Lucas Dorminy, Author at Kuyperian Commentary

On February 23, 2023 By Lucas Dorminy In Church, Worship Like

Embodying Lent

“If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life maimed, rather than having two hands, to go to hell…” – Mark 9:43a

The Lenten season is all about repentance. During this season we look inward to examine our lives and root out sin no matter the cost. Our Lenten practices tend to be personal in nature. We read the Scriptures, pray, and fast in the closet. While this is all good practice, Lent can often be a time of too much ‘me’. What are our prayers, fasting, and repentance for? Of course, they are offered up as spiritual sacrifices to God from whom we receive the forgiveness of sins. But our prayers, fasting, and repentance are also for one another.

I remember preaching on Mark 9:42-50 about two years ago. As I prepared to preach on this well-known passage, I had sermons rolling through my head that I had heard throughout the years. They all focused on the personal nature of repentance and avoiding temptation. “If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off! Do whatever it takes! If your T.V. causes you to lust, throw it away!” But this is a misreading of the passage. The context of this passage is social, not individualistic. Of course, applied consistently, it does speak to personal struggles and living holy lives, but it is primarily about church discipline and removing sin amid the Church. “But whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in Me to stumble…” (v. 42a).

There is a social dimension to repentance within the Church. The Church must purge herself of those who wish to divide and hurt the flock or cause her little ones to stumble. But if we were to work this idea positively, our personal repentance is for the health of the whole. It strengthens the faith and love of our brothers and sisters within the body of Christ. Personal repentance is our spiritual antibody, and repentance done together with the rest of the Church is our corporate antibody.

The Lenten season is a time for the Church to practice this corporate inspection. In our personal devotions, we are to examine ourselves in relationship to the whole Church. We are not isolated individuals that just happen to have something in common. We are united by the same Spirit, knit together into one body, and all serve the same Father in heaven.

Lent is not just the practice of individualistic prayer, but fervent prayer for one another – for healing, faith, needs, and comfort. It is not just the practice of fasting, but the giving up of something so that we might give more to each other – our time, help, food, and clothing. It is not just the practice of personal repentance but solving disputes, restoring relationships, asking others for forgiveness, and extending that forgiveness freely. Lent is not so much about giving up but giving more.

This is because Lent is preparation for resurrection life. We not only prune ourselves but prune each other so that we might grow in the faith and life of our Lord Jesus. Repentance is a death, it is a cutting off, but it is a cutting off so that the life of the body may be preserved. Your personal devotions this season should be toward those ends, not just for your health but the health of your brother and sister. Your practices of prayer, fasting, and repentance should be used like food for others. They should strengthen, nourish, and give joy to the body. May you season the sacrificial body of the Church with the salt of faith and repentance so that we all might be conformed more and more into the image of our resurrected Lord and have peace with one another.

On August 6, 2020 By Lucas Dorminy In Church, Worship 2

Sleep In On Sunday

My family hops into the van (sometimes rather frantically) on Sunday mornings and buckle up for the ride through our small city to church. On the way down our street and around the corner we see knocked over trash cans, random articles of clothing, and maybe a stray pit-bull roaming the back alleys. Our town is in desperate need of renovation. The kids have a hard time comprehending the state of our city, but my wife and I know that the blue, brick house we just passed was busted last night for drugs, the boarded up duplex was once a meth lab, and the neighborhood barber shop near Queen St. closed its doors for good just a week or two ago. But every other Sunday I will holler to the back of the van, “Where are we going?” My son replies, “To heaven.”

Israel’s return to Jerusalem after her captivity is recorded in Psalm 126, a psalm of ascent. These psalms of ascent were often sung as the people of Israel made their walk up to the temple mount to worship the Lord. In the first verse of this psalm (126) the Psalmist says, “We were like those who dream.” Have you ever tried to picture what that looked like? I imagine the puffy, red eyes of my sons as I look in the rearview mirror on that Sunday drive. They still glimmer with the dreams from just a few hours ago. Jacob’s dream at Bethel in Genesis 28 has come to mind many times as my family has stumbled into the van on Sunday mornings. What did Jacob say after he took his nap on the rock at Bethel? “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it.” Surely the Lord is in this city, but do we know it? Does this city know it?

If you’ve read the bible at all, you’d know that dreams are rather important and are often prophetic (Gen. 37; Dan. 2; Acts 2:17). Jacob’s dream is no different in this respect. He arrives at a city named Luz on his way to Haran and stops because the sun had set. He grabs a rock as a pillow and begins to sleep. Jacob dreams of a ladder between heaven and earth, the angels of God ascending and descending on it, and a voice from the Lord above saying that He will grant Jacob descendants as numerous as the dust of the earth – the whole earth will be blessed through him. The Lord had met with Jacob at Bethel; He had made that place a portal to heaven itself. So, it would make sense for Jacob to name it “house of God”. You’d expect to find God in His own house. And it would also make sense that Jacob would be forever changed by that experience. I can imagine him rubbing his sleepy, wearied eyes in the morning eventually revealing a face glowing with excitement. It is quite the dream after all.

Many-a-theologian have pointed out that the ladder in Jacob’s dream is a picture of our Lord Jesus, the bridge between man and God (earth and heaven). This is true, of course. But it is also true that Jacob is a picture of Jesus. It is no coincidence that Jacob lays his head on a rock, that he rests, and that his dream shows a portal between heaven and earth. Jesus’s tomb, in which He rested His wearied head in death, was hewn out of rock and covered with a stone (Matt. 27:60). The rocky mountain in Jerusalem was the site of the Lord’s House built by Solomon (1 Chron. 28). Jesus said that no stone would be left unturned in this temple’s destruction and that He’d raise it up in three days (John 2). Jesus is the Temple built on a rock; He is the rock itself (the chief cornerstone). He is the source of our rest from labor and weariness (Matt. 11:28). In Him we awake from our slumber of death. In Him we ascend into the heavenly places and sit at the right hand of God the Father (Eph. 2:6). He is the portal between heaven and earth. And if Christ is the true Jacob, surely His body is as well.

The fourth commandment requires the Church to rest on the Sabbath and to keep it holy. Have you ever thought of that command in this light? Our Lord commands that you rest in the worship of the Church. He not only commands you to rest, but He wants you to dream. Every week our Lord calls us into His house to sleep, to rest from our troubles. He puts us to sleep with the confession of sin – putting to death the old man and creating you anew. He speaks to you from the heavenly places in His Word and declares the promise that this whole earth will be covered with the blessing of His salvation. Just as he promised Jacob, He gives you bread to eat (Gen. 28:20); He serves you heavenly food. And He awakens you to a new life in which you know God even more. The worship of God’s people is a heavenly dream.

As we leave the heavenly domain of the liturgy, we often rub our eyes, give a good stretch (maybe a yawn), and forget what we just dreamed. We are a forgetful bunch. We get our families packed back in our vans and head down main street. Back to earth we go. We pass the knocked over trash cans, the empty shopping carts, and the same drug addicts on their stoops. Do we remember the voice of our Lord? Do we remember His words? Can we still see the dream? Heaven meeting earth, descendants spreading throughout the world, all families being blessed, an earth calling for redemption – for rest. Your neighbors need to see those puffy, red eyes of one who just saw heaven. They need hope. They need rest from their weary lives of sin and death. The sun may have set in our city, but there are still those who dream. There are still those who meet with God. God is most certainly in our city, but there are still those who don’t know it yet.

This heavenly dream that you enter each week is not just meant for you. It is meant for your street, your block, your city. This dream should be proclaimed in the town square, in board meetings, at homeschool co-ops, and city council meetings. Our lives should be marked with the rest of God. So, when you load up to head home from church on Sunday, crack your back, fix your hair, and live like you believe that heavenly vision. Because one day this whole earth, your city included, will be God’s house of rest and dreams.

My son yells from the back of the van, “Where are we going now, dad?” The correct answer is, “Back to earth, son. But we’re taking heaven with us.”

On April 12, 2019 By Lucas Dorminy In Theology 1

A Meditation on Gardening

I found myself on my hands and knees in the backyard this afternoon after noticing, through the loving reminders from my wife, that the yard had begun to be overrun with weeds and thorns. I’m not a fan of yard work and it didn’t help that I decided to cease any such work a few weeks early before the beginning of winter last year. On top of this, my family lives in a city that has seen better days. Scattered throughout the downtown area are houses abandoned either due to unpaid debts or drug and alcohol abuse. One such house is right next door to us, and our backyards are only separated by a small fence. This doesn’t help our weed and thorn situation.

As I was walking throughout the yard scanning for trash, broken bottles, and needles (as is my habit after a winter season in an opioid ravaged area), I noticed that I couldn’t call this a yard anymore. It seemed to me that any remaining grass had been dwarfed by the weeds and thorny plants that have crept in from that other yard. It couldn’t be my fault! Of course, it was my fault. My lack of effort to prepare the yard for the winter season meant I’d inherit a plot of land in need of extra attention come spring time. Now, I’m reaping what I sowed.

After about an hour or so, I began to find myself crawling about through the yard yanking and pulling up weeds, chopping down some overgrown brush along the fence line, and picking up the trash of those weary travelers who loiter in the alley behind my property. As my hands combed through the soil, I couldn’t help but think of our father Adam formed from the dust of the ground. I thought of the original garden free from thorn and thistle, from sin and death. I thought of Adam’s job to have dominion over the earth and subdue it, and of our Lord Jesus who had come to complete what the first Adam could not. It is no accident that our Lord was mistaken for a gardener after His resurrection (John 20:15).

Adam wasn’t formed by dust alone, but by the mist that covered the ground and the Spirit breathed into his nostrils. Adam was formed by fertile ground. Like a tree planted by streams of water, Adam was formed from the fertile and watered soil of God’s pristine creation. This land had not yet sprouted thorns or weeds. Ironically, the very good creation of Man ended up becoming the one by whom sin and death entered into the world.

“Cursed is the ground because of you… thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you.” (Gen. 3:7b, 8a ESV)

I remember seeing a photo, which I can’t seem to find now, of a Catholic priest lifting a boulder with the quote, “So many rocks, just like my sins,” below it. I felt that way, though not nearly as strong, as I was on my knees pulling weeds out of my yard. “So many weeds, just like my sins.” The garden that is my life is often filled with weeds in need of plucking and brush for burning. After all, if we say we have no sin in us, we deceive ourselves.

But plucking weeds and thorn-covered plants isn’t easy or painless work. If your hands aren’t used to the job, you get blisters; your non-calloused hands can’t handle the rough plants and sharp thorns. In a similar fashion, if we have no routine of pulling up the roots of sin in our own lives, when we eventually get around to it our hands are no match for the strength and roughness of the plant, and it hurts far greater than it would if we had just dealt with the sapling rather than the tree.

Though gardens (or yards) are not meant to be neglected, they also shouldn’t be closed off to those around you. The real tragedy of my yard full of thorns and weeds is not that it looks bad or that I may get bad looks from neighbors. The real tragedy is that it can’t be shared with others. Our Lord Jesus often used the imagery of wheat and tares. The tares were to be plucked up and burned while the wheat was to be reaped and gather into barns. This imagery was to give us a picture of the righteous and unrighteous, but who is that wheat for? The seeds sown by the Son of Man in Matthew 13 are the sons of the kingdom (Christians) and the field is the world, but seeds grow into wheat and wheat into bread. And that bread is for whom? Just as Jesus gave His life for the world, those who are united to Him must give up their lives for others. Ultimately, our lives, our gardens, are not our own.

Those weeds may not be choking a row of wheat in my backyard, but they are most certainly stifling the giggles and imagination of my children. They are silencing the wonderful conversations with friends and family that could be shared around a grill or fire pit during long summer evenings. True gardening is harsh and laborious work. True gardening is getting on your hands and knees in order to sow blood, sweat, and tears for the life of others around you. Following the True Gardener, we too must do the hard work of dying to ourselves for the joy of everyone else.

So, as I pull on these weeds and fight these thorns, I’m reminded that this garden reflects what my life often can and does look like. A life that is inhospitable to others, full of touchy subjects and overgrown sins. Instead of letting that sin grow, it is my responsibility to uproot it. My hands may bleed and my knees may get sore, but that work is for a far more important purpose than just a clean yard; it’s for the joy of others. And though killing sin humbles me and pains me, it must be done. For our Lord Jesus took upon His head the thorny crown of sin for the joy of the world. If He did that for us, what’s a little gardening for others?

On February 23, 2019 By Lucas Dorminy In Politics Like

Bernie and the Babel of Progress

Senator Bernie Sanders has once again announced his candidacy for president of the United States. After his loss in the Democrat primaries to Hillary Clinton in 2016, he’s ready for another round in 2020 at the ripe age of 77. Along with the announcement of his candidacy, he released a campaign ad entitled “Vision” on February 19. In this ad, he lays out his, you guessed it, “vision” for his 2020 run against President Trump. But “vision” in this ad takes on a more ancient meaning. Laced with positive character traits quoted from various news outlets, the ad begins to paint a picture of Bernie’s political eschatology, starting the ad with this telling quote, “Real change never takes place from the top on down but always from the bottom on up.”

Bernie is painting a picture for the American people; a picture of a future that is fair for all races, genders, income-earners, and sexual orientations. He is arguing for a progressive future where “hate” and “bigotry” have no place and people get along with one another – a true utopia. He even goes so far as to suggest that he will help save the world from destruction with his climate change policies. The language that Bernie and his progressive party chooses to use is nothing new; its apocalyptic.

The word apocalypse simply means “unveiling” or “revelation.” On a surface level, Bernie isn’t revealing anything new to the American people, and his apocalyptic speech isn’t unique to either political party. Donald Trump used the same language (only with different enemies) in his 2016 presidential run. However, what Bernie seems to be revealing with his language is his populist strategy by which he will reorder society – revolution. This revolution won’t happen via armed militias or military coups but through language and democratic process. And like all apocalypses, there is an impending judgement awaiting those who do not take action, who do not believe. There is no room for hate.

In Bernie’s new ad, he explicitly describes what is at stake in this revolution – racial and economic equality, peace, and even the life of the planet. Bernie is a voice crying out in the wilderness of the American political landscape, “Repent for the kingdom of progress is at hand.” This kingdom of progress will bring about racial reconciliation, a cleaner environment, a comfortable wage, justice for all, free tuition for all, freedom from incarceration through educational means, and on and on.

In an interview following his announcement to run for president (CBS interview), he starts by labeling his greatest enemy to this “kingdom of progress” (Donald Trump) as a racist, sexist, homophobic xenophobe whose days are numbered. Like St. John the Baptizer, Bernie’s revolutionary vision comes with blessing for those who believe and judgement for those who do not, but he is not the revolution himself. No, he is merely revealing the one who is to come.

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