse, Paul speaks of a “resurrection that is going to be” (μέλλειν ἔσεσθαι), and BDAG rightly interprets this not as imminent, but as certain. The structure reflects a formal idiom to underscore future certainty rather than urgency. In particular, the construction μέλλω + future infinitive (as in μέλλειν ἔσεσθαι) was a common way in Koine Greek to indicate something that would certainly take place in the future. This idiom emerged more frequently as the classical future tense forms began to fade from common use. As the future infinitive and participle declined in productivity, Greek speakers increasingly turned to periphrastic constructions—like μέλλω combined with infinitives—to express futurity. Rather than emphasizing imminence, this structure functioned to assert that the action was sure to happen. Thus, in Acts 24:15, Paul’s use of μέλλειν ἔσεσθαι conveys confident expectation of a resurrection, not necessarily its nearness in time.

Moreover, this diversity of usage is not confined to biblical Greek. Pre-Christian and non-Christian literature also uses μέλλω in non-imminent contexts. Xenophon, Herodotus, Plutarch, and others employed the term to describe actions that were expected to happen eventually, not necessarily immediately. In the papyri, μέλλω often appears where we would translate it as “will,” particularly in legal or bureaucratic documents forecasting future actions. If even pagan authors use μέλλω in non-imminent ways, then the idea that Christian lexicographers manipulated its meaning to preserve futurist theology becomes untenable. Are we to believe Plutarch was part of a theological conspiracy too?

The real theological bias, in fact, lies in hyper-preterism’s rigid insistence that μέλλω always must mean “about to.” This is a textbook example of lexical absolutism—imposing a single meaning on a word regardless of the syntactic, literary, or historical context in which it appears. When hyper-preterists claim that every eschatological reference using μέλλω must refer to events about to occur in the first century, they are not practicing exegesis; they are forcing the language to serve a predetermined system. This is the very opposite of careful, contextual interpretation.

What’s more, this approach leads to strained and inconsistent readings of Scripture. Take Acts 24:15 again. Paul declares his hope in “a resurrection of both the just and the unjust”—a hope he explicitly says is shared by his Pharisaic accusers: “having a hope in God, which these men themselves accept” (Acts 24:15, ESV). The phrase μέλλειν ἔσεσθαι is a textbook case of μέλλω with the future infinitive—a construction that emphasizes future certainty, not imminent timing. The Pharisees certainly weren’t anticipating a symbolic or metaphorical resurrection in AD 70 involving a supposed transition of Israel from being 'in Adam' to being 'in Christ'—a doctrine later invented and promoted by Max King, a rejected Church of Christ minister. They were expecting, as Paul was, a real, bodily resurrection at the end of the age. Paul does not challenge their expectation—he affirms it as his own. That fact stands in direct opposition to the hyper-preterist narrative and exposes the theological overreach that drives their interpretation of μέλλω.

The broader Reformed tradition has long recognized that certain biblical judgments—such as the fall of Jerusalem in AD 70—were indeed approaching. Jesus Himself spoke of that destruction as a coming event within the lifetime of His hearers. But acknowledging this does not mean that every occurrence of μέλλω in the New Testament refers to the same time frame. Scripture itself distinguishes between events that were impending and those that pertain to the consummation of the age. Reformed theologians such as Calvin, Vos, Gentry, and others have consistently recognized these distinctions. They affirm urgency where the text calls for it, but also maintain future expectation where the context clearly points beyond the first century. This is not lexical inconsistency; it is responsible exegesis.

When we survey the major lexicons, the evidence is consistent. BDAG categorizes μέλλω under multiple headings: to be about to, to be destined or certain, to delay, and to indicate future time. LSJ reflects this same diversity, drawing from centuries of classical usage to show that the term can mean “likely to,” “destined to,” or “about to,” depending on the construction and context. Thayer does the same, distinguishing cases where imminence is implied from those where destiny or certainty is intended. All three lexicons treat μέλλω as a flexible, context-sensitive word—never a fixed technical term.

The hyper-preterist claim that μέλλω always means “about to” is linguistically and lexically indefensible. The charge that lexicons and translators suppress the word’s true meaning due to theological bias is not only unfounded but ironically reveals a deeper bias in the hyper-preterist method itself. Sound interpretation requires attention to grammar, syntax, and literary context—not the imposition of a theological agenda onto every text. The Greek language, like any human language, is rich, varied, and nuanced. To flatten its meaning for the sake of a system is to do violence not only to the text but to the God who inspired it.

If hyper-preterism wants to be taken seriously, it must stop hiding behind conspiracy theories about translation bias and start grappling with the full weight of the linguistic and theological evidence. The New Testament was not written in code, nor was it crafted to support a late-modern system invented to erase the Church’s future hope. The tools of exegesis—grammar, syntax, context, and lexical analysis—are not the enemy. They are the means by which the church rightly divides the word of truth. And when those tools are faithfully applied, they dismantle the hyper-preterist house of cards with force and finality.

1. Kim Burgess and Gary DeMar, The Hope of Israel and the Nations: New Testament Eschatology Accomplished and Applied, Vol. 1 (Powder Springs, GA: American Vision, 2024), 215-216.