Mellō, is it me you're looking for?

A Response to Gary DeMar’s Misuse of Greek, Grammar, and the Resurrection Hope

Gary DeMar has finally responded to one of my articles, specifically Mellō and the Real Bias Problem. His piece attempts to address my critique of his misuse of the Greek verb mellō. But before I respond to the substance of what he wrote, there are two things that need to be said now that I seem to have his attention.

First, Gary writes, “Will any of what I’ve written here persuade Bradfield in the slightest? Don’t count on it because I’m not counting on it.” He is right—but not for the reasons he assumes. It is not because I have not considered his argument. It is because I know it inside and out. I was a hyper-preterist for seven years, from 2003 to 2010. I made the exact same conspiratorial claims about mellō that Gary now repeats. I used to carry around a physical copy of Young’s Literal Translation like it was the gold standard of Bible versions. I accused translators of theological bias, even though I knew no Greek. I cherry-picked lexicon entries and imposed a single gloss of mellō on every occurrence of the word, ignoring syntax and context entirely. That history does not make me automatically right today, but it does mean that nothing Gary has said is new to me. I have already believed it, argued it, and practiced it.

But in 2010, the Lord graciously humbled me, and I let go of the conspiracy theory. It was not because I was afraid to question orthodoxy. I had already done that. It was not because I feared losing friends, ministry opportunities, or institutional approval. I had already paid the price for walking that road. I changed my view not out of fear, but because I was confronted with the reality that my method was intellectually lazy and theologically reckless. It was not exegesis. It was a manipulation of the text to serve an abstract theory I had embraced out of frustration with endless date setters. And by God’s mercy, I walked away from it.

Second, Gary has overlooked a list of responses, many of which were written directly to him. He has repeatedly and falsely accused Whitefield Theological Seminary of enrolling and awarding degrees to hyper-preterists. That simply never happened. He has also accused the late Dr. Ken Talbot of being lenient with Sam Frost during the years Sam held to hyper-preterism. That claim has no basis in fact. In addition to these false accusations, Gary has refused to engage with my critique of the word-concept fallacy he commits with the Westminster Confession of Faith and 1 Corinthians 15. He has not responded to my articles on Philippians 3:21 or Hebrews 9:27. He has offered no explanation for what appears to be a denial, on Kim Burgess’ part, of the ongoing incarnation of Christ and how, when held consistently alongside their reading of 1 Corinthians 15:28, it leads to a subordinationist view of the Godhead. Nor has he interacted with any of my material on 1 Corinthians 15.

While he did reference my article Coming to Judge Gary DeMar: A Confessional Response to a Heretical Eschatology, he incorrectly claimed it was a response to his piece Is Lip Service Being Paid to Sola Scriptura? It was not. It was written as a direct response to his article Coming to Judge the Living and the Dead: The Creeds, History, and Biblical Language. The fact that the title mirrored his own should have made that clear. That it went over his head is telling. And his open admission—“I have not read it”—says even more.

For some reason, the topic of mellō finally pulled Gary out of hiding. Why now? I do not know. Maybe he has ignored the facts about Whitefield Seminary and Dr. Talbot because acknowledging them would mean admitting that he has been making things up without evidence. Or, and I suspect this is the real reason, he is simply repeating myths that were fed to him by Roderick Edwards—the same Roderick Edwards who, ironically, once tried to “blackmail” Gary “by threatening to contact American Vision supporters.” Those are Gary’s words. At the time, Gary rightly called it “the tactics of a child. Ignore him.” Now, oddly enough, he links him. But whatever the reason, Gary has finally responded, at least to the bit on mellō. So let’s take a closer look at his argument.

Gary begins with this:

Jason Bradfield posted a lengthy article titled “Mellō and the Real Bias Problem” where he challenges the claim that the Greek word mellō always means “about to.” He states, “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.” Get your lexicons out and see if he’s right. You don’t have these lexicons? What did Bible readers do before these lexicons existed? Sorry, you’ll have to trust Jason Bradfield. If you’ve followed my work, it’s ultimately Scripture that determines how mellō is used. While Lexicons are helpful and useful, in the end comparing Scripture with Scripture is what counts since that’s what the early church had.

Gary DeMar’s opening response to my article is not a serious engagement with the argument but a rhetorical diversion filled with logical fallacies and confusion. Rather than interacting with the actual point I made—that lexicons like BDAG, LSJ, and Thayer are descriptive tools that document how Greek words were used across a wide range of real-world contexts—Gary pivots to sarcasm. He quips, “Get your lexicons out and see if he’s right,” followed by, “You don’t have these lexicons? What did Bible readers do before these lexicons existed?” This is not argumentation. It is dismissal through mockery. It ridicules the use of standard scholarly tools without offering any reasoned response to the substance of what those tools reveal. This is a classic example of the appeal to ridicule fallacy, where a view is rejected not because it is shown to be false, but because it is treated as absurd.

In doing so, Gary sets up a false dilemma. He pits lexicons against Scripture, as if one must choose between scholarly resources and the authority of the Bible. But this is a false choice. Lexicons are not competitors to Scripture; they are tools that aid our understanding of it. They exist precisely because most modern readers are not fluent in Koine Greek. Gary’s rhetorical question—“What did Bible readers do before lexicons existed?”—ignores a basic historical fact: the early church spoke Greek! We do not. The early Christians did not need BDAG because Greek was their native language. We do need tools like lexicons because we are far removed—both linguistically and culturally—from the original setting of the New Testament. Pretending otherwise is not a return to apostolic simplicity. It is a rejection of basic exegesis.

More ironically, Gary cannot escape the very lexicons he tries to discredit. How does he even know that mellō can mean “about to” in the first place? That knowledge did not come to him from raw intuition or revelation. It came from the same lexical sources he now attempts to undermine. The fact that he discusses definitions and makes translation choices proves that he relies on these tools, even as he mocks them.

Gary’s suggestion that readers must now “trust Jason Bradfield” is a straw man. I have never asked anyone to trust me personally. What I have pointed to is the publicly accessible linguistic data preserved in standard lexicons, tools compiled by generations of scholars working with a vast range of Greek literature. The information I cite is not based on personal insight or hidden knowledge. It is verifiable and open to anyone willing to study the language carefully.

That said, I am not even asking readers to blindly trust everything a lexicon says. As Louis Berkhof wisely cautioned, “It is necessary to bear in mind that the Lexicons are not absolutely reliable, and that they are least so, when they descend to particulars. They merely embody those results of the exegetical labors of various interpreters that commended themselves to the discriminating judgment of the lexicographer, and often reveal a difference of opinion. It is quite possible, and in some cases perfectly evident, that the choice of a meaning was determined by dogmatical bias.”¹ Lexicons, like all scholarly tools, must be used critically and carefully. But dismissing them altogether, as Gary does when convenient, while still relying on them to claim that mellō means “about to,” is not only inconsistent—it undermines his own position.

Another irony is that while Gary mocks the use of lexicons and scoffs at the idea of trusting my analysis, he expects readers to trust his own interpretation, despite offering it without any demonstrated engagement with the grammar, syntax, or historical usage of the language. In other words, he wants his readers to take his word for it even as he discredits the very tools that allow serious students of Scripture to test and verify such claims. That is not exegesis. That is asking people to trade documented linguistic evidence for one man’s assertions.

Gary’s final move in his opening is to assert that Scripture “determines how mellō is used.” On the surface, this sounds right. Scripture is indeed the ultimate authority. But without clarification, this is deeply misleading.

The first problem with this is that Scripture uses mellō in particular grammatical and literary contexts. We cannot know how it is being used unless we understand how the Greek language works. Comparing Scripture with Scripture is a valid principle, but it must rest on an accurate understanding of what each passage actually means. That requires attention to grammar and context—not simply cross-referencing verses that contain the same word.

This is where Gary completely misunderstands the Reformed principle that Scripture interprets Scripture. That principle does not mean we get to cherry-pick a definition we prefer, find every passage where the word appears, and then impose that one definition across the board. It means that once the grammar and context of a passage are understood, we can compare that passage to others that speak to the same subject or clarify its meaning. Gary does the reverse. He starts with a definition—“about to”—and forces it into every occurrence of mellō, regardless of syntax or context. That is not Scripture interpreting Scripture. That is eisegesis dressed up in confessional, Reformed language.

To see how flawed Gary’s approach is, we need only look at how Greek words actually function in the New Testament. A clear example of this principle can be seen in the Greek word sarx, often translated as “flesh,” which demonstrates how a single term can have multiple legitimate meanings depending on how it is used.

In Luke 24:39, the risen Jesus tells His disciples, “See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me, and see. For a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” Here, sarx plainly refers to literal, physical flesh—Jesus’ real, tangible body after the resurrection. However, in Romans 8:8, Paul uses the same word with an entirely different meaning: “Those who are in the flesh cannot please God.” In this context, sarx is not referring to skin or muscle. It refers to the fallen human nature that stands in opposition to the Spirit of God. It is moral and spiritual, not anatomical. If Paul is teaching that those who are still in their literal, physical flesh body cannot please God, then we are all in serious trouble.

This contrast between Luke 24 and Romans 8 demonstrates that a single Greek word can carry different meanings depending on its literary and theological context. It is a clear reminder that context determines meaning. No Greek word—sarx, mellō, or any other—should ever be treated as if it has only one gloss that must be imposed across every passage where it appears. That is not exegesis.

Secondly, Gary’s appeal to the Reformed principle that “Scripture interprets Scripture” becomes difficult to take seriously when he openly admits he has not done any substantial exegetical work in a central passage like 1 Corinthians 15. This chapter is far from marginal. It is the most comprehensive and theologically developed discussion of the resurrection in all of Paul’s writings. If mellō in Acts 24:15 refers to the resurrection of both the just and the unjust—and if Paul claims that hope as his own—then 1 Corinthians 15 is indispensable for understanding what that hope entails.

Yet by Gary’s own admission, he has not worked through that chapter in depth. In a recent podcast (25:45), he even acknowledged that he does not understand what Paul is saying in 1 Corinthians 15! That presents a serious inconsistency. How can one credibly claim to be using Scripture to interpret Scripture while neglecting the most detailed and doctrinally loaded passage on the very subject in question? The principle only works when the interpreter has actually studied the relevant texts in their full grammatical, literary, and theological context. Ignoring 1 Corinthians 15 while insisting that mellō in Acts 24:15 must mean “about to” is not letting Scripture interpret Scripture. It is taking one verse, assigning it a preferred meaning, and brushing aside the rest of the canon.

This same selective approach shows up again in how Gary handles Acts 24:15. He never addresses one of the central arguments I made in my original article—that Paul explicitly affirms a shared hope with the Pharisees. The grammar, the eschatology, and the context all stand against Gary’s reading, yet he completely ignores them. I will return to this point later, because it exposes how much of the biblical witness must be set aside to maintain the hyper-preterist system.

That is not Scripture interpreting Scripture. It is a theological shortcut that avoids the heavy lifting of exegesis. The Reformed tradition has always insisted that doctrine must rest on the whole of Scripture, carefully handled with grammatical and theological precision. Where that is missing, the claim to honor the principle that Scripture interprets Scripture becomes little more than a slogan used to cover selective readings and avoid serious engagement.

Where is Gary’s understanding of the resurrection and the "last day" as taught by Jesus in John 6? "AI Gary" acknowledges that “Actual Gary” has not addressed John 6’s teaching on the resurrection directly. That is a telling omission. Jesus could not have been more clear or more emphatic. In John 6:37 to 40 He says, "All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never cast out. For I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me. And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day. For this is the will of my Father, that everyone who looks on the Son and believes in him should have eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day." He then repeats the promise in verses 43 to 44: "Do not grumble among yourselves. No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him. And I will raise him up on the last day." And once more in verse 54, in case you missed it: "Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day."

This repeated refrain is not ambiguous. Jesus ties the resurrection directly to the gift of eternal life and the work of the Father in drawing sinners to Himself. The scope is universal. It includes "everyone who believes," "whoever feeds on me," and "all that the Father has given me." These are not limited to pre-AD70 Jews. They are promises to the entire elect of Christ through all ages.

To say that the "last day" refers to AD 70 is not only contextually strained, it collapses Christ’s promise into irrelevance for every believer born after 70 AD. If the last day has already come and gone, then Christ's vow to raise up all who believe in Him has already been fulfilled. That would leave every post-70 AD Christian outside the scope of this promise.

Furthermore, this interpretation would mean that Christ was speaking only to a narrowly defined audience and that His resurrection promise was already exhausted within a single generation. That is not how the early church understood His words. That is not how the apostles preached the resurrection. And that is certainly not how the church has confessed its hope throughout the ages.

By Gary’s (AI) own admission, he has not wrestled with John 6. And that silence speaks volumes. One cannot claim to be doing serious theological work on the resurrection while ignoring one of the clearest resurrection promises given by Jesus Himself. Any system that must avoid John 6, 1 Corinthians 15, and other relevant passages in order to preserve its framework is not built on Scripture. It is built on evasion.

In short, Gary’s opening response avoids serious engagement with both the linguistic and theological substance of the debate. He employs sarcasm, false dichotomies, misrepresentation, and circular reasoning to prop up a predetermined conclusion. The result is not exegesis. It is deflection. His treatment of mellō does not rest on careful textual analysis. It rests on the assumption that he already knows what the word must mean—somehow arriving at that conclusion without the use of Greek lexicons or dictionaries—and then reads that meaning into every passage. That is not how the Reformed tradition handles Scripture. It is how systems shield themselves from scrutiny.

Quite frankly, there is enough here to stop already, because what follows from Gary does nothing to address these core issues. Instead, he simply illustrates the same flawed method in action. That said, I’ll continue.

Gary continues:

Bradfield goes on to say, “The hyper-preterist claim that μέλλω always means ‘about to’ is linguistically and lexically indefensible.” There is no way anyone can demonstrate with certainty that mellō does not always mean “about to.” When a biblical writer uses mellō, as Luke does in his Gospel (12 times) and Acts (34 times), 46 out of 111 occurrences in the New Testament, we can (should) get a good idea of its meaning without going to Josephus and Diognetus as Gentry does. Why not list Bible commentators who translate mellō as “about to”? I have such a list that’s 230 pages of sourced direct quotations. The first time mellō is used in Acts, it’s translated as “about to” (3:3) by the NASB, but in Luke 3:7 it’s translated as just “coming.” The wrath wasn’t just coming; it was “about to come” as Luke 17:22-37, 19:41-44, and 21:1-36 (“all these things that are about to take place” [v. 36]) attest.

Again, Gary’s response reveals a basic misunderstanding of how language functions and what constitutes valid lexical and exegetical analysis. He objects to the claim that the hyper-preterist insistence on mellō always meaning “about to” is linguistically and lexically indefensible by responding that “there is no way anyone can demonstrate with certainty that mellō does not always mean ‘about to.’” But this is not how sound interpretation works. The question is not whether mellō can ever mean “about to.” It clearly can in some contexts. The real issue is whether that meaning is required in every usage. It is not, and I can point to an example—from Luke no less—despite Gary's claim to the contrary.

Take Acts 26:22, where Paul declares that he is “saying nothing but what the prophets and Moses said would come to pass.” The Greek phrase behind “would come to pass” is μελλόντων γίνεσθαι. Young’s Literal Translation renders it, “saying nothing besides the things that both the prophets and Moses spake of as about to come.” But this is where Gary DeMar’s insistence that mellō always means “about to” begins to crumble under the weight of the context.

If mellō always indicates something that is temporally imminent, then Paul is saying that Moses and the prophets—writing as far back as 1400 to 1500 years earlier—spoke of events that were about to happen. That would mean “about to” stretches across fifteen centuries. Gary can’t accept that, of course, because it torpedoes his entire argument. You cannot appeal to imminence while simultaneously applying it to prophecies spoken a millennium and a half before their fulfillment. So what now?

Perhaps Gary would attempt a dodge and claim that mellō doesn’t mean those things were about to happen when Moses and the prophets said them, but rather that Moses and the prophets spoke of things which, in Paul’s day, were now about to happen. But that won’t work either. Why? Because Paul goes on in verse 23 to specify exactly what those things were: “that the Christ must suffer and that, by being the first to rise from the dead, he would proclaim light both to our people and to the Gentiles.” The sufferings of Christ had already taken place. The resurrection of Christ had already happened. The gospel was already being proclaimed. These were not future events in Paul’s moment—they were present realities and in some cases, already past.

So either mellō in Acts 26:22 refers to things that were “about to happen” from the vantage point of Moses—meaning “about to” stretches across over a thousand years—or we recognize what the vast majority of English translators rightly understand: that mellō here conveys not timing but certainty. Moses and the prophets spoke of what would come to pass. That is the natural reading. It aligns with the grammar, the theology, and the redemptive-historical context of the passage.

So the real question is this: Will Gary now argue that “about to” can mean “in 1,500 years”? Or will he retreat to the safer ground of contextually sensitive exegesis—ground he has mocked elsewhere in favor of rigid lexical absolutism? We’ll wait and see. But either way, Acts 26:22–23 stands as a direct and unambiguous refutation of his claim that mellō always signals imminence.

Gary then turns to statistics, noting that mellō appears 46 times in Luke–Acts and 111 times in the New Testament, as if frequency were the key to meaning. But raw word counts say nothing about how a word functions. What matters is the grammatical structure and narrative context in each case. Simply repeating that Luke uses the word often does not tell us how he means it in each instance. Gary also dismisses the value of consulting external Greek sources like Josephus or the Epistle to Diognetus, as if the broader Koine Greek usage outside the Bible were irrelevant. But this overlooks a critical fact: the New Testament was written in a living language. Lexicons draw on that broader usage for a reason. To ignore it is to cut off biblical exegesis from its historical and linguistic roots.

His appeal to a massive list of commentators who translate mellō as “about to” adds bulk but not substance. Citing 230 pages of sources may sound impressive, but unless those uses are evaluated in context and supported by grammatical analysis, the list proves nothing. Quantity cannot replace quality.

This reminds me of the article Preterism 101 by Dave Green. In it, Green lists “101 biblical, preterist ‘time-indicators’” that supposedly teach that “The fulfillment of all prophecy was ‘at hand,’ ‘near,’ ‘soon,’ ‘about to be,’ etc. when the New Testament was written, and it was all to be fulfilled by the time the old covenant vanished and its temple was destroyed (in A.D. 70).” The first verse he cites is: “The kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matt. 3:2). But was John the Baptist’s point to say that the kingdom would arrive in about 40 years? Of course not. He was announcing its nearness in a real, immediate sense. The King had arrived, and the reign of God was breaking into history in the person of Christ. To stretch “at hand” into a four-decade delay strips the phrase of any meaningful urgency and ignores the immediate context of Christ’s earthly ministry. Hyper-preterists often do not think carefully about the implications of their arguments. They find a definition they prefer, plug it into the text, and move on, even when it makes little sense in context.

In the end, Gary’s argument is built on selective citation, assumption, and oversimplification. It relies on the superficial repetition of cherry-picked translations while avoiding serious engagement with syntax, grammar, and literary context. The claim that mellō always means “about to” simply does not hold up when examined in light of the actual textual data. Acts 26:22 is just one clear example that exposes the inadequacy of his method.

He continues:

At no place can it be said that mellō can’t be translated as “about to” or its equivalent. The same is true for how mellō is used in Revelation. For example, mellō appears 13 times in Revelation, and Ken Gentry translates it as “about to” 12 times in his two-volume commentary on Revelation. His exception is with Revelation 1:19. Is there lexical certainty for not translating mellō as “about to” in 1:19? If there is, why do some commentators translate mellōas “about to,” and why did Gentry translate mellō in 1:19 as “about to” in the first edition of The Beast of Revelation and Before Jerusalem Fell? There is no certainty that mellō should not be translated as “about to” in 1:19. In fact, in the way mellō is consistently used in Revelation, five times in chapters 2 and 3, the burden of proof is on those who do not translate mellō as “about to” in 1:19. It’s easy to understand non-preterist interpreters not translating mellō as “about to” but not a preterist like Gentry who translates mellō as “about to” or its equivalent 12 times and translates it once as “will take place.”[4] Revelation was revealed to John in the mid-60s, and the events that follow took place before AD 70 as Gentry believes. This means, as Gentry used to teach, Revelation 1:19 should read, “Therefore write the things which you have seen, and the things which are, and the things which are about to take place [μέλλει γενέσθαι] after these things.” This reading makes perfect sense.[5]

At this point, DeMar shifts his focus to Kenneth Gentry, accusing him of inconsistency. He brings this up again later, but I have no interest in commenting here or there because I am not Dr. Gentry. Still, I will say three things.

First, the fact that Dr. Gentry once translated mellō in Revelation 1:19 as “about to” and later changed his mind does not lead me into a conspiracy theory about his motives. On the contrary, it deepens my respect for him. It shows he is willing to revise his views when the evidence demands it. That is far more admirable than what Gary has done, which is to boast for years about how long he has studied and how many books he has written, as if that somehow proves his position. Worse still, Gary has despicably accused Dr. Gentry of changing his view “so he would not be burned at the stake by the Protestant Popes and lose his publishing market.” That is not only absurd, it is disgraceful. It reveals more about Gary’s willingness to slander a brother than it does about Gentry’s integrity.

Second, Gary keeps insisting that the burden of proof lies with those who do not translate mellō as “about to.” That turns exegesis upside down. Each use of mellō must be evaluated in its own context, including its grammar, sentence structure, and the surrounding flow of thought. Simply quoting commentators or tallying up how many times a word appears proves nothing. For every commentator Gary cites, I can point to two others who say the opposite. That is not meaningful exegesis. It is rhetorical posturing disguised as scholarship.

Third, this exposes the game Gary is playing. He seems to believe that simply pointing to someone who disagrees with you is enough to refute your argument. That is why he demands that everyone who signed the open letter to him produce a single verse they all agree on, as if any disagreement among critics somehow proves his case. But even if we did give him one, it would not matter. He would just quote someone like Samuel Lee or J. Stuart Russell and say, "Well, they translate it differently." If theology worked that way, nothing would ever get settled, because someone can always be found to disagree.

Gary continues:

The only verse Bradfield mentions in his article is Acts 24:15: “having a hope in God, which they themselves also await, that there is about to be [μέλλειν ἔσεσθαι] a resurrection, both of the just and of the unjust.”[6] Bradfield writes, “The phrase μέλλειν ἔσεσθαι is a textbook case of μέλλω with the future infinitive—a construction that emphasizes future certainty, not imminent timing.” Let’s put his claim to the test. Let’s see his receipts and how well he shows his work.

This is where Gary completely ignores the context in which I made the statement. Here is the full quote:

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.

What I was pointing out is that Paul clearly affirms his hope in the same resurrection the Pharisees believed in—a real, physical, end-of-the-age resurrection of both the just and the unjust. The grammatical construction in Acts 24:15, μέλλειν ἔσεσθαι, does not communicate imminence but rather certainty. The issue was not about when the resurrection would happen, but the fact that it would happen. "About to" simply does not fit here, because the Pharisees were not anticipating a symbolic or metaphorical resurrection in AD 70 involving some covenantal transition from being "in Adam" to being "in Christ." They were looking forward to a bodily resurrection at the consummation of history, and Paul explicitly affirms that expectation as his own. This is not a trivial point—it directly contradicts the hyper-preterist narrative. Gary never addresses this. He skips over both the context and the grammar as if Paul's shared expectation with the Pharisees has no bearing on the meaning of the passage.

I would love for Gary DeMar to explain how the Pharisees could possibly have shared in Paul’s hope if that hope was the so-called "transmillennial resurrection" of Max King—a 40-year process culminating in Old Covenant Israel being transformed into the glorified New Covenant body of Christ. That interpretation bears no resemblance at all to what the Pharisees actually believed. I have been asking this question since 2011, and to this day, I have yet to see a single hyper-preterist provide an answer.

And so, Gary skips over it and drops to this:

Bradfield writes, “When we survey the [three] major lexicons, the evidence is consistent. [They categorize] μέλλω under multiple headings: to be about to, to be destined or certain, to delay, and to indicate future time…. All three lexicons treat μέλλω as a flexible, context-sensitive word—never a fixed technical term.” But seemingly not flexible enough to be translated as “about to” in Acts 24:15 and elsewhere. Lexicons are helpful, but let’s see how some commentators translate μέλλω” in Acts 24:15. They have access to the same lexicons and dictionaries that Bradfield and Gentry use.

He then proceeds to cite a list of commentators and translations that render mellō in Acts 24:15 as “about to,” implying imminence. These include Philip Comfort, who explicitly translates the verse as “there is about to be a resurrection,” and Craig Keener, who notes that while mellō need not mean “soon,” that is its most common sense in Luke-Acts. Samuel Lee argues that the word implies a soon-to-occur resurrection, and A.J. Mattill insists that the construction mellein esesthai conveys urgency, suggesting Luke is echoing classical usage to emphasize imminence. Others, like Mikeal Parsons and John Polhill, also speak of a soon-coming resurrection and associate Paul’s words with impending judgment. Robert Young’s Literal Translation and his commentary likewise interpret mellō as “about to be.” Altogether, Gary presents these sources to suggest that many scholars and translators support an imminent reading of the resurrection in Acts 24:15.

But listing commentators is not the same as making an argument. Simply quoting a series of sources who happen to favor the rendering “about to” does not prove that such a translation is correct in Acts 24:15. It proves only that some commentators have chosen that gloss. The real question is whether the grammatical construction and literary context support that interpretation.

I want to encourage readers to actually look up these sources for themselves. I have access to every one of the works Gary quotes from, and when you examine them carefully, several problems emerge.

First, some of these authors, like Philip Comfort and Robert Young, are not engaging in contextual exegesis of Acts 24:15 at all. Comfort’s work is not a commentary in the traditional sense; it is a textual apparatus focused on manuscript variants and translation history. His rendering “there is about to be a resurrection” is not the product of syntactical or theological analysis, but a translational gloss. Young’s material is little more than a hyper-literal rendering, and his conclusions are drawn from a rigid commitment to concordance-style translations—not contextual interpretation.

Second, others on Gary’s list, such as Craig Keener and Mikeal Parsons, do not even make the strong claim that mellō must mean “about to” in Acts 24:15. Keener explicitly notes that mellō “need not mean” imminence and refers to BDAG to support that broader semantic range. His comment that it is “the most common sense in Luke-Acts” is not an argument for uniform usage, but an observation about general patterns—patterns that he himself admits vary by context. Likewise, Parsons includes the phrase “there will soon be a resurrection” as part of his paraphrase of Paul’s speech, but he does not exegete or defend that translation, nor does he treat it as dogmatic. These are not decisive arguments. They are stylistic or rhetorical judgments, often within broader literary analyses of the speeches in Acts.

Third, A.J. Mattill’s argument is the most aggressive, but also the weakest. He claims that mellein esesthai in Acts 24:15 expresses imminence and suggests that Luke may be reverting to classical Greek usage to emphasize urgency. But even Mattill admits this is rare in Koine and uses tentative language like “may” and “seems not unreasonable.” That alone shows the argument lacks confidence. More importantly, he is trying to force the idea of Naherwartung—an imminent expectation—onto the text without clear support from the grammar or the context. This is not solid exegesis. It is speculative and driven by a theological agenda rather than grounded analysis.

Fourth, Polhill's treatment of Acts 24:15 is insightful in parts but problematic when it comes to the meaning of mellein esesthai. He adopts Weymouth’s rendering—“Before long there will be a resurrection”—without critically examining whether the grammar or context supports that reading. His reliance on Mattill's argument that mellō with the future infinitive expresses imminence assumes rather than proves the point.

Polhill also notes that Paul shares the Pharisaic hope in a bodily resurrection of the just and unjust, but then muddies the waters by suggesting Christians believed the resurrection had already begun in Christ. While true in a firstfruits sense, that does not change the future orientation of Acts 24:15. If mellō here means “about to,” Paul and the Pharisees would both be expecting an imminent, symbolic resurrection, which is historically and contextually implausible. In the end, Polhill’s interpretation reads urgency into the text without sufficient grammatical support and misses the doctrinal consistency in Paul’s appeal to a shared future resurrection hope.

Fourth, Gary presents his list of commentators who translate mellō as “about to” as if that alone proves his case. But this is not how serious exegesis is done. Quoting sources or tallying how many commentators agree with a particular gloss is not a method of interpretation. It is an appeal to quantity that bypasses the hard work of analyzing grammar, syntax, literary structure, and theological coherence. Even worse, it creates the illusion of scholarly consensus when there is none.

Even more telling is what Gary fails to address. He does not engage with the counterarguments to his list. He says nothing about Acts 26:22 to 23, which directly challenges his position. He offers no explanation for how his reading of Acts 24:15 aligns with Paul’s statement that the Pharisees shared his resurrection hope—a hope that no Pharisee understood as a symbolic AD 70 covenantal shift. All of this is simply ignored.

So yes, you can compile a handful of commentators who choose the gloss “about to” in Acts 24:15. But unless those interpretations are grounded in sound exegesis and measured against the full biblical and grammatical context, and unless opposing evidence is seriously addressed, those quotes prove nothing.

And just out of curiosity, I looked at these same commentators to see what they say about mellō in Acts 26:22. Comfort says nothing. Keener says nothing. Parsons writes that “Paul’s preaching is an explication of what the prophets and Moses said were going to happen,” but makes no mention of mellō or the phrase “about to.” Polhill translates it as “I am saying nothing beyond what the prophets and Moses said would happen” and, again, never comments on mellō or its timing implications. Samuel Lee mentions verse 22 only in passing: “Paul had preached only such things as he had learned from the Prophets and from Moses (v. 22)—That the Messiah was to be a sufferer, and that he, the First from the time of his anastasis, was to proclaim light—the light of truth and of life—to the people, and to the Gentiles.” Still, no mention of mellō or “about to.” Robert Young simply writes, “say as being about to happen,” but offers no explanation or defense. It is not until we get to A.J. Mattill that mellō in Acts 26:22 is explicitly mentioned, and all he says is, “Mellō in 26:22 also increases the intensity of the expectancy: ‘...what the Prophets and Moses predicted as soon to happen.’”

And that’s it. The only two who bring it up offer no serious analysis. And as I’ve already shown, “about to” makes no sense in the context of Acts 26:22. Perhaps that’s why most of these commentators remain silent on it. Is it a grand conspiracy? Of course not. The simpler and far more likely explanation is that they recognize mellō does not always mean “about to”—especially when the context clearly demands something else.

Gary continues:

Greek-English interlinear translations are a problem for Bradfield since most translate mellō as “about to.” The translators must do something with mellō since it’s in the Greek text. They can’t leave it untranslated like so many translations do.

Many of the commentaries I consulted do not mention mellō. Simon Kistemaker has this note on μέλλειν ἔσεσθαι in Acts 24:15: “the two infinitives both express the future and thus one is redundant. Consult the comment on 11:28.” (see below) But how far in the future? Timing is the issue, and μέλλειν is a present active infinitive, “to be about to.” The use of μέλλειν seems redundant if it does not mean “about to.” Why not just declare, “there will be a resurrection” if timing isn’t a factor?

Gary DeMar’s argument here reflects a number of significant misunderstandings—both about how Greek works and how responsible exegesis is done.

First, his comment about Greek-English interlinears being a “problem” for me is rhetorical posturing, not argument. Interlinears are not translations in the proper sense. They are mechanical tools, often produced with rigid one-to-one word glosses that do not always reflect contextually appropriate meanings. Just because some interlinears render mellō as “about to” does not make that the correct interpretation in Acts 24:15. The real question is whether mellō means “about to” in this specific construction (mellein esesthai), in this particular verse, in this literary and theological context. Gary offers no engagement with those interpretive layers. He just asserts that “they must do something with mellō,” as if plugging in “about to” is the only faithful option. But interlinear glosses are not lexicons and they are certainly not exegesis.

Second, Gary tries to leverage the present active infinitive form mellein to argue that timing “must” be the point, saying it would be redundant otherwise. But this reflects a shallow view of how Greek infinitives function. Mellō plus an infinitive (especially a future infinitive, as here) often creates a construction that emphasizes certainty or destined fulfillment, not necessarily imminence. It is not redundant; it is intensifying.

His rhetorical question, “Why not just declare, ‘there will be a resurrection’ if timing isn’t a factor?” ignores the far more likely reason: emphasis on divine certainty. The form mellein esesthai is not a throwaway redundancy but a syntactic structure that gives weight to the statement. Paul is not simply affirming that a resurrection will happen. He is underscoring that this resurrection is definite and aligned with God’s established plan, one the Pharisees themselves hoped in.

This entire line of reasoning assumes the conclusion it needs to prove. Gary’s argument is circular. He believes mellō always means “about to,” so he assumes any use of it must mean that, and then declares it “redundant” if it does not. But that is not how language works. Again, for the hundredth time, words gain their meaning from usage in context, not from rigid and universal definitions that ignore grammar, idiom, and theological nuance.

Gary’s argument here does not stand up to serious scrutiny. He leans on shallow linguistic assumptions, fails to grapple with the actual syntactical structure of the verse, and appeals to interlinear glosses as if they settle the question. They do not.

At this point, I believe the case has been made clearly. The remainder of Gary’s response is little more than repetition, question-begging, and deflection—particularly through his continued fixation on Dr. Kenneth Gentry. I’m not going to speak for Dr. Gentry, nor do I need to. Gary’s complaints about Gentry’s supposed inconsistency, or his decision to reference extra-biblical sources like Josephus and Diognetus, are irrelevant to the actual argument at hand. What matters is how Acts 24:15 functions grammatically and theologically within the text itself.

Gary tries to pivot by appealing to Acts 11:28 and 27:10, insisting that since μέλλειν ἔσεσθαι is used in contexts of near-term fulfillment there, it must mean the same thing in Acts 24:15. But this is simply false logic. Similar grammatical constructions do not require identical meanings in unrelated contexts. Language does not work that way, and neither does biblical exegesis. Acts 11:28 describes an impending famine. Of course “about to” makes sense there, and the context confirms it. But Acts 24:15 is not about a temporal crisis. It is Paul’s theological declaration of shared hope with the Pharisees for a final resurrection. The syntax there emphasizes certainty, not proximity.

Moreover, he never addresses Acts 26:22–23, where μέλλω also appears in a passage that clearly refers to events already fulfilled. There, “about to” would stretch the word into absurdity, according to Gary’s reasoning, covering more than a thousand years of prophetic expectation. Most of the commentators he relies on don’t even attempt to deal with that verse, and the few that do offer nothing but assertion.

When Gary turns to Daniel 12:2 and tries to create a problem for me by accusing Dr. Gentry of inconsistency, he completely misses the mark. Whether or not Gentry sees Daniel 12 as referring to a corporate or bodily resurrection is irrelevant to my argument. I have not made Dr. Gentry’s comments on Daniel 12 foundational to my case. My focus has been on Acts 24:15—its grammar, syntax, and the shared expectation Paul affirms with the Pharisees. Gary doesn’t even know what I believe about Daniel 12. So whatever interpretive position Gentry holds there has no bearing on the case I’ve made. If Gary wants to debate Daniel 12 with Dr. Gentry, that’s fine—but it’s not the argument I’m making, and dragging it in only distracts from the real issue he has yet to address.

You will quickly notice a pattern when reading hyper-preterists like Gary DeMar or Michael Sullivan. This is how they typically operate: all they have to do is find a handful of commentators who disagree with your position, and they treat that as if it settles the matter. The logic seems to be that disagreement itself is a refutation—as if the mere existence of an opposing view somehow proves your view is wrong or inconsistent. But that is not how serious exegesis works. The presence of differing interpretations is a given in biblical studies; what matters is the argumentation, the handling of the grammar, the syntax, the context, and the theological coherence. Simply quoting someone who says “mellō means about to” proves nothing unless it is demonstrated from the text itself. Repeating opinions without exegetical support is not scholarship—it is rhetorical noise.

This is ultimately the problem with Gary DeMar’s approach and, more broadly, with the hyper-preterist project. It is not rooted in careful exegesis but in a methodology that mistakes repetition for proof and disagreement for disproof. Instead of engaging the actual syntax, literary structure, or theological implications of texts like Acts 24:15, DeMar leans heavily on surface-level glosses, cherry-picked commentators, and rhetorical assertions.

I have walked through his key claims, demonstrated where they fall short, and pointed out what he has ignored—sometimes repeatedly. He has not addressed the context of Paul’s statement in Acts 24:15, especially its shared connection to Pharisaic belief in a bodily resurrection. He has sidestepped the implications of Acts 26:22–23, and brushed past the massive theological weight of 1 Corinthians 15 and John 6. Instead, he has opted for selective quotes, misplaced burden shifting, and the kind of proof-texting he would not accept from his theological opponents.

At this point, there is not much more to say. If Gary wants to continue this discussion seriously, he will need to do more than recycle slogans and present lists of commentators. He will need to address the grammar, deal with the context, and engage the full biblical picture of the resurrection. Until then, I remain unconvinced—and not because I haven’t considered the argument, but because I have, in depth, and I have seen where it leads. It leads not to sound exegesis, but to confusion, inconsistency, and a distortion of the gospel hope Paul so clearly affirmed.

If we are going to say Scripture interprets Scripture, then let us mean it. Let us handle the Word with precision, humility, and care.

1. Berkhof, Louis. 1950. Principles of Biblical Interpretation: Sacred Hermeneutics. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House.