When the other three Gospels — Matthew, Mark, and Luke — reach for a word to describe what Jesus did, they most often pick δύναμις (dynamis): “mighty work,” “powerful deed,” “act of power.” It’s the word that gives us dynamite. A dynamis is a display of force, something impressive in itself — power breaking into the world, visible and astonishing. The Synoptic Gospels are full of these dynameis: the deeds of power that mark Jesus out as someone through whom God’s might is at work.

It’s a perfectly natural word for a miracle. A blind man sees, a storm goes still, the dead rise — these are acts of power, and dynamis names exactly that quality, the sheer force of the thing. To call a miracle a dynamis is to point at what it is: a mighty work, an irruption of strength into the ordinary run of the world.

What’s striking is the word John almost never uses. Where the Synoptics say dynamis, John reaches for a different word entirely — sēmeion, “sign.” And the swap is not cosmetic, because the two words look at a miracle from opposite ends. A dynamis is impressive for its own sake; it announces power. A sēmeion points past itself to something it means. One says look how strong; the other says look where this is pointing. The same event — water into wine, a healing, Lazarus called from the tomb — can be described either way, and the choice of word tells you what the writer wants you to notice.

That contrast is worth holding precisely because it sets John apart. The Synoptic dynameis invite you to marvel at the power on display. John’s sēmeia invite you to look through the miracle to what it signifies. Neither is wrong; they’re two true angles on the same deeds. But they aim your attention differently — and John’s aim, he tells you near the end, was that his selected signs would point you toward belief.

So when you meet dynamis in Matthew, Mark, or Luke, hear what it foregrounds: power, might, the deed itself as a wonder. And let it throw John’s choice into relief. Where the Synoptics most often show you Jesus’ acts as displays of power, John reframes the very same kind of acts as arrows — and that single shift in vocabulary is a window into how differently the Fourth Gospel wants you to watch.