Chapter 2
Atonement Terminology — The Biblical Vocabulary for the Work of Christ

Introduction: Words That Carry the Weight of the Cross

Words matter. In everyday life, we know this instinctively. The difference between "I forgive you" and "I tolerate you" is enormous. The gap between "I love you" and "I'm fond of you" can make or break a relationship. Words carry weight. They shape how we understand the world and the people around us.

This is especially true when it comes to the Bible's teaching about the cross. The biblical writers did not use vague or careless language when they described what Jesus accomplished by His death. They chose their words with remarkable precision — words drawn from courtrooms, slave markets, temples, and battlefields. Each word opens a window into a different facet of what happened at Calvary. And when we take the time to examine these words carefully, in their original Hebrew and Greek, something extraordinary comes into focus: the Bible's own vocabulary for the cross is rich, multi-layered, and deeply interconnected — and it points unmistakably toward substitutionary, penal, sacrificial, and redemptive realities.

In this chapter, I want to walk us through the key biblical terms that form the theological vocabulary of the atonement. Think of this chapter as a kind of guided tour through the Bible's own dictionary of the cross. We will look at major Old Testament Hebrew terms and major New Testament Greek terms, examining what each one means in its original context, how it was used by the biblical authors, and what it tells us about the nature and significance of Christ's death. Along the way, we will engage with some important scholarly debates — particularly the famous argument over whether the Greek word hilastērion (ἱλαστήριον) means "propitiation" (the turning away of God's wrath) or merely "expiation" (the removal of sin's defilement). We will also look at two small but powerful Greek prepositions — anti (ἀντί) and hyper (ὑπέρ) — that pack an extraordinary amount of theological punch.

The thesis of this chapter is straightforward: the Bible uses a rich array of terms, images, and metaphors to describe what Christ accomplished on the cross, and careful attention to this vocabulary — in both Hebrew and Greek — reveals that substitutionary, penal, and judicial categories are woven into the very fabric of the biblical witness, alongside sacrificial, redemptive, reconciliatory, and victory language. The cross is not a one-dimensional event. It is a multi-faceted diamond, and the Bible gives us the language to see each sparkling face. But as we will discover, the penal and substitutionary facets are not peripheral additions to this diamond — they sit right at its heart.

Let us begin with the Old Testament.

Part One: The Old Testament Vocabulary of Atonement

The Old Testament provides the essential foundation for everything the New Testament says about the cross. Jesus and the apostles did not invent their atonement theology from scratch. They inherited a rich theological vocabulary from the Hebrew Scriptures — a vocabulary shaped by centuries of Israel's experience with sacrifice, covenant, redemption, and the holy character of God. To understand the cross, we must first understand the words that prepared Israel — and the world — to recognize what God was doing when His Son died on a Roman cross outside Jerusalem.

Kipper (כָּפַר) — To Atone, To Cover, To Make Atonement

If there is one Hebrew word that stands at the very center of Old Testament atonement theology, it is kipper (כָּפַר, pronounced roughly "kee-PAIR"). This verb, which appears in its piel stem (an intensive form) over ninety times in the Old Testament, is the word most commonly translated "to make atonement." It is the word that gives us the English term "atonement" itself — the idea of "at-one-ment," of bringing back together what sin has torn apart.¹

But what does kipper actually mean? Scholars have debated this for generations, and there are several proposals. Some have argued that the root meaning is "to cover" — as in covering over sin so that God no longer "sees" it. Others connect it to the Akkadian (ancient Babylonian) word kuppuru, which means "to wipe" or "to cleanse," suggesting that atonement involves the purging or cleansing of impurity. A third view connects it to the Arabic cognate meaning "to ransom," implying that atonement involves the payment of a price to secure release.²

David Allen helpfully notes that these meanings are not necessarily mutually exclusive. The biblical usage of kipper is broad enough to encompass several dimensions: covering sin, cleansing defilement, and ransoming the guilty. Allen observes that the word includes the notions of propitiation, expiation, forgiveness, and cleansing — all of which converge in the single act of atonement.³ What matters most is how the word functions in its biblical context. And in that context, kipper consistently describes a sacrificial act by which the barrier between a holy God and sinful people is removed, making restored relationship possible.

The most theologically significant use of kipper appears in Leviticus 17:11, one of the most important verses in the entire Old Testament for atonement theology:

"For the life of the flesh is in the blood, and I have given it for you on the altar to make atonement [kipper] for your souls, for it is the blood that makes atonement [kipper] by the life." (Leviticus 17:11 ESV)

Notice what this verse tells us. Atonement is accomplished through blood — through the giving of life. God Himself has "given" the blood for this purpose. And the blood "makes atonement" for human souls — that is, it deals with the problem of sin that separates people from their holy Creator. As we will see in Chapter 4's detailed examination of the Levitical sacrificial system, this verse grounds the entire theology of sacrifice in the substitutionary offering of life. The animal's life is given in place of the worshiper's life. That is the logic of kipper.⁴

I believe the range of meaning in kipper points us toward two realities that some scholars have tried to separate but that the Old Testament holds together: expiation (the removal of sin and its defilement) and propitiation (the satisfaction of God's justice so that His righteous opposition to sin is addressed). We will return to this distinction — and the important debate surrounding it — when we examine the Greek term hilastērion below.

Asham (אָשָׁם) — The Guilt Offering / Trespass Offering

The Hebrew word asham (אָשָׁם, pronounced "ah-SHAHM") refers to the guilt offering or trespass offering prescribed in Leviticus 5:14–6:7. While we will examine the sacrificial system in detail in Chapter 4, this term deserves special attention here because of its extraordinary significance for atonement theology.

The asham was offered for specific offenses — particularly sins involving violation of what was sacred or holy, or sins involving fraud or deception against a neighbor. What distinguishes the guilt offering from the sin offering (chattath) is its emphasis on reparation and restitution. The offender was not only required to offer a sacrifice but also to make restitution for the wrong committed, typically adding a fifth of the value as a penalty (Leviticus 5:16). This means the asham carries inherently penal and forensic overtones — it addresses not only defilement but also guilt, penalty, and the requirement of justice.

Why does this matter so much? Because in what is arguably the single most important Old Testament passage on the atonement — Isaiah 53 — the prophet uses precisely this term to describe the Servant's death:

"Yet it was the will of the LORD to crush him; he has put him to grief; when his soul makes an offering for guilt [asham]..." (Isaiah 53:10 ESV)

The Suffering Servant's death is identified as an asham — a guilt offering. As William Lane Craig observes, Isaiah's deliberate use of this sacrificial term means that the Servant's death is not merely unfortunate suffering or inspiring martyrdom. It is a sacrificial offering that deals with guilt and its judicial consequences.⁵ The penal dimension is embedded in the very term Isaiah chose. We will examine Isaiah 53 in full depth in Chapter 6, but even here, at the level of vocabulary, the substitutionary and penal character of the Servant's death is unmistakable.

Chattath (חַטָּאת) — Sin / Sin Offering

The Hebrew word chattath (חַטָּאת, pronounced "khat-TAHT") is one of those remarkable biblical words that carries a double meaning. It can refer to "sin" itself — the act of missing the mark, of falling short of God's standard — or it can refer to the "sin offering," the sacrifice prescribed to deal with sin. The fact that the same word serves for both the disease and the remedy is itself theologically suggestive. The sin offering is so closely identified with the sin it addresses that they share a name.⁶

The chattath sacrifice, described in Leviticus 4:1–5:13, was offered for sins committed unintentionally — sins of inadvertence or ignorance. The ritual involved the offerer laying hands on the animal's head (a crucial act we will discuss in Chapter 4), the killing of the animal, and specific blood manipulation rituals performed by the priest. The blood was applied to various parts of the sanctuary depending on the status of the person who had sinned — on the horns of the altar of incense for the high priest's sin, on the horns of the altar of burnt offering for the sin of an ordinary person.

This double meaning of chattath — both "sin" and "sin offering" — finds a stunning echo in the New Testament. In 2 Corinthians 5:21, Paul writes that God "made him who had no sin to be sin for us" (NIV). Many scholars believe Paul is drawing on the chattath concept here: Christ was made a sin offering — a chattath — on our behalf.⁷ The Old Testament vocabulary thus provides the conceptual framework for understanding what happened to Jesus on the cross.

Padah (פָּדָה) — To Ransom, To Redeem

The Hebrew verb padah (פָּדָה, pronounced "pah-DAH") means "to ransom" or "to redeem" — specifically, to secure the release of someone or something by paying a price. It is a commercial and legal term drawn from the world of transactions and exchanges. In the Old Testament, padah is used for the redemption of the firstborn (Exodus 13:13–15), the ransoming of a life that would otherwise be forfeit (Exodus 21:30), and — most significantly — God's redemption of Israel from slavery in Egypt.

When Moses tells the people, "The LORD has brought you out with a mighty hand and redeemed [padah] you from the house of slavery" (Deuteronomy 7:8 ESV), the word carries the force of rescue through the payment of a price. God did not simply wish Israel free. He acted decisively, at great cost, to liberate His people. The Passover lamb, whose blood marked the doorposts and whose death meant life for the firstborn of Israel, was the price of that redemption (see Exodus 12).

This concept of costly redemption flows directly into the New Testament's ransom language. When Jesus says He came "to give his life as a ransom for many" (Mark 10:45), He is drawing on the deep Old Testament tradition of padah — the idea that liberation from bondage requires the giving of a life.

Ga'al (גָּאַל) — To Redeem, To Act as Kinsman-Redeemer

Closely related to padah but carrying its own distinctive flavor is the verb ga'al (גָּאַל, pronounced "gah-AHL"), which means "to redeem" in the specific sense of acting as a kinsman-redeemer. In ancient Israel, the go'el (גֹּאֵל) — the kinsman-redeemer — was a close family member who had the right and the responsibility to step in when a relative was in trouble. If a family member had been forced to sell their land, the go'el could buy it back. If a relative had been sold into slavery because of debt, the go'el could pay the price to set them free. The most famous biblical example is Boaz, who acts as kinsman-redeemer for Ruth and Naomi in the book of Ruth.

What makes ga'al so theologically powerful is the personal, relational dimension it adds to redemption. The kinsman-redeemer was not a distant stranger. He was family. He redeemed because he was related to the one in need, and because he had both the ability and the willingness to pay the cost.

The Old Testament applies this language directly to God. In Isaiah 43:1, God declares, "Fear not, for I have redeemed [ga'al] you; I have called you by name, you are mine." God Himself is Israel's kinsman-redeemer — the One who is intimately related to His people and who acts to rescue them at His own cost. This is precisely the logic of the incarnation and the atonement. God the Son became one of us — took on our nature, became our "kinsman" — so that He could redeem us. As John Stott writes, the cross is nothing less than the self-substitution of God.⁸ He became our go'el.

Nasa (נָשָׂא) — To Bear, To Carry (Sin)

Few Old Testament words are more important for the doctrine of penal substitution than the verb nasa (נָשָׂא, pronounced "nah-SAH"), which means "to bear," "to carry," or "to lift up." On its own, it is a common, everyday word — you "bear" a load, you "carry" a burden. But when combined with words for sin or iniquity, it becomes one of the most theologically charged expressions in the Hebrew Bible.

The phrase "to bear sin" (nasa avon or nasa chet) appears repeatedly in the Old Testament, and its meaning is not ambiguous. When someone "bears sin" in the Old Testament, they are carrying the weight of its consequences — its guilt, its punishment, its liability before God. In Numbers 14:34, for example, God tells the Israelites they will "bear your iniquity" for forty years — meaning they will suffer the consequences of their sin. In Leviticus 5:1 and 5:17, to "bear iniquity" means to be held liable, to be accountable for the sin's penalty.

This background makes the language of Isaiah 53 explosive. The prophet declares of the Suffering Servant: "Surely he has borne [nasa] our griefs and carried our sorrows" (53:4), and later, "he bore [nasa] the sin of many" (53:12). David Allen notes that the language here is unmistakably substitutionary: the Servant carries what belongs to others.⁹ And in the Old Testament context, "bearing sin" consistently means bearing its consequences and punishment — not merely sympathizing with the sinner or suffering alongside them. The Servant takes upon Himself what rightly belongs to others: their guilt, their liability, their penalty.

As we will see in Chapter 6, attempts to soften this language — to argue that the Servant merely suffers because of others' sins rather than as a substitute bearing their sins — cannot withstand careful examination of how nasa + "sin" functions throughout the Old Testament. The consistent pattern is clear: to bear sin is to bear its penal consequences.

Shalach (שָׁלַח) — To Send Away

The verb shalach (שָׁלַח, pronounced "shah-LAKH") means "to send" or "to send away." Its atonement significance appears in one of the most dramatic and vivid rituals in all of Scripture: the scapegoat ceremony on the Day of Atonement (Leviticus 16). On that day, two goats were selected. One was sacrificed as a sin offering. Over the head of the other — the live goat — the high priest confessed all the iniquities of the people, symbolically placing their sins on the animal. Then the goat was "sent away" (shalach) into the wilderness, carrying the sins of the people far from the camp, never to return.

This sending away of the sin-bearing goat provides a powerful visual image of what atonement accomplishes: sin is not merely covered or addressed in the abstract. It is removed. It is carried away. It is taken from the people and placed where it can no longer affect them. As we will explore in Chapter 5's detailed treatment of Yom Kippur, the two goats together — the sacrificed goat and the scapegoat — represent complementary aspects of one atonement: expiation through blood (the sacrificed goat) and the complete removal of sin (the scapegoat sent away). Both dimensions are necessary for a complete picture of what Christ accomplished.

Tsedaqah (צְדָקָה) — Righteousness, Justice

The Hebrew word tsedaqah (צְדָקָה, pronounced "tseh-dah-KAH") means "righteousness" or "justice." It describes conformity to a standard — specifically, to God's own character as the standard of all that is right and good. In the Old Testament, tsedaqah is used of both God's character and human conduct. God is righteous — He always acts in accord with His own perfect nature. And He calls His people to live righteously — to act justly, to treat others fairly, to maintain the moral order He has established.

Why does this term belong in a discussion of atonement vocabulary? Because tsedaqah sets up the fundamental problem that the atonement resolves. God is righteous. He cannot simply overlook sin or pretend it does not exist, because that would be a violation of His own righteous character. As the prophet Habakkuk declares, God is "of purer eyes than to see evil and cannot look at wrong" (Habakkuk 1:13 ESV). Yet God also loves sinners and desires their restoration. How can a perfectly righteous God forgive the guilty without compromising His righteousness?

This tension — between God's tsedaqah and His mercy — is precisely what the atonement resolves. And it is no accident that when Paul articulates the fullest explanation of the cross's significance in Romans 3:21–26, he uses the Greek equivalent of tsedaqah (dikaiosynē, δικαιοσύνη) repeatedly. The cross, Paul argues, demonstrates that God is both "just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus" (Romans 3:26). God's righteousness is not set aside at the cross — it is satisfied. We will examine this passage in full depth in Chapter 8.

Part Two: The New Testament Vocabulary of Atonement

When we turn from the Old Testament to the New, we find the apostles and the early church drawing on the rich Hebrew foundation we have just surveyed — but now interpreting it through the lens of the cross and resurrection. The New Testament authors were steeped in the language and theology of the Old Testament, and they used specific Greek terms — some of them drawn from the Greek translation of the Old Testament (the Septuagint, or LXX) and others from the wider Greco-Roman world — to explain what God had accomplished in Christ. Each term opens a different window onto the cross. Together, they give us a comprehensive theological vocabulary that is as precise as it is beautiful.

Hilastērion / Hilasmos (ἱλαστήριον / ἱλασμός) — Propitiation or Expiation?

We come now to one of the most debated terms in all of atonement theology — and one of the most important. The Greek words hilastērion (ἱλαστήριον, pronounced "hill-ass-TAY-ree-on") and hilasmos (ἱλασμός, pronounced "hill-az-MOSS") belong to a family of related Greek words (the hilask- word group) that are used in the New Testament to describe what Christ's death accomplished in relation to God, sin, and human guilt. These terms appear in three key passages:

"...whom God put forward as a propitiation [hilastērion] by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God's righteousness..." (Romans 3:25 ESV)

"...He is the propitiation [hilasmos] for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world." (1 John 2:2 ESV)

"In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation [hilasmos] for our sins." (1 John 4:10 ESV)

The question that has generated an enormous scholarly debate is this: Do these words mean "propitiation" or "expiation"? The difference is significant. Propitiation means the turning away of God's wrath — the satisfying of God's justice so that His holy opposition to sin is addressed. The focus is Godward: something happens in relation to God that removes the obstacle His righteous wrath poses to our salvation. Expiation, on the other hand, means the cleansing or removal of sin — the wiping away of defilement. The focus is sinward: something happens to sin itself (it is covered, cleansed, removed) rather than something happening in relation to God's disposition.

In 1931, the influential British scholar C. H. Dodd argued in a landmark essay that the hilask- word group in the Septuagint (the Greek Old Testament) and in the New Testament should be translated as "expiation," not "propitiation." Dodd contended that the pagan Greek idea of appeasing an angry deity had been purged from the biblical usage of these terms. In the Bible, Dodd argued, God is not "propitiated" (as if He were a wrathful deity who needed to be placated); rather, sin is "expiated" (cleansed or removed). Dodd's argument was enormously influential. The Revised Standard Version of 1946, following Dodd, translated hilasmos as "expiation" rather than "propitiation" in all three passages.¹⁰

But Dodd's argument did not go unchallenged. The most important response came from the great Australian scholar Leon Morris, whose 1955 book The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross systematically dismantled Dodd's case. Morris demonstrated several crucial points.¹¹

First, Morris showed that in the Septuagint — the Greek translation of the Old Testament that the New Testament authors used — the hilask- words frequently appear in contexts where God's wrath or anger is explicitly mentioned. The translators of the Septuagint used these words precisely to describe the turning away of divine judgment. This was not pagan contamination. It was a faithful rendering of the Hebrew theology of atonement, which consistently involves addressing God's holy response to sin.

Second, Morris demonstrated that in extra-biblical Greek literature — that is, in the wider Greek-speaking world — the hilask- word group consistently carried propitiatory connotations. The basic meaning was "to make favorable" or "to appease." While the biblical usage certainly transforms and purifies this concept (removing the crude pagan notion of bribing a capricious deity), it does not strip the word of its God-directed dimension.

Third — and this is perhaps the decisive argument — Morris pointed to the specific context of Romans 3:25, where Paul uses hilastērion. Paul's entire argument in Romans 1:18–3:20 has been building the case that God's wrath (Greek: orgē, ὀργή) stands revealed against human sinfulness. All humanity is under divine judgment. The world is guilty before God. Then, in Romans 3:21–26, Paul explains how God's righteousness is revealed apart from the law — through faith in Jesus Christ, whom God set forth as a hilastērion by His blood. In this context, the term must be addressing the problem Paul has just spent three chapters describing: God's righteous wrath against sin. It makes no sense to say that hilastērion means only "expiation" when the entire preceding argument has been about propitiation — about how God deals with the wrath that sin provokes. As Stott puts it, the words "wrath" and "propitiation" belong together; you cannot have a serious doctrine of wrath without a corresponding doctrine of propitiation.¹²

I should add that there is a further dimension to the hilastērion debate. In the Septuagint, hilastērion is used to translate the Hebrew word kapporet (כַּפֹּרֶת) — the "mercy seat," the golden lid on the Ark of the Covenant where the high priest sprinkled sacrificial blood on the Day of Atonement (see Leviticus 16:14–15; the only other New Testament use of hilastērion is Hebrews 9:5, where it clearly means "mercy seat"). Some scholars have argued that when Paul calls Christ a hilastērion in Romans 3:25, he is saying that Jesus Himself is the new "mercy seat" — the place where God and sinful humanity meet, where blood is applied, and where atonement is accomplished. If this is correct, it is a breathtaking image: Christ on the cross is the meeting point of divine justice and divine mercy, the place where God's righteousness is displayed and human sin is dealt with simultaneously.¹³ We will examine this passage in full exegetical detail in Chapter 8.

Where does this leave us? I am persuaded, with Morris and Stott, that the hilask- word group carries genuine propitiatory meaning in the New Testament. Christ's death does address God's wrath against sin — not by placating an unwilling deity, but because the God who is love is also the God who is just, and His justice must be satisfied if sinners are to be forgiven. At the same time, propitiation includes expiation: when God's justice is satisfied, sin's defilement is simultaneously cleansed and removed. The two are not in competition. They are complementary dimensions of one glorious atoning act. Allen captures this well when he notes that the concept of propitiation in Scripture always includes both the satisfaction of God's justice and the removal of sin and guilt — and both are prompted by God's own love, mercy, and grace.¹⁴

Katallagē (καταλλαγή) — Reconciliation

The Greek noun katallagē (καταλλαγή, pronounced "kah-tah-lah-GAY") and its related verb forms (katallassō, καταλλάσσω, and apokatallassō, ἀποκαταλλάσσω) express one of the warmest and most relational dimensions of the atonement: reconciliation. To reconcile means to restore a broken relationship, to turn enmity into friendship, to bring together those who have been estranged.

Paul uses this language in two of his most important atonement passages. In Romans 5:10–11, he writes: "For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation." And in 2 Corinthians 5:18–20, he declares: "All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them."

Several things stand out about this language. First, the initiative lies entirely with God. It is God who reconciles. We do not reconcile ourselves to God; God reconciles us to Himself. Second, reconciliation has both an objective and a subjective dimension. Objectively, the death of Christ has dealt with the barrier of sin, so that God can extend forgiveness without compromising His justice. Allen emphasizes that this objective reconciliation applies to the whole world — Christ's death has removed the legal barriers and rendered every person "savable."¹⁵ Subjectively, individuals are reconciled to God when they respond in faith, accepting the reconciliation God has accomplished (2 Corinthians 5:20).

Third, notice how Paul links reconciliation to the non-imputation of trespasses: "not counting their trespasses against them" (2 Corinthians 5:19). This is forensic, judicial language. Reconciliation is not merely an emotional change in attitude; it involves a legal reality — the decision not to hold sins against the offender. And the basis for this decision is the cross: "For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God" (2 Corinthians 5:21). Reconciliation is grounded in substitution. We will explore these texts fully in Chapter 9.

Apolytrōsis (ἀπολύτρωσις) — Redemption

The Greek word apolytrōsis (ἀπολύτρωσις, pronounced "ah-po-LOO-tro-sis") means "redemption" or "release effected by payment of a ransom." It belongs to a family of related Greek words that includes lytron (λύτρον, "ransom"), antilytron (ἀντίλυτρον, "ransom paid in exchange"), lutroō (λυτρόω, "to redeem/ransom"), and agorazō (ἀγοράζω, "to purchase in the marketplace"). Together, these words paint a vivid picture drawn from two worlds: the slave market and the prisoner-of-war camp. To redeem someone is to pay the price required to set them free.

Allen identifies four major Greek terms used in the New Testament for the concept of redemption.¹⁶ Agorazō is a commercial term originally denoting a purchase in the marketplace. Paul uses it when he tells the Corinthians, "You were bought with a price" (1 Corinthians 6:20; 7:23). Exagorazō adds a prefix that intensifies the meaning: to purchase out of the marketplace, to buy and set free. Paul uses it in Galatians 3:13: "Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us." Lutroō connotes liberation through ransom payment and appears in 1 Peter 1:18–19: "You were ransomed ... not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ." And apolytrōsis itself appears in key texts like Romans 3:24 ("justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus"), Ephesians 1:7 ("In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses"), and Colossians 1:14.

What all these terms share is the idea of costly liberation. Freedom is not free. A price must be paid. And the New Testament is emphatic about what that price is: "the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot" (1 Peter 1:19). The redemption language of the New Testament thus reinforces both the substitutionary and the sacrificial dimensions of the atonement. Christ gives His life — His blood — as the price that secures our freedom from the bondage of sin, death, and condemnation.

Lytron / Antilytron (λύτρον / ἀντίλυτρον) — Ransom

Two specific ransom terms deserve individual attention because of the passages in which they appear. The word lytron (λύτρον, "ransom") occurs in Mark 10:45, one of the most important sayings of Jesus about His own death: "For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom [lytron] for many." We will examine this verse in depth in Chapter 7, but here we note that Jesus Himself describes His death as a ransom — a price paid to secure the liberation of others.

The related term antilytron (ἀντίλυτρον, "ransom given in exchange") appears in 1 Timothy 2:5–6: "For there is one God, and there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as a ransom [antilytron] for all." The anti- prefix is crucial: it means "in exchange for" or "in the place of." Christ gave Himself as a ransom in exchange for all people. The substitutionary force of this language is hard to miss.¹⁷

Anti (ἀντί) and Hyper (ὑπέρ) — Two Prepositions That Changed the World

We come now to two small Greek words — mere prepositions — that carry enormous theological weight. Understanding how the New Testament uses anti (ἀντί) and hyper (ὑπέρ) is essential for grasping the substitutionary nature of the atonement.

The preposition anti (ἀντί, pronounced "ahn-TEE") means "in the place of," "instead of," or "in exchange for." It is the more explicitly substitutionary of the two prepositions. When a secretary signs a letter "for" the boss — meaning in the boss's place, as the boss's substitute — that is the force of anti. In the New Testament, anti appears in the ransom sayings: Jesus gave His life "as a ransom instead of [anti] many" (Mark 10:45). The anti in antilytron (1 Timothy 2:6) carries the same substitutionary force.

The preposition hyper (ὑπέρ, pronounced "hoo-PAIR") has a broader range of meaning. Its basic sense is "on behalf of" or "for the benefit of." Most of the New Testament statements about Christ dying "for us" use hyper: "While we were still sinners, Christ died for [hyper] us" (Romans 5:8); "one has died for [hyper] all" (2 Corinthians 5:14); "Christ died for [hyper] our sins" (1 Corinthians 15:3).

Now, some scholars have argued that since hyper means "on behalf of" rather than "in the place of," the New Testament's predominant preposition for Christ's death does not teach substitution — only that Christ's death benefits us in some unspecified way. But this argument fails for an important reason that Stott highlights: the two prepositions do not always adhere strictly to their dictionary definitions. In actual usage, hyper frequently carries the substitutionary sense of anti.¹⁸

Consider Paul's statement in Philemon 13, where he says he wanted to keep Onesimus in Rome to serve him "on behalf of" (hyper) Philemon — meaning in Philemon's place, as his substitute. Or consider 2 Corinthians 5:20, where Paul says he and his companions are "ambassadors for [hyper] Christ" — meaning they stand in Christ's place, representing Him. In these and many other cases, hyper clearly means "in the place of," "as a substitute for."

And when we look at the most explicit statements of what happened to Christ on the cross, the substitutionary force of hyper becomes overwhelming. "God made him who had no sin to be sin for [hyper] us" (2 Corinthians 5:21) — the sinless one was made sin in our place, bearing what we deserved. "Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for [hyper] us" (Galatians 3:13) — the curse that lay on us was transferred to Him, and He bore it instead of us. As Stott powerfully argues, in both these verses, what happened to Christ ("made sin," "becoming a curse") was what rightly belonged to us. The language is not merely beneficiary ("He did something nice for us") but genuinely substitutionary ("He took our place").¹⁹

Craig likewise argues that the prepositions used for Christ's death, when read in their full biblical context, support a robustly substitutionary reading. The combination of anti in the ransom sayings and hyper in the broader Pauline statements creates a consistent picture: Christ died in our place, on our behalf, as our substitute.²⁰

Dikē / Dikaiosynē (δίκη / δικαιοσύνη) — Justice / Righteousness

The Greek words dikē (δίκη, "justice" or "punishment"), dikaiosynē (δικαιοσύνη, "righteousness" or "justice"), and their related forms (dikaios, δίκαιος, "righteous/just"; dikaioō, δικαιόω, "to justify/declare righteous") form a massive and important word family in the New Testament. These are the Greek equivalents of the Hebrew tsedaqah we discussed earlier, and they are absolutely central to Paul's understanding of the atonement.

In Romans 3:21–26, Paul uses dikaiosynē and its cognates with stunning density. God's "righteousness" (dikaiosynē) has been revealed apart from the law (v. 21). This righteousness comes through faith in Jesus Christ (v. 22). Sinners are "justified" (dikaioō) freely by God's grace through the redemption in Christ Jesus (v. 24). God set forth Christ as a hilastērion to demonstrate His "righteousness" (dikaiosynē) (v. 25). And the purpose was to show that God is both "just" (dikaios) and the "justifier" (dikaioō) of the one who has faith in Jesus (v. 26).

The repetition is deliberate. Paul is making the case that the cross is fundamentally about the demonstration and vindication of God's justice. The problem that the atonement solves is not merely human guilt (though it certainly addresses that); it is the question of how a righteous God can forgive the guilty without ceasing to be righteous. As we will see in Chapter 8, this is the heart of Paul's argument in Romans 3, and it makes sense only within a penal substitutionary framework: God demonstrates His justice by dealing with sin's penalty in Christ, so that He can be both just (sin is punished) and the justifier (sinners are declared righteous) at the same time.

Dikaiōsis (δικαίωσις) — Justification

Closely related is the noun dikaiōsis (δικαίωσις, pronounced "dih-kai-OH-sis"), meaning "justification" — the act of declaring someone righteous. This is a forensic or courtroom term. It does not mean "to make someone morally righteous" (that would be sanctification) but rather "to declare someone to be in right standing." It is a legal verdict: "Not guilty." Or more precisely, "Righteous in my sight."

Paul uses this term in Romans 4:25, where he says that Jesus "was delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification [dikaiōsis]." Christ's death deals with the guilt of our sins; His resurrection vindicates the verdict of righteousness. Justification is the immediate fruit of penal substitutionary atonement: because Christ bore the penalty of our sin, God can declare believing sinners righteous without violating His own justice. We will examine this connection more fully in Chapter 36.

Thusia (θυσία) — Sacrifice

The Greek word thusia (θυσία, pronounced "thoo-SEE-ah") means "sacrifice" — a general term covering various kinds of offerings made to God. The New Testament writers use this word extensively to describe Christ's death, drawing the direct line between the Old Testament sacrificial system and its fulfillment in Christ.

The Epistle to the Hebrews is especially rich in its use of thusia. Christ "offered himself" (Hebrews 7:27). He appeared "to put away sin by the sacrifice [thusia] of himself" (Hebrews 9:26). "We have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all" (Hebrews 10:10). Ephesians 5:2 likewise describes Christ's death as a sacrificial offering: "Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice [thusia] to God."

The sacrificial language of the New Testament presupposes the entire theology of Old Testament sacrifice — substitution, blood, the bearing of sin, the offering to God — and declares that all of it finds its ultimate fulfillment in the one sacrifice of Christ. As we will see in Chapter 10's treatment of Hebrews, the author of Hebrews argues that Christ's sacrifice is superior to the Old Testament sacrifices precisely because it accomplishes what they could only foreshadow: the permanent, once-for-all removal of sin through the voluntary self-offering of the Son of God.

Haima (αἷμα) — Blood

The Greek word haima (αἷμα, pronounced "HI-mah") means "blood," and it is one of the most pervasive terms in the New Testament's atonement vocabulary. References to the "blood" of Christ appear throughout the New Testament: "justified by his blood" (Romans 5:9); "redemption through his blood" (Ephesians 1:7); "made near by the blood of Christ" (Ephesians 2:13); "the blood of his cross" (Colossians 1:20); "the precious blood of Christ" (1 Peter 1:19); "the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin" (1 John 1:7).

What does "blood" signify? There has been a scholarly debate about this as well. Some have argued that "blood" symbolizes life released — that is, the life of the victim set free to bring new life to others. On this reading, the emphasis falls on the life that Christ gives, not on His death. But as Leon Morris argued persuasively, this interpretation gets it backwards. In the sacrificial context, blood represents life given up in death — life poured out, life laid down.²¹ The consistent Old Testament background is Leviticus 17:11: "It is the blood that makes atonement by the life" — meaning that the life is given (through the shedding of blood in sacrificial death) to accomplish atonement. Fleming Rutledge likewise insists that the blood of Christ refers to His violent, sacrificial death — the pouring out of His life as the cost of our redemption.²²

When the New Testament speaks of the "blood of Christ," then, it is speaking of His death as a sacrificial offering — a death that has atoning power because it is the death of the sinless Son of God, offered voluntarily as the price of human redemption.

Stauros (σταυρός) — Cross

The Greek word stauros (σταυρός, pronounced "stow-ROSS") means "cross" — specifically, the wooden instrument of execution used by the Romans. In Paul's letters, the "cross" becomes shorthand for the entire saving significance of Christ's death. "The word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God" (1 Corinthians 1:18). "Far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ" (Galatians 6:14).

It is worth pausing to appreciate how shocking this would have been to a first-century audience. The cross was not a religious symbol in the ancient world. It was an instrument of shame, torture, and public humiliation — reserved for the lowest criminals and slaves. For Paul to "boast" in the cross would have sounded to Greco-Roman ears roughly the way "I boast in the electric chair" would sound to modern ears. The offense of the cross — its scandal, its apparent foolishness — was not softened or minimized by the early Christians. They embraced it, because they understood that God had taken the most shameful instrument of human cruelty and turned it into the greatest display of divine love and the ultimate means of salvation.

Pherō (φέρω) — To Bear, To Carry

The Greek verb pherō (φέρω, pronounced "FAIR-oh") means "to bear" or "to carry," and it functions as the New Testament equivalent of the Hebrew nasa we discussed earlier. In 1 Peter 2:24, Peter writes: "He himself bore [anapherō, ἀναφέρω — a compound of pherō] our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness." And in Hebrews 9:28: "Christ, having been offered once to bear [anapherō] the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him."

Both passages echo Isaiah 53 directly. Peter's statement in 1 Peter 2:24 draws explicitly on Isaiah 53:4 and 53:12 — "he bore our sins." The Hebrews passage likewise alludes to the Servant who "bore the sin of many" (Isaiah 53:12). As we discussed with the Hebrew nasa, the language of "bearing sin" carries inherently penal connotations. To bear sin is to carry its weight, its liability, its consequences. The New Testament authors use this sin-bearing language to make an unmistakable claim: Christ took upon Himself what belonged to us — our sins, our guilt, our penalty — and bore them in His own body on the cross.

Part Three: Engaging the Counterarguments

Before we draw our conclusions, we should engage fairly with those who read this same vocabulary differently. Not everyone agrees that the biblical terminology supports penal substitutionary atonement. Several important objections have been raised, and they deserve careful consideration.

Objection 1: "The Sacrificial System Was About Purification, Not Penalty"

Some scholars argue that the Old Testament sacrificial system was primarily about ritual purification — cleansing sacred space, restoring ritual purity, dealing with contamination — rather than about punishment for sin. On this reading, the sacrifices did not involve a transfer of sin or guilt to the animal, and the animal's death was not a penalty borne in the sinner's place. The focus was on the blood's cleansing power, not on substitutionary punishment.

Vee Chandler articulates a version of this objection in her treatment of sacrifice. She argues that the Old Testament sacrificial language has been misread through the lens of penal substitution, and that the original context points more toward purification and restoration than toward penalty and punishment.²³

I take this objection seriously, and I think it captures a genuine dimension of the sacrificial system. The sacrifices certainly did involve purification and cleansing — the blood rituals of the sin offering, for example, were clearly concerned with cleansing the sanctuary from the defilement of sin. But I do not think the purification dimension excludes the penal dimension. Both are present.

Consider Leviticus 17:11 once more: "It is the blood that makes atonement by the life." The blood atones because life has been given — the animal has died. The death is not incidental. It is central. The life must be forfeited for atonement to occur. And when we look at the guilt offering (asham) in Leviticus 5–6, we find explicit language of penalty: the offerer must make restitution plus a fifth of the value as a penalty. The guilt offering addresses not only contamination but also liability and judicial consequences. The same is true of the scapegoat ritual on the Day of Atonement, where the sins of the people are placed on the goat's head and carried away — this is not purification language but sin-bearing and sin-removal language (as we will examine in Chapter 5).

The strongest evidence, however, comes from Isaiah 53:10, where the Servant's death is explicitly called an asham — a guilt offering. Isaiah takes the sacrificial vocabulary and applies it to a person who dies bearing the sins of others, under the judicial language of "chastisement" (musar) and being "pierced for our transgressions." If the sacrificial system had no penal dimension, Isaiah's use of it to describe penal substitution would make no sense. The prophet clearly understood the sacrificial system as providing the theological categories for understanding how one could bear the penalty that belonged to others. I find it difficult to avoid the conclusion that both purification and penalty are genuine dimensions of the biblical sacrificial system, and attempts to eliminate the penal dimension do not do justice to the full range of evidence.

Objection 2: "Hilastērion Means Expiation, Not Propitiation — Dodd Was Right"

We addressed this objection in our discussion above, but let me add a few further points. Some scholars continue to follow Dodd in arguing that the notion of propitiation — the idea that God's wrath needs to be "turned away" or "satisfied" — is a sub-Christian concept borrowed from paganism. They point out that in pagan religion, humans offered sacrifices to appease angry gods, and they argue that the biblical God is fundamentally different: He is a God of love, not anger, and His response to sin is healing, not punishment.

There is an important half-truth here. It is absolutely correct that the biblical concept of propitiation is fundamentally different from the pagan version. In pagan religion, humans take the initiative to placate angry, capricious deities. In biblical theology, God Himself takes the initiative: "Not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins" (1 John 4:10). The direction is reversed. It is God who provides the sacrifice. It is God who acts in love to deal with the problem of sin. There is nothing arbitrary or capricious about it.²⁴

But the solution to pagan distortions is not to eliminate the concept of propitiation altogether. The solution is to understand it rightly. God's wrath is not irrational rage or petty vindictiveness. It is the settled, just, holy response of God's perfect nature to everything that destroys what He loves. Wrath is the obverse of love — because God loves what is good, He opposes what is evil. And because His opposition to evil is real, it must be addressed if sinners are to be reconciled to Him. That addressing of God's just opposition to sin is precisely what propitiation means. To strip it from the biblical vocabulary is not to purify Christianity of paganism. It is to gut the gospel of its deepest logic.

Objection 3: "Hyper Means 'On Behalf Of,' Not 'In the Place Of' — Substitution Is Read Into the Text"

As we discussed above, some scholars argue that the dominant New Testament preposition for Christ's death — hyper ("on behalf of") — does not imply substitution. It merely says that Christ's death benefits us, not that He took our place. On this view, the substitutionary interpretation is a theological imposition rather than an exegetical conclusion.

But this objection fails to account for the contexts in which hyper is used. When Paul says that God "made him to be sin for [hyper] us" (2 Corinthians 5:21), the action described — Christ being "made sin" — is inherently substitutionary. The sinless one bears what we deserve. There is no way to read this as merely "Christ did something beneficial for us." He took our sin upon Himself. Similarly, when Paul says Christ "became a curse for [hyper] us" (Galatians 3:13), the curse that rested on us was transferred to Him. The hyper here is clearly substitutionary in force, even though it is not the preposition anti.²⁵

Furthermore, the New Testament does use anti in the ransom sayings (Mark 10:45; 1 Timothy 2:6), making substitution explicit. The combination of anti in the ransom passages and hyper in the broader death-for-us passages creates a unified picture. Christ's death is "for us" in the fullest sense: on our behalf, for our benefit, and in our place. As Craig rightly notes, the prepositional evidence, when read in full context, supports a robustly substitutionary understanding of Christ's death.²⁶

Part Four: The Vocabulary as a Whole — A Multi-Faceted Atonement with Penal Substitution at the Center

Now we are in a position to step back and see the forest, not just the trees. What does the Bible's atonement vocabulary, taken as a whole, tell us about what Christ accomplished on the cross?

The first thing it tells us is that the atonement is multi-faceted. The Bible does not use just one image or metaphor for the cross. It uses many — drawn from the courtroom (justification, judgment), the temple (sacrifice, blood, propitiation), the slave market (redemption, ransom, purchase), the battlefield (victory, conquest), and the world of personal relationships (reconciliation, peace, adoption). Each image illuminates a different dimension of what happened at Calvary. No single image captures the whole. As Stott writes, the cross generates a constellation of images because its reality is too vast and too rich for any single metaphor to contain.²⁷

But the second thing the vocabulary tells us — and this is crucial — is that substitutionary, penal, and judicial categories are not one option among many. They are woven into the very fabric of the biblical witness. Consider what we have found:

Kipper grounds atonement in sacrificial blood — life given in death. Nasa and pherō describe the bearing of sin and its consequences by another. Asham identifies the Servant's death as a guilt offering — a sacrifice that addresses penalty and reparation. Hilastērion/hilasmos teaches that Christ's death satisfies divine justice (propitiation) while cleansing sin (expiation). Anti and hyper frame Christ's death as substitutionary — in our place and on our behalf. Dikaiosynē and dikaiōsis frame the cross as the demonstration and vindication of God's justice and the basis for the justification of sinners. Apolytrōsis and lytron describe redemption through the payment of a ransom price. Katallagē describes the reconciliation achieved when the barrier of sin is removed through Christ's substitutionary death.

When all these threads are woven together, a clear picture emerges. The atonement is indeed multi-faceted — there are genuine sacrificial, redemptive, reconciliatory, and victory dimensions. But at the heart of this multi-faceted reality, holding everything together and making everything else possible, stands the truth that Christ died as our substitute, bearing the penalty of our sin, satisfying divine justice, so that God can be both just and the justifier of all who have faith in Jesus.

I want to be careful here. Saying that penal substitution is "at the center" does not mean the other dimensions are unimportant. Christus Victor — Christ's triumph over the powers of sin, death, and evil — is a genuine and glorious facet of the atonement (as we will explore in Chapter 21). Reconciliation is a real and precious gift of the cross. Moral influence — the transforming power of beholding the love of God displayed at Calvary — is a genuine effect of the atonement. Recapitulation — Christ undoing what Adam did, succeeding where humanity failed — captures something true and profound (as we will see in Chapter 23).

But none of these other dimensions makes full sense without the penal substitutionary core. Why does Christ triumph over the powers? Because He has dealt with the legal basis of their claim against us — the guilt and condemnation of sin. How is reconciliation accomplished? Through the removal of the barrier of sin by the substitutionary death of Christ. What gives the cross its moral power? The fact that the love displayed there is not cheap sentimentality but a love that actually deals with the problem — that absorbs the cost, that bears the penalty, that satisfies justice. As we will argue throughout this book, the various atonement models are not competitors to be ranked against each other. They are complementary facets of a single, multi-dimensional reality. But penal substitution provides the central mechanism — the theological engine — that drives all the others.

Conclusion

We have taken a long and careful journey through the Bible's own vocabulary for the cross. We have examined Old Testament terms rooted in centuries of Israel's sacrificial worship and covenant life. We have traced their echoes and fulfillments in the New Testament's Greek terminology. We have engaged with scholarly debates about propitiation and expiation, about the force of prepositions, about the nature of the sacrificial system. And throughout, we have found the same patterns emerging again and again: substitution, penalty-bearing, the satisfaction of divine justice, costly redemption, reconciliation through sacrifice.

These are not theological categories that later generations imposed on the Bible. They are the Bible's own categories — its own words, its own images, its own grammar. The biblical writers chose these words with care, and when we attend to them closely, they point us unmistakably toward the reality that stands at the heart of the Christian gospel: Jesus Christ, the Son of God, died in our place, bearing our sin, satisfying God's justice, and opening the way for sinners to be forgiven, reconciled, redeemed, and made new.

This vocabulary is the foundation on which the rest of this book will build. In Chapter 3, we will examine the character of God — His love, justice, and holiness — and see how these attributes converge at the cross. In Chapters 4–6, we will return to the Old Testament to examine the sacrificial system, the Day of Atonement, and Isaiah 53 in full exegetical depth. And in Chapters 7–12, we will work through the New Testament's major atonement passages, letting the vocabulary we have surveyed here guide our reading.

But before we move on, let me leave us with one final thought. The richness of the Bible's atonement vocabulary is not just an academic curiosity. It is an invitation to worship. Every term we have studied points to the same breathtaking reality: God loved us so much that He did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all. The cross was not an accident. It was not a tragedy. It was the greatest act of love in the history of the universe — planned before the foundation of the world, accomplished in the fullness of time, and available to every human being who will receive it by faith. That is what these words are about. And that is why they matter.

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