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	<title>Zondervan Author Mark Buchanan - Pastor &#38; Author of The Rest of God, Spiritual Rhythm, and many more.</title>
	<link>http://markbuchanan.net</link>
	<description>Zondervan Author Mark Buchanan Writes</description>
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		<title>Spiritual Rhythm</title>
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		<title>The Rest of God</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/book/the-rest-of-god/</link>
		<pubDate>Fri, 08 Apr 2011 11:53:18 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>The Holy Wild</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/book/the-holy-wild/</link>
		<pubDate>Fri, 08 Apr 2011 11:53:38 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
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	<item>
		<title>Things Unseen</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/book/things-unseen/</link>
		<pubDate>Fri, 08 Apr 2011 11:53:55 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
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	<item>
		<title>Your God is Too Safe</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/?attachment_id=66</link>
		<pubDate>Tue, 12 Apr 2011 11:45:26 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
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		<wp:post_date>2011-04-12 11:45:26</wp:post_date>
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	<item>
		<title>Spiritual Rhythm</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/?attachment_id=116</link>
		<pubDate>Wed, 04 May 2011 04:53:11 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
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		<wp:post_date>2011-05-04 04:53:11</wp:post_date>
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		<wp:post_name>spiritual-rhythm-2</wp:post_name>
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	<item>
		<title>Hidden in Plain Sight</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/?attachment_id=118</link>
		<pubDate>Wed, 04 May 2011 04:54:23 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
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		<wp:post_id>118</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-05-04 04:54:23</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-05-04 04:54:23</wp:post_date_gmt>
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		<wp:post_name>hidden-in-plain-sight-2</wp:post_name>
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	<item>
		<title>The Rest of God</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/?attachment_id=120</link>
		<pubDate>Wed, 04 May 2011 04:55:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
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		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>120</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-05-04 04:55:00</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-05-04 04:55:00</wp:post_date_gmt>
		<wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status>
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		<wp:post_name>the-rest-of-god-2</wp:post_name>
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	<item>
		<title>Things Unseen</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/?attachment_id=122</link>
		<pubDate>Wed, 04 May 2011 04:55:38 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
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		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-05-04 04:55:38</wp:post_date_gmt>
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	<item>
		<title>The Holy Wild</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/?attachment_id=125</link>
		<pubDate>Wed, 04 May 2011 04:57:01 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
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		<wp:post_date>2011-05-04 04:57:01</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-05-04 04:57:01</wp:post_date_gmt>
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		<wp:post_name>the-holy-wild-2</wp:post_name>
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	<item>
		<title>Your God is Too Safe</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/?attachment_id=127</link>
		<pubDate>Wed, 04 May 2011 04:57:33 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/Your-God-is-Too-Safe.jpg</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[]]></content:encoded>
		<excerpt:encoded><![CDATA[]]></excerpt:encoded>
		<wp:post_id>127</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-05-04 04:57:33</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-05-04 04:57:33</wp:post_date_gmt>
		<wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status>
		<wp:ping_status>open</wp:ping_status>
		<wp:post_name>your-god-is-too-safe-2</wp:post_name>
		<wp:status>inherit</wp:status>
		<wp:post_parent>0</wp:post_parent>
		<wp:menu_order>0</wp:menu_order>
		<wp:post_type>attachment</wp:post_type>
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	<item>
		<title>Flowers Blossom</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/06/06/let-your-faith-blossom/flowers-blossom/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 06 Jun 2011 15:29:52 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Flowers-Blossom.png</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[]]></content:encoded>
		<excerpt:encoded><![CDATA[]]></excerpt:encoded>
		<wp:post_id>279</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-06-06 08:29:52</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-06-06 15:29:52</wp:post_date_gmt>
		<wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status>
		<wp:ping_status>open</wp:ping_status>
		<wp:post_name>flowers-blossom</wp:post_name>
		<wp:status>inherit</wp:status>
		<wp:post_parent>277</wp:post_parent>
		<wp:menu_order>0</wp:menu_order>
		<wp:post_type>attachment</wp:post_type>
		<wp:post_password></wp:post_password>
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		<wp:postmeta>
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	<item>
		<title>Flowers Blossom</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/06/06/let-your-faith-blossom/flowers-blossom-2/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 06 Jun 2011 15:31:04 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Flowers-Blossom1.png</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[]]></content:encoded>
		<excerpt:encoded><![CDATA[]]></excerpt:encoded>
		<wp:post_id>281</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-06-06 08:31:04</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-06-06 15:31:04</wp:post_date_gmt>
		<wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status>
		<wp:ping_status>open</wp:ping_status>
		<wp:post_name>flowers-blossom-2</wp:post_name>
		<wp:status>inherit</wp:status>
		<wp:post_parent>277</wp:post_parent>
		<wp:menu_order>0</wp:menu_order>
		<wp:post_type>attachment</wp:post_type>
		<wp:post_password></wp:post_password>
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		<wp:attachment_url>http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Flowers-Blossom1.png</wp:attachment_url>
		<wp:postmeta>
			<wp:meta_key>_wp_attached_file</wp:meta_key>
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		<wp:postmeta>
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	<item>
		<title>Flowers Blossom</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/06/06/let-your-faith-blossom/flowers-blossom-3/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 06 Jun 2011 15:34:17 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Flowers-Blossom2.png</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[]]></content:encoded>
		<excerpt:encoded><![CDATA[]]></excerpt:encoded>
		<wp:post_id>282</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-06-06 08:34:17</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-06-06 15:34:17</wp:post_date_gmt>
		<wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status>
		<wp:ping_status>open</wp:ping_status>
		<wp:post_name>flowers-blossom-3</wp:post_name>
		<wp:status>inherit</wp:status>
		<wp:post_parent>277</wp:post_parent>
		<wp:menu_order>0</wp:menu_order>
		<wp:post_type>attachment</wp:post_type>
		<wp:post_password></wp:post_password>
		<wp:is_sticky>0</wp:is_sticky>
		<wp:attachment_url>http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Flowers-Blossom2.png</wp:attachment_url>
		<wp:postmeta>
			<wp:meta_key>_wp_attached_file</wp:meta_key>
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		<wp:postmeta>
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	<item>
		<title>Flowers Blossom</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/06/06/let-your-faith-blossom/flowers-blossom-4/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 06 Jun 2011 15:37:19 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Flowers-Blossom3.png</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[]]></content:encoded>
		<excerpt:encoded><![CDATA[]]></excerpt:encoded>
		<wp:post_id>283</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-06-06 08:37:19</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-06-06 15:37:19</wp:post_date_gmt>
		<wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status>
		<wp:ping_status>open</wp:ping_status>
		<wp:post_name>flowers-blossom-4</wp:post_name>
		<wp:status>inherit</wp:status>
		<wp:post_parent>277</wp:post_parent>
		<wp:menu_order>0</wp:menu_order>
		<wp:post_type>attachment</wp:post_type>
		<wp:post_password></wp:post_password>
		<wp:is_sticky>0</wp:is_sticky>
		<wp:attachment_url>http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Flowers-Blossom3.png</wp:attachment_url>
		<wp:postmeta>
			<wp:meta_key>_wp_attached_file</wp:meta_key>
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		<wp:postmeta>
			<wp:meta_key>_wp_attachment_metadata</wp:meta_key>
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	</item>
	<item>
		<title>Cell Phone Addict</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/06/11/things-their-discontents/cell-phone-addict/</link>
		<pubDate>Sat, 11 Jun 2011 14:43:48 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Cell-Phone-Addict.jpg</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[]]></content:encoded>
		<excerpt:encoded><![CDATA[]]></excerpt:encoded>
		<wp:post_id>288</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-06-11 07:43:48</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-06-11 14:43:48</wp:post_date_gmt>
		<wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status>
		<wp:ping_status>open</wp:ping_status>
		<wp:post_name>cell-phone-addict</wp:post_name>
		<wp:status>inherit</wp:status>
		<wp:post_parent>287</wp:post_parent>
		<wp:menu_order>0</wp:menu_order>
		<wp:post_type>attachment</wp:post_type>
		<wp:post_password></wp:post_password>
		<wp:is_sticky>0</wp:is_sticky>
		<wp:attachment_url>http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Cell-Phone-Addict.jpg</wp:attachment_url>
		<wp:postmeta>
			<wp:meta_key>_wp_attached_file</wp:meta_key>
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	</item>
	<item>
		<title>What Could Have Been</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/06/20/a-different-parable-of-the-talents/what-could-have-been/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 20 Jun 2011 19:07:51 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/What-Could-Have-Been.jpg</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[]]></content:encoded>
		<excerpt:encoded><![CDATA[What Could Have Been]]></excerpt:encoded>
		<wp:post_id>300</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-06-20 12:07:51</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-06-20 19:07:51</wp:post_date_gmt>
		<wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status>
		<wp:ping_status>open</wp:ping_status>
		<wp:post_name>what-could-have-been</wp:post_name>
		<wp:status>inherit</wp:status>
		<wp:post_parent>299</wp:post_parent>
		<wp:menu_order>0</wp:menu_order>
		<wp:post_type>attachment</wp:post_type>
		<wp:post_password></wp:post_password>
		<wp:is_sticky>0</wp:is_sticky>
		<wp:attachment_url>http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/What-Could-Have-Been.jpg</wp:attachment_url>
		<wp:postmeta>
			<wp:meta_key>_wp_attachment_metadata</wp:meta_key>
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		<wp:postmeta>
			<wp:meta_key>_wp_attached_file</wp:meta_key>
			<wp:meta_value><![CDATA[2011/06/What-Could-Have-Been.jpg]]></wp:meta_value>
		</wp:postmeta>
	</item>
	<item>
		<title>What Could Have Been</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/06/20/a-different-parable-of-the-talents/what-could-have-been-2/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 20 Jun 2011 19:10:35 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/What-Could-Have-Been1.jpg</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[]]></content:encoded>
		<excerpt:encoded><![CDATA[]]></excerpt:encoded>
		<wp:post_id>305</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-06-20 12:10:35</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-06-20 19:10:35</wp:post_date_gmt>
		<wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status>
		<wp:ping_status>open</wp:ping_status>
		<wp:post_name>what-could-have-been-2</wp:post_name>
		<wp:status>inherit</wp:status>
		<wp:post_parent>299</wp:post_parent>
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		<pubDate>Wed, 29 Jun 2011 13:19:24 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>Keats Island</title>
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		<pubDate>Sat, 09 Jul 2011 19:44:38 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>Keats Island</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/07/09/the-churchs-unsung-gift/008-2/</link>
		<pubDate>Sat, 09 Jul 2011 19:50:59 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>Keats Island</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/07/09/the-churchs-unsung-gift/008-3/</link>
		<pubDate>Sat, 09 Jul 2011 20:00:49 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>Driftwood Fence</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/09/10/what-i-did-this-weekend/photo/</link>
		<pubDate>Tue, 06 Sep 2011 23:56:50 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
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		<wp:post_id>412</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-09-06 16:56:50</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-09-06 23:56:50</wp:post_date_gmt>
		<wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status>
		<wp:ping_status>open</wp:ping_status>
		<wp:post_name>photo</wp:post_name>
		<wp:status>inherit</wp:status>
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	<item>
		<title>Twin Towers 9/11</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/09/10/life-without-veils/twin-towers-911/</link>
		<pubDate>Sun, 11 Sep 2011 03:20:18 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
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		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[]]></content:encoded>
		<excerpt:encoded><![CDATA[]]></excerpt:encoded>
		<wp:post_id>422</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-09-10 20:20:18</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-09-11 03:20:18</wp:post_date_gmt>
		<wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status>
		<wp:ping_status>open</wp:ping_status>
		<wp:post_name>twin-towers-911</wp:post_name>
		<wp:status>inherit</wp:status>
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		<wp:post_type>attachment</wp:post_type>
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	<item>
		<title>Isaiah Scroll</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/09/18/ancient-but-never-old/isaiah-scroll/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 19 Sep 2011 04:01:31 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/isaiah-scroll.jpg</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[]]></content:encoded>
		<excerpt:encoded><![CDATA[]]></excerpt:encoded>
		<wp:post_id>432</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-09-18 21:01:31</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-09-19 04:01:31</wp:post_date_gmt>
		<wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status>
		<wp:ping_status>open</wp:ping_status>
		<wp:post_name>isaiah-scroll</wp:post_name>
		<wp:status>inherit</wp:status>
		<wp:post_parent>429</wp:post_parent>
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	</item>
	<item>
		<title>Celtic Cross - Glendalough Ireland</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/10/10/on-the-trail-of-st-patrick/44473_469471086170_697216170_7057807_3216868_n1/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 10 Oct 2011 22:38:38 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/44473_469471086170_697216170_7057807_3216868_n1.jpg</guid>
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		<excerpt:encoded><![CDATA[]]></excerpt:encoded>
		<wp:post_id>437</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-10-10 15:38:38</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-10-10 22:38:38</wp:post_date_gmt>
		<wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status>
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		<wp:post_name>44473_469471086170_697216170_7057807_3216868_n1</wp:post_name>
		<wp:status>inherit</wp:status>
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	</item>
	<item>
		<title>Belfast Wanted</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/10/29/the-stories-we-tell-ourselves/belfastwanted/</link>
		<pubDate>Sun, 30 Oct 2011 04:05:34 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/BelfastWanted.jpg</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[]]></content:encoded>
		<excerpt:encoded><![CDATA[]]></excerpt:encoded>
		<wp:post_id>446</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-10-29 21:05:34</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-10-30 04:05:34</wp:post_date_gmt>
		<wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status>
		<wp:ping_status>open</wp:ping_status>
		<wp:post_name>belfastwanted</wp:post_name>
		<wp:status>inherit</wp:status>
		<wp:post_parent>444</wp:post_parent>
		<wp:menu_order>0</wp:menu_order>
		<wp:post_type>attachment</wp:post_type>
		<wp:post_password></wp:post_password>
		<wp:is_sticky>0</wp:is_sticky>
		<wp:attachment_url>http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/BelfastWanted.jpg</wp:attachment_url>
		<wp:postmeta>
			<wp:meta_key>_wp_attached_file</wp:meta_key>
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		<wp:postmeta>
			<wp:meta_key>_wp_attachment_metadata</wp:meta_key>
			<wp:meta_value><![CDATA[a:6:{s:5:"width";s:3:"160";s:6:"height";s:3:"120";s:14:"hwstring_small";s:23:"height='96' width='128'";s:4:"file";s:25:"2011/10/BelfastWanted.jpg";s:5:"sizes";a:1:{s:9:"thumbnail";a:3:{s:4:"file";s:25:"BelfastWanted-150x120.jpg";s:5:"width";s:3:"150";s:6:"height";s:3:"120";}}s:10:"image_meta";a:10:{s:8:"aperture";s:3:"2.8";s:6:"credit";s:0:"";s:6:"camera";s:10:"iPhone 3GS";s:7:"caption";s:0:"";s:17:"created_timestamp";s:10:"1318608984";s:9:"copyright";s:0:"";s:12:"focal_length";s:4:"3.85";s:3:"iso";s:2:"64";s:13:"shutter_speed";s:16:"0.00729927007299";s:5:"title";s:0:"";}}]]></wp:meta_value>
		</wp:postmeta>
	</item>
	<item>
		<title>Belfast Revolutionary</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/10/29/the-stories-we-tell-ourselves/belfastrevolutionary/</link>
		<pubDate>Sun, 30 Oct 2011 04:06:33 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/BelfastRevolutionary.jpg</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[]]></content:encoded>
		<excerpt:encoded><![CDATA[]]></excerpt:encoded>
		<wp:post_id>447</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-10-29 21:06:33</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-10-30 04:06:33</wp:post_date_gmt>
		<wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status>
		<wp:ping_status>open</wp:ping_status>
		<wp:post_name>belfastrevolutionary</wp:post_name>
		<wp:status>inherit</wp:status>
		<wp:post_parent>444</wp:post_parent>
		<wp:menu_order>0</wp:menu_order>
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		<wp:attachment_url>http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/BelfastRevolutionary.jpg</wp:attachment_url>
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			<wp:meta_key>_wp_attached_file</wp:meta_key>
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		<wp:postmeta>
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	<item>
		<title>Peoples Army</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/10/29/the-stories-we-tell-ourselves/peoplesarmy/</link>
		<pubDate>Sun, 30 Oct 2011 04:07:19 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/PeoplesArmy.jpg</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[]]></content:encoded>
		<excerpt:encoded><![CDATA[]]></excerpt:encoded>
		<wp:post_id>448</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-10-29 21:07:19</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-10-30 04:07:19</wp:post_date_gmt>
		<wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status>
		<wp:ping_status>open</wp:ping_status>
		<wp:post_name>peoplesarmy</wp:post_name>
		<wp:status>inherit</wp:status>
		<wp:post_parent>444</wp:post_parent>
		<wp:menu_order>0</wp:menu_order>
		<wp:post_type>attachment</wp:post_type>
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		<wp:attachment_url>http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/PeoplesArmy.jpg</wp:attachment_url>
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			<wp:meta_key>_wp_attached_file</wp:meta_key>
			<wp:meta_value><![CDATA[2011/10/PeoplesArmy.jpg]]></wp:meta_value>
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		<wp:postmeta>
			<wp:meta_key>_wp_attachment_metadata</wp:meta_key>
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	<item>
		<title>Sample Page</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/sample-page/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 04 Apr 2011 10:26:51 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?page_id=2</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[This is an example page. It's different from a blog post because it will stay in one place and will show up in your site navigation (in most themes). Most people start with an About page that introduces them to potential site visitors. It might say something like this:

<blockquote>Hi there! I'm a bike messenger by day, aspiring actor by night, and this is my blog. I live in Los Angeles, have a great dog named Jack, and I like pi&#241;a coladas. (And gettin' caught in the rain.)</blockquote>

...or something like this:

<blockquote>The XYZ Doohickey Company was founded in 1971, and has been providing quality doohickies to the public ever since. Located in Gotham City, XYZ employs over 2,000 people and does all kinds of awesome things for the Gotham community.</blockquote>

As a new WordPress user, you should go to <a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-admin/">your dashboard</a> to delete this page and create new pages for your content. Have fun!]]></content:encoded>
		<excerpt:encoded><![CDATA[]]></excerpt:encoded>
		<wp:post_id>2</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-04-04 10:26:51</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-04-04 10:26:51</wp:post_date_gmt>
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		<title>Get My Theme</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/get-my-theme/</link>
		<pubDate>Wed, 23 Feb 2011 14:54:48 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>Showcase</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/showcase/</link>
		<pubDate>Wed, 23 Feb 2011 14:58:29 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>Support</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/support/</link>
		<pubDate>Wed, 23 Feb 2011 15:01:17 +0000</pubDate>
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Fusce eu sapien metus, cursus malesuada magna. Aliquam viverra leo id magna fringilla viverra. Sed convallis dui vitae mauris aliquam ut mollis eros porttitor. Nullam scelerisque arcu ac urna porttitor vitae dapibus purus commodo. Morbi condimentum sagittis tortor vitae tincidunt. Sed venenatis aliquet dolor at sollicitudin. In ac turpis non leo auctor bibendum. Donec adipiscing mollis imperdiet. Etiam ac odio mauris. Aenean iaculis risus vitae diam accumsan laoreet. Morbi condimentum sagittis tortor vitae tincidunt. Sed venenatis aliquet dolor at sollicitudin. In ac turpis non leo auctor bibendum. Donec adipiscing mollis imperdiet. Etiam ac odio mauris. Aenean iaculis risus vitae diam accumsan laoreet.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_date>2011-02-23 15:01:17</wp:post_date>
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		<title>Testimonials</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/testimonials/</link>
		<pubDate>Wed, 23 Feb 2011 15:03:40 +0000</pubDate>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[Aenean lacinia tristique sem fringilla hendrerit. Morbi sollicitudin, mi quis consequat pellentesque, mauris nibh lobortis turpis, ultricies ornare est metus sed enim. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Donec gravida viverra nisl, at tincidunt ipsum placerat vitae. Nulla congue ipsum sit amet lacus tristique laoreet. Duis quis convallis ante. Phasellus lobortis metus quis nibh blandit non porta mi semper. Duis eu consequat metus. Nunc sodales nisi a risus porta et fringilla nunc vestibulum. Donec auctor vehicula sem sed tempor. Vestibulum lobortis varius ornare. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Vestibulum venenatis quam et dui volutpat ac vestibulum nisl vehicula. Etiam id mollis mi. Aliquam commodo convallis sapien ut viverra. Aenean accumsan accumsan lorem, nec euismod libero imperdiet ac. Cras eget lorem eu lacus mattis pharetra ut non augue. Aliquam vulputate elit eget justo elementum ultrices. Curabitur neque ipsum, porta nec rhoncus sit amet, commodo tristique nibh. Nulla facilisi. Integer porta tincidunt leo, vitae elementum eros lacinia consectetur. Donec mi augue, consequat ac mattis ac, rutrum vel tellus. Donec accumsan dui sed est dignissim at lacinia dolor euismod. Sed nunc ipsum, tincidunt vel vulputate a, euismod in magna. Curabitur tortor leo, luctus ac pulvinar quis, facilisis et velit. Maecenas sed enim vel lorem cursus aliquet nec eleifend mauris. Praesent ut viverra diam. Nulla eu est non purus sollicitudin venenatis. Donec ac luctus lectus. Phasellus interdum consequat nunc, quis facilisis neque adipiscing sed. Fusce placerat blandit enim in condimentum. Nam faucibus placerat consequat. Donec ut mi risus, eu lacinia orci. Etiam tincidunt nunc ac diam porta nec scelerisque lectus vulputate. Sed dui quam, iaculis non auctor eget, facilisis posuere risus. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed vestibulum leo sed lacus sollicitudin pulvinar. Donec quis risus ipsum. Curabitur sit amet turpis turpis. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Ut dignissim varius purus, non scelerisque neque fermentum a. Mauris gravida massa quis neque placerat dapibus. Maecenas ac tortor quam, id tincidunt est. Nunc euismod luctus purus, non convallis orci eleifend sit amet. Quisque at quam sed risus vulputate tempus. Vestibulum mi velit, consectetur non laoreet a, blandit vitae ipsum. Praesent nisl lacus, egestas in tristique aliquet, ullamcorper vitae sem. Maecenas tristique nisi sagittis ligula dignissim scelerisque. Mauris augue tellus, cursus ut adipiscing non, commodo non eros. Nulla turpis ligula, pharetra eget tincidunt ac, dapibus vitae eros. Fusce eu sapien metus, cursus malesuada magna. Aliquam viverra leo id magna fringilla viverra. Sed convallis dui vitae mauris aliquam ut mollis eros porttitor. Nullam scelerisque arcu ac urna porttitor vitae dapibus purus commodo. Morbi condimentum sagittis tortor vitae tincidunt. ]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>12</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-02-23 15:03:40</wp:post_date>
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		<title>About</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/about/</link>
		<pubDate>Fri, 08 Apr 2011 11:21:50 +0000</pubDate>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[My name is Mark.

I am a writer and a pastor. I am a fisherman and a scuba diver. I love dark rich coffee and low-rider motorcycles. I am a preacher, a father, an author, a husband, a neighbor, a friend. I am a worshipper in spirit in truth, a man after God's own heart, and the chief of sinners.

I write because I can't help it. It's something viral. The need to write woke up in me when I was 12, and grew into something fierce and wild and holy. All my books have come from this. They are things birthed as much as created.

I became a pastor because God has a sense of humor. I never intended it. But he saw something in me neither I nor anyone else saw, and drew me down a path that has been the hardest and best of all.

I want to die like Jacob, leaning on my staff, worshiping God with all my heart, and blessing the generations that come after me. I would like as my epitaph, "He served God in his generation." Especially, I'd like it to be true.

Shalom

&nbsp;

Mark]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_date>2011-04-08 11:21:50</wp:post_date>
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		<title>Books</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/book/</link>
		<pubDate>Fri, 08 Apr 2011 11:50:40 +0000</pubDate>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="books"><a onclick="window.open('http://www.amazon.com/Spiritual-Rhythm-Being-Jesus-Season/dp/0310293650/','windowname1','width=800, height=500');return false;" href="javascript: void(0)"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-118" title="Hidden in Plain Sight" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/Spiritual-Rhythm-202x300.jpg" alt="" width="154" height="240" /></a>&nbsp;
<div class="book_content">
<h3>[popup url="http://www.amazon.com/Spiritual-Rhythm-Being-Jesus-Season/dp/0310293650/" ]
Spiritual Rhythm: Being with Jesus Every Season of Your Soul (Zondervan, 2010)
[/popup]</h3>
This was a very different book for me. It’s my longest (to date), weighing in at over 300 pages, and my most personal. It came out of deep pain (the death of a close friend), and through that an even deeper discovery of Christ’s sufficiency for all things and in all things. The book’s two central insights - that our hearts have seasons, and that we need rhythms to move through those seasons well - have changed the way I look at spiritual formation.

</div>
</div>
<div class="books"><a onclick="window.open('http://www.amazon.com/Hidden-Plain-Sight-Secret-More/dp/B0013L4DK8/','windowname1','width=800, height=500');return false;" href="javascript: void(0)"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-118" title="Hidden in Plain Sight" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/Hidden-in-Plain-Sight-193x300.jpg" alt="" width="154" height="240" /></a>&nbsp;
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<h3>[popup url="http://www.amazon.com/Hidden-Plain-Sight-Secret-More/dp/B0013L4DK8/" ]
Hidden in Plain Sight: The Secret of More (Thomas Nelson, 2007)
[/popup]</h3>
I had become preoccupied with 9 verses in 2 Peter 1, and used the more than 200 pages in this book to unpack them. It’s one of my most ambitious books, and the one that shaped my own spirituality most profoundly.

</div>
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<div class="books"><a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/The-Rest-of-God.jpg"></a><a onclick="window.open('http://www.amazon.com/Rest-God-Restoring-Your-Sabbath/dp/0849918707/','windowname1','width=800, height=500');return false;" href="javascript: void(0)"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-120" title="The Rest of God" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/The-Rest-of-God-193x300.jpg" alt="" width="154" height="240" /></a>&nbsp;
<div class="book_content">
<h3>[popup url="http://www.amazon.com/Rest-God-Restoring-Your-Sabbath/dp/0849918707/" ]The Rest of God: Restoring Your Soul by Restoring Sabbath (Thomas Nelson, 2006)
[/popup]</h3>
I wrote this during a sabbatical leave, which was the perfect setting for writing about Sabbath days and Sabbath hearts. In part, I document how my own drivenness nearly threw me over a cliff, and how discovering Sabbath brought me back to sanity. The book unfolds Sabbath’s gifts, and offers a practical approach to Sabbath-keeping.

</div>
</div>
<div class="books"><a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/Things-Unseen.jpg"></a><a onclick="window.open('http://www.amazon.com/Things-Unseen-Living-Light-Forever/dp/1590528832/','windowname1','width=800, height=500');return false;" href="javascript: void(0)"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-122" title="Things Unseen" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/Things-Unseen-210x300.jpg" alt="" width="168" height="240" /></a>&nbsp;
<div class="book_content">
<h3>[popup url="http://www.amazon.com/Things-Unseen-Living-Light-Forever/dp/1590528832/" ]Things Unseen: Living in Light of Forever (Multnomah, 2002) [/popup]</h3>
I was struck by how often I heard the comment, “You don’t want to be so heavenly minded you’re of no earthly good.” I started to wonder if such a person existed. I knew many people so earthly minded they were neither of heavenly nor earthly good, but the heavenly minded  people I knew were, to a person, generous, kind, joyful, and very effective. So I set out to write about that, and about the difference heavenly mindedness makes in the day to day – how a keen sense of forever invigorates the here and now. This book is the result.

</div>
</div>
<div class="books"><a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/The-Holy-Wild.jpg"></a><a onclick="window.open('http://www.amazon.com/Holy-Wild-Trusting-Character-God/dp/1590524489/','windowname1','width=800, height=500');return false;" href="javascript: void(0)"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-125" title="The Holy Wild" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/The-Holy-Wild-193x300.jpg" alt="" width="154" height="240" /></a>&nbsp;
<div class="book_content">
<h3>[popup url="http://www.amazon.com/Holy-Wild-Trusting-Character-God/dp/1590524489/" ]The Holy Wild: Trusting in the Character of God (Multnomah, 2003) [/popup]</h3>
I wanted to write about the classic attributes of God in a pastoral, not an academic, way. Particularly, I was piqued by the question, If God is [fill in the blank: just, loving, merciful, kind, and so on] what difference should that make when I [fill in the blank: face death, declare bankruptcy, lose a friend, spend money, etc.]? This is theology for the everyday.

</div>
</div>
<div class="books"><a onclick="window.open('http://www.amazon.com/Your-God-Safe-Mark-Buchanan/dp/1576737748/','windowname1','width=800, height=500');return false;" href="javascript: void(0)"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-127" title="Your God is Too Safe" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/Your-God-is-Too-Safe-194x300.jpg" alt="" width="155" height="240" /></a>&nbsp;
<div class="book_content">
<h3>[popup url="http://www.amazon.com/Your-God-Safe-Mark-Buchanan/dp/1576737748/" ]Your God is Too Safe:  Rediscovering the Wonder of a God You Can’t Control (Multnomah, 2001) [/popup]</h3>
This was my first book, and it’s close to my heart. It’s really a book of spiritual disciplines for Jonahs: God-evaders who want to become God-chasers. I coined two phrases in <em>YGiTS</em> that have had far-reaching impact: “Borderland,” which describes half-in, half-out Christianity; and “the Holy Wild,” which describes life to the full with the God who is not safe, but good. <em>YGiTS</em> is really a sustained invitation to leave Borderland and live in the Holy Wild.

</div>
</div>
<div class="books">
<h3>(Forthcoming) Your Church is Too Safe: Turning the World Upside Down (Zondervan, 2012)</h3>
My “sequel” to <em>Your God is Too Safe</em>, this book is a manifesto for the church to live more faithfully, generously, and dangerously. It is both a theology and a manual for “turning the world on its head.”

</div>
<div class="books">
<h3>(Forthcoming) David: A Novel (2013)</h3>
The novel I’ve been waiting to write all my life.

</div>]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>Contact</title>
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		<pubDate>Mon, 18 Apr 2011 06:26:16 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>Blog</title>
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		<pubDate>Mon, 18 Apr 2011 06:52:49 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>Peoples Army</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/10/29/the-stories-we-tell-ourselves/peoplesarmy-2/</link>
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		<title>PeoplesArmy</title>
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		<title>Belfast Revolutionary</title>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 30 Oct 2011 04:18:49 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>Nicola and Grandpa</title>
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		<title>The Seven Dwarfs</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/11/09/struggling-into-wakefulness/seven_dwarfs/</link>
		<pubDate>Thu, 10 Nov 2011 04:48:59 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>Me and my bike</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/11/19/youll-never-be-replaced-but/web-30/</link>
		<pubDate>Sat, 19 Nov 2011 23:08:35 +0000</pubDate>
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		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/12/20/santa-that-old-legalist/santa/</link>
		<pubDate>Wed, 21 Dec 2011 02:19:35 +0000</pubDate>
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		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2012/01/02/making-all-things-new/calvin-and-hobbes/</link>
		<pubDate>Tue, 03 Jan 2012 00:08:04 +0000</pubDate>
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		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2012/01/08/because-you-say-so/the_great_and_the_little_fishes/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 09 Jan 2012 03:09:37 +0000</pubDate>
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		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 18 Apr 2011 06:57:32 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?page_id=106</guid>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[I don't always understand God. I have, like Jacob, wrestled him all night, until I'm bone-weary, until he blesses and hobbles me.

I have, like Job, sulked on my dunghill, feeling betrayed by him, scraping my sores with potsherds. I have, like David, danced wild-limbed and ecstatic before him, scorning the shame. I have, like Paul, felt his strength in my weakness, his death in my living, his life in my dying, his glory in my plainness. I have met God in a thousand different ways, some exhilarating, some terrifying.

But boring? God is as far from boring as toadstools are from oak trees, as puddles are from oceans.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>106</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-04-18 06:57:32</wp:post_date>
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		<title>greenpower</title>
		<link>http://www.ipage.com/join/index.bml?AffID=653629</link>
		<pubDate>Wed, 04 May 2011 05:01:37 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
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		<wp:post_id>131</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-05-04 05:01:37</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-05-04 05:01:37</wp:post_date_gmt>
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		<title>And the Walls Came Tumblin Down</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/05/07/and-the-walls-came-tumblin-down/</link>
		<pubDate>Sat, 07 May 2011 01:02:47 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=142</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[I’ve spoken in the past 5 months to 5 different Christian “tribes”: the Salvation Army officers of BC, the Alliance pastors of BC, the Vineyard pastors of Canada, the Mennonite Brethren pastors of BC, and the Pentecostal Assembly pastors of BC &amp; the Yukon. By year’s end, I’m scheduled to speak to the Baptist pastors of the Atlantic provinces, the Baptist pastors of the Western provinces, and the Presbyterian churches of Northern Ireland, and early next January to the Fellowship Baptists youth pastors of Canada.

Either the sky is falling or the Kingdom is at hand.

In the 30 or so years I’ve been a Christ-follower, I have never seen this kind of open rapport among denominations. I have vivid and quite recent memories of deep suspicion and unveiled disdain between the tribes, even just between varieties of Baptists. Now that’s all fading to white. In the past 10 years, I’ve watched denominational walls tumble and denominational enmities dwindle.

God must smile.

What’s more, it’s hard to tell the difference anymore between the various groups. There are still the obvious markers: Salvation Army officer’s distinctive indigo uniform with deep red epaulets, Pentecostal’s habit of everyone praying simultaneously, Vineyard’s love for multiple repetitions of choruses. But all in all, I keep meeting up with the same core theology of the cross and the Kingdom, the same desperate hunger for the Spirit to fall afresh, the same practical challenges to be in the world but not of it. Everyone desires to do God’s mission in God’s strength for God’s glory. That has, I imagine, always been the case, but in the past we’ve let our minor differences loom larger than our common roots and our common cause, and so have diminished the mutual benefit we could be to each other. Less and less is that the case.

Something very close to God’s heart is happening here. We are watching in real time the church be the answer to Jesus’ prayer: “I pray that… all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. … I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one: I in them and you in me. May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me” (John 17:20-23).

I don’t think Jesus meant organizational unity, which would be unwieldy and ineffective.  He meant oneness of heart, regardless of our individual traditions.

It is an immense privilege that you and I get to live to see this. It is even more of a privilege that you and I are invited to join this: to “make every effort to keep the unity through the bond of peace” (Eph. 4:3).

May the walls keep tumblin’ down.

Shalom

Pastor Mark]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_date>2011-05-07 01:02:47</wp:post_date>
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			<wp:meta_value><![CDATA[Christians are coming together like never before.  Either the sky is falling or the Kingdom is at hand.]]></wp:meta_value>
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			<wp:meta_value><![CDATA[Church Unity - God Must Be Smiling Right Now]]></wp:meta_value>
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		<title>Good Leaders</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/05/13/good-leaders/</link>
		<pubDate>Fri, 13 May 2011 12:35:58 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=230</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[Gary Nelson, former General Secretary for Canadian Baptist Ministries (our tribe) and current President of Tyndale University, told me this week that a colleague described his leadership this way: <em>"You prefer to make every decision from consensus, but when there is no consensus you are unafraid to make a decision."</em> I've known Gary for 20 years, and that nails it. And it articulates a winsome model of good leadership.

A good leader is neither a bully nor coward. They do not arbitrarily impose their will on anyone, but they're not afraid to break an impasse, either. A good leader seeks and honours a wide range of views, listens closely to all of them, asks many questions, probes for the values underneath, gives the benefit of the doubt, and works to shape consensus from diversity.

But consensus is not always possible, especially when underlying values clash. In that case, consensus is not even desirable, because it will involve a fatal compromise. It's then that a good leader decides. That decision is anchored in deep convictions and core values. It never asks, "<em>Will this be popular?</em>" but only, "<em>Is this the right thing to do?</em>"

Every good leader is a peace-maker until they have to become a warrior.

Which points to the secret of good leadership: it comes from good self-leadership. Every good leader I know, whether they oversee a massive organization or no more than their own family, have this in common: each and all lead themselves well. They have disciplines to subdue their anger, to assuage their insecurities, to deepen their humility, to bolster their courage, and to clarify their beliefs. They rarely need to be rebuked because they beat everyone else to the punch. They know, as David did, how to find strength in God when others want to lynch them (see 1 Samuel 30:3-6). They can say, with total conviction, "<em>The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.</em>"

Which is to say, all good leaders are good followers. They submit, heart and soul and mind, to the Leader of Leaders, the King of kings, the Lord of Lords, and the only one who is truly good - Christ Jesus.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>230</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-05-13 05:35:58</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-05-13 12:35:58</wp:post_date_gmt>
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		<category domain="category" nicename="leadership"><![CDATA[Leadership]]></category>
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			<wp:meta_value><![CDATA[Good Leaders - The Mark of Strong Leadership]]></wp:meta_value>
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			<wp:meta_value><![CDATA[Good leaders share a list of common traits. Mark Buchanan explores a few of them in this week's blog post.]]></wp:meta_value>
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		<title>Grace Abounding</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/05/20/grace-abounding/</link>
		<pubDate>Fri, 20 May 2011 16:48:21 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=236</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[I read recently a report detailing an investigation into RCMP misconduct. One finding of the investigation: the RCMP were guilty of a “flawed process.” There was botched handling of the situation, insufficient checks and balances, ignorance or negligence of procedural protocols, and the like.

My single opinion about all that: being a cop is a tough job, and anyone subjected to the same level of intense scrutiny might likewise be found guilty of a “flawed process.”  But I got mulling over that phrase “flawed process.” We only ever hear that when something goes wrong. Indeed, we only ever really scrutinize any process when we don’t like the outcome. Failure, disaster, tragedy, damage – these are what spark an investigation into process. What happened here? What went wrong? Who’s to blame?

Success, victory, prosperity, healing – these rarely spark investigation. They just prompt celebration. We don’t do post-mortems on live bodies, and we don’t inquire deeply into why something works out. We’re just glad it does. When faced with massive failure, we cast about for someone to blame. We dig and pry and burrow. And almost always we discover a “flawed process.” But when greeted by dazzling success, we just tend to laugh, cheer, congratulate each other, maybe hand out bonuses, and inquire no further. We chalk it up to our brilliance and hard work. End of story. No investigation required.

But here’s what I’ve begun to realize: success is produced by flawed process as much as failure is. Success, like failure, is the result of many things we neither predict nor control.  Winning, not just losing, is usually marked by a significant measure of bumbling, guessing, lurching, leaps in the dark, and hair-brained risks. But all of that, if we notice it at all, is praiseworthy, not blameworthy, as long as we like the outcome. The man who takes a wild risk and loses a million dollars is an idiot. The man who takes a wild risks and makes a million is a genius.

But there’s a deeper thing going on here. The Bible says grace soaks the whole thing.  Grace, not flawed or brilliant process, is the real story in both our success and our failure, our winning and our losing. There is not one inch where grace doesn’t abound. There is not one situation where grace isn’t sufficient. Grace is thick in your most spectacular victories. And grace pours out and leaps up in your most crushing defeats.

So the next time anything goes really right or really wrong, accept that both came about by a flawed process. But even more, know that each contains a wealth of grace.  If you investigate anything, look hard for that.

Shalom

Pastor Mark]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>236</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-05-20 09:48:21</wp:post_date>
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			<wp:meta_value><![CDATA[Grace Abounding - Success Is Produced by Process]]></wp:meta_value>
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		<title>The Real Prodigal Son</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/05/24/the-real-prodigal-son/</link>
		<pubDate>Tue, 24 May 2011 13:39:42 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=241</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[I’m preaching a series right now called <strong>Be Thou My Vision: How the Apostles Teach Us to See God</strong>. It is a look at the classic attributes of God through both lens of the Old Testament and the New.

Here's a link to my message entitled “<a href="http://newlifechurch.ca/pod/index.php?p=episode&amp;name=2011-05-02_may_01_2011_11am.mp3">The Real Prodigal Son</a>”, an exploration of God’s extravagant generosity.]]></content:encoded>
		<excerpt:encoded><![CDATA[]]></excerpt:encoded>
		<wp:post_id>241</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-05-24 06:39:42</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-05-24 13:39:42</wp:post_date_gmt>
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		<wp:post_name>the-real-prodigal-son</wp:post_name>
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		<category domain="category" nicename="sermons"><![CDATA[Sermons]]></category>
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			<wp:meta_value><![CDATA[The Real Prodigal Son - A Sermon on God's Extravagant Generosity]]></wp:meta_value>
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			<wp:meta_value><![CDATA[Pastor and author Mark Buchanan does a teaching series call "Be Thou My Vision."  Today's message is entitled "The Real Prodigal Son"]]></wp:meta_value>
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		<title>If Worship Were Hockey</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/05/28/if-worship-were-hockey/</link>
		<pubDate>Sat, 28 May 2011 23:04:39 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=275</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[Now, at the worst possible moment, I dare to utter my heresy.

I’m not a hockey fan.

Indeed, let me commit the ultimate hockey sacrilege: <em>It’s just a game.</em>

I am aware of the Canuck’s standing in the playoffs. I can name most of the key Canuck players. I do hope they win the Stanley Cup. I think of them as “our” team. But I haven’t rearranged my life one iota to make room for any of it.

I know this puts me at odds with most of the world, or at least the province. It probably makes me a less effective pastor: all those in-the-moment sermon illustrations I’m missing out on, all those opportunities to bond with others around the sacred shrine, all those chances to be a man’s man.

I regret all this, but don’t repent of any of it.

I rarely watch hockey (I enjoy playing it) because of my father. He was a fan in the root sense – a <em>fan</em>atic, a zealot. The game flipped a switch in him. It provoked him to rants and tantrums. It awakened in him extravagant jubilation or harrowing grief. He cussed out players and coaches and – especially – referees like they were in the room with him and they were all in the middle of a union strike. He would literally turn purple with rage, or giddy with elation, depending on who just scored.

It all left me cold. Looking back, I see that hockey might have been a place my dad and I met. Instead, it became one more wall between us. I resented how it consumed him. I resented how he displayed more passion for and devotion to the antics of over-paid men than he showed for anything else. He resented, I think, my indifference.

All these years later, and my dad 15 years in the grave, I still get a funny feeling, a sadness and a loneliness, whenever I hear the distinctive hockey anthem strike up.

But there’s one thing I wish: that I was as excited about worshiping God as my dad was about watching hockey – that I was that willing to abandon myself to the moment, to enter it wholly and freely, to inhabit it with total commitment. I wish I sat at seat’s edge, yelling and cheering, for the King to show his glory like my dad did when his team got a breakaway. I wish I leapt to my feet to declare God’s praises as quickly as my dad leapt to his to roar his delight when his team scored. I wish I was that unrestrained in my love for God. My dad’s fanaticism for a mere game taught me what fervor looks like.

It embarrasses me that my worship still falls short of that.

The Youth Director at my church at the once-a-month youth worship service wondered how to engage a handful of bored, listless boys in worship. She stood up at the microphone and asked, “How many of you love the Canucks?”  Pretty much all of them.

“And how many of you love God?”  Pretty much all of them.

“Do you think tonight you could show that you love God at least as much as you love the Canucks?”  It’s that phrase <em>at least</em> that gets me most.

Shalom.

Mark]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_date>2011-05-28 16:04:39</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-05-28 23:04:39</wp:post_date_gmt>
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			<wp:meta_value><![CDATA[If Worship Were Hockey]]></wp:meta_value>
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			<wp:meta_key>dream_description</wp:meta_key>
			<wp:meta_value><![CDATA[What if we worshiped God as excitedly as we do hockey?  I promise this isn't your typical bait-and-switch sports-guilt rant.  Maybe.]]></wp:meta_value>
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		<title>Let Your Faith Blossom</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/06/06/let-your-faith-blossom/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 06 Jun 2011 15:25:44 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=277</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Flowers-Blossom3.png"><img class="size-full wp-image-283" title="Flowers Blossom" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Flowers-Blossom3.png" alt="" width="599" height="360" /></a></p>
I will keep this brief: I’m away with Cheryl, celebrating 26 years of marriage, and I have other things on my mind.

The place we’re staying – the exquisite and, under the circumstance, aptly named Honeymoon Bay Retreat Center, is quiet this morning – which it is every morning, I think, and afternoon, and evening. The gardens are bathed in sunlight. A gardener mulches earth outside the window. A thread of spider web, gleaming like silver, spans a pane of glass.  On the table beside where I sit and write is a vase of flowers, left for us by Tim &amp; Karla Erickson with a card of congratulations. The flowers: irises, carnations, Gerber daisies, all different  shades of pink, yellow leopard lilies, white field daisies (cross-bread to eliminate the foul odour), all set in a sprig of golden rod and a forest of salal.

Flowers are miracles. It’s astonishing to think such a wealth of variety all gathers under a single genus. A pink carnation is as different from a yellow lily as an Amur tiger is from a Tiger prawn.

God loves diversity. He is endlessly inventive in coming up with more species of things than all our sleuthing can name or number. Every year, people rummaging in river beds and reedy marshes and forest floors and forest canopies find new things – bugs and salamanders and hummingbirds, toads and toadstools, and some strain of huckleberry, that we had no knowledge of before. And, sadly, every year, many species go extinct.

Clearly, God loves the much-ness and many-ness of his good creation.  I think this is a lesson and caution to any of us who would impose on others too narrow a definition of Christian faith. Many varieties can gather under a single genus. In my life, I’ve seen many fruitless turf wars and shouting matches between branches of Christianity – Charismatics, Pentecostals, Orthodox, Baptists, shades of Baptists, liturgists, mystics, conservatives, etc. Each thought they were in exclusive possession of the full truth, when in fact each was impoverished by itself, and could have been enriched by keeping company with the others.

In John’s vision of the 7 churches of Asia Minor, recorded in Revelation 2 &amp; 3, each church lacks some things and each excels in some ways (well, one church lacks nothing, and one has zero strengths). And each is given a unique and distinct vision of Jesus, meant to help them in their specific situation. How sad that often we take our distinct vision of Jesus, declare it the only right one, and denounce all the others.  It’s like a lily telling a carnation it’s not a true flower.

A challenge: make it your business this year to find out what some branch of Christianity you’ve ignored or scorned actually believes. And be open to letting it strengthen your faith.

(So much for being brief).]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>277</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-06-06 08:25:44</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-06-06 15:25:44</wp:post_date_gmt>
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			<wp:meta_value><![CDATA[Let your Faith Blossom - Embrace the Diversity of Christianity]]></wp:meta_value>
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		<title>Things &amp; Their Discontents </title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/06/11/things-their-discontents/</link>
		<pubDate>Sat, 11 Jun 2011 14:51:32 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=287</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Cell-Phone-Addict.jpg"><img class="size-full wp-image-288" title="Cell Phone Addict" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Cell-Phone-Addict.jpg" alt="" width="295" height="300" /></a></p>
We are wired for attachment, and not just to others: to things.

I’m sure stone-age people felt a certain nakedness – a rush of dread, a shock of vulnerability - when they got well along in a journey and realized they’d left their flint rock or spear back in the cave, much as we do when, heading down the road, we realize we’ve left our cell phone in our other jacket at home.  The other day that happened to me. I forgot my iPhone by my reading chair. I panicked when I discovered it. I calculated whether I had time to turn back and fetch it. But I was stuck, phoneless in Mill Bay. I was in technological limbo, cybernetic exile.

All of this is sad and ironic. I spent most of my adulthood proud to be a Luddite – a backward scorner, on principle, of technology. I was especially, and only up until a few years ago, an avid disdainer of cell phones. I denounced them as cancer-inducing cattle prods. They invaded the little solitude the noisy world left to us.

Then I got one.

Now I can’t live without it.

I’ve thought about this a lot. It is in our nature to form dependencies (and usually remain deluded about it, thinking ourselves self-made, but that’s another story). We depend on things former generations never had, and they depended on things that generations before them never had. Our dependencies, to name a few: cars, computers, airplanes (even if we rarely fly, we rely on things brought to us in planes), grocery stores, refrigerators, ibuprofen, bobby pins, scotch tape, well-built shoes, roofing nails, flush toilets, cheap socks, corn and all its derivatives, petroleum and all its derivatives, coffee (including the growers, transporters, roasters, sellers, and machinery it takes to convert beans to liquid).

You get the idea.

Most of these dependencies we never notice until a scarcity brings us up short, like forgetting my phone at home. But other dependencies we’ve fashioned our lifestyle around. Many of us can’t imagine, for instance, life without a computer, yet most of us are old enough to have spent most of our existence without one, and we did fine.

Dependency by its nature is humbling. Dependency means you can’t do everything on your own. You just don’t have what it takes. Without this thing – fire, or water, or eggs, or milk, or batteries, or fry pans – life is much diminished, sometimes to the vanishing point. It’s worth inventorying some of these dependencies from time to time, to be humble and thankful.

But other dependencies are humbling in a different way: they weaken and trivialize us. These dependencies aren’t so much humbling as humiliating. They’re dependencies that have made us flaccid and clumsy and dull. We’ve given up too much of ourselves in the exchange. It’s worth examining some of these dependencies from time to time, to decide if we really need this thing as much as we’ve made out. Maybe our life without it, far from diminished, would be enriched and enlarged.

I think of a line from Carl Sandburg’s biography of Abraham Lincoln: “<em>In wilderness loneliness he companioned with trees, with the faces of open sky and weather in changing seasons, with that individual, one-man instrument, the ax. Silence found him for her own. In the making of the man, the element of silence was immense</em>.”

Note to self: next time, leave the cell phone by the chair intentionally.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>287</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-06-11 07:51:32</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-06-11 14:51:32</wp:post_date_gmt>
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		<title>Mono Sopho Theo</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/06/13/mono-sopho-theo/</link>
		<pubDate>Tue, 14 Jun 2011 01:56:13 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=297</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[I recently preached a series called <strong>Be Thou My Vision: How the Apostles Teach Us to See God</strong>. It was a look at the classic attributes of God through both lens of the Old Testament and the New.

Here’s a link to my message entitled "<a href="http://newlifechurch.ca/pod/?p=episode&amp;name=2011-05-08_may_08_2011_11am.mp3">Mono Sopho Theo</a>," a look at divine wisdom, and how and why it is most clearly seen in the cross and the church]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>297</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-06-13 18:56:13</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-06-14 01:56:13</wp:post_date_gmt>
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		<title>A Different Parable of the Talents</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/06/20/a-different-parable-of-the-talents/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 20 Jun 2011 19:15:28 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=299</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/What-Could-Have-Been1.jpg"><img class="size-medium wp-image-305" title="What Could Have Been" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/What-Could-Have-Been1-300x169.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="169" /></a></p>
&nbsp;

I only managed to watch 2 playoff games, though not the devastating finale – I was at my daughter Sarah’s school awards ceremony, which was lovely and had the added benefit that I spent the evening applauding winners.

But the two games I did watch – game 2 and game 5, both victories for the Canucks – gave me a little shock of insight: the difference between heart and talent.

The Canucks abound in talent. What I think they lack – or at least I had trouble seeing - is heart: that fighting spirit, that dignity and defiance in the face of adversity, that graciousness in defeat, that rising again, more determined than ever, after a crushing blow. They never looked hungry. They never looked desperate. They looked mad at times, but rarely focused in it.

They just looked talented. They often outshone and outflanked their opponents – indeed, except for the astonishing skills of Bruins’ goalie Tim Thomas, they likely would have been the ones kissing the silver chalice on Wednesday night, or much earlier.

In the end, though, talent wasn’t enough.

The early church was the other way around: they had more heart than talent. The church was mostly made up of people on the low end of the social scale, including a sizable proportion of slaves. It was, to put it crassly, a bunch of losers. The Apostle Paul describes them thus: "<em>Brothers and sisters, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him</em>" (1 Cor. 1:26-29).

The early church was Super-Starless. It was comprised largely of have-nots and misfits, wanna-bes and also-rans. It was no talent pool. It was a heart trust.

And with that, they turned the world upside down. They prevailed in the face of depravity, evil, poverty, hardship and persecution, and in the end toppled the most powerful empire that’s ever existed. They built the church at the gates of hell, and the gates fell.

It wasn’t done by talent, though certainly that wasn’t altogether absent. It was a conquest of the heart. I sometimes worry when I read various leadership books and attend various leadership seminars that we have forgotten this and are trying to win the day solely on the basis of talent. I think of one well-known Christian leader who advises other leaders only to hire "10s". A team like that might dazzle. But when it counts, they might just fizzle.

The gates of hell rarely yield to the merely talented. But they tremble and collapse before those with heart.

Oh, and I have a modest prediction for next year’s hockey season: our team, humbled by defeat, will play with a lot more of it.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>299</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-06-20 12:15:28</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-06-20 19:15:28</wp:post_date_gmt>
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		<title>From This to That in No Time Flat </title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/06/29/from-this-to-that-in-no-time-flat/</link>
		<pubDate>Wed, 29 Jun 2011 13:21:30 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=312</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Mark-and-Sarah-Buchanan1.jpg"><img class="size-medium wp-image-314" title="Mark and Sarah Buchanan" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Mark-and-Sarah-Buchanan1-300x200.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="200" /></a></p>
My daughter Sarah graduates tonight.

The math doesn’t add up. It wasn’t that long ago we brought her home from the maternity ward, a dark-haired, swarthy-skinned, wide-eyed little thing, half polecat and half princess. She was already spoiling for adventure and hunting mischief. And it was quite recently she was a feisty tyke, all of four, ready to take on a whole gang of nine-year-olds in the park behind our yard because they’d snatched her brother’s toy. There must have been four of five of them, but her fury terrified them into surrender. And, goodness, it was only a week ago, maybe three, she got her braces on, and then quick-as-you-blink got them off again.

You see what I mean. How we got from “<em>It’s a girl</em>!” to cap-and-gown involved some insidious time-warp, where years folded into minutes. We went from this to that in no time flat. We never had a moment to catch our breath. We never had enough hours to savour the girl at three, and ten, and 14, and now. Already I see this season hurtling by, brilliant and swiftly fading as a falling star.

In early September, I’ll drive Sarah and Cheryl to the Victoria airport. I’ll kiss them both goodbye. I’ll drive back down to the airport four days later to pick Cheryl up. But not Sarah. She’ll be gone, off to school in Quebec. And so that kiss goodbye will have to last several months, and the one after that several months again.

And this will be the rest of my life.

I find myself unprepared for this. That’s pathetic, I know, because nothing could have been more predictable: children come into our lives, disrupt them terribly, make us proud and make us gray, and then walk away. This is as it ought to be, and hard, even devastating, when it doesn’t happen like this. But it takes more getting used to than I’ve gotten used to. I’m still thinking my 20-year old son is just gone for a spell, soon to return to resume life among us. I’m still rummaging for exactly the right words to speak at these coming and goings, trying to find my balance, get my bearings, handle my emotions.

I keep thinking, How can they manage without me? when I know the real question is, How can I manage without them?

But this consoles me: I’d rather all this be so than not so.

Happy graduation, Sarah. I’m proud of you. Keep your eyes on Jesus, your feet on the ground, and your heart wide open to truth and grace. Love the Lord with all your heart and mind and soul and strength, and love your neighbour as yourself.

And don’t forget to call your dad.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>312</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-06-29 06:21:30</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-06-29 13:21:30</wp:post_date_gmt>
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		<title>Re-creating</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/07/01/re-creating/</link>
		<pubDate>Fri, 01 Jul 2011 20:42:02 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=319</guid>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/100_3417.jpg"><img class="size-medium wp-image-323" title="Holiday recreation" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/100_3417-300x225.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="225" /></a></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">Holidays prove a hunch: the world runs fine without us. Our absence is at most a minor glitch in the steady functioning of the organization, a tiny spasm in the smooth ordering of society. It’s not even a hiccup in the rhythms of planetary motions. Things happen, and well, without our hovering and meddling presence. The world does not malfunction if we’re not there to tinker with it. Progress is made without us having to express an opinion.</p>
Most of us get – and need - a yearly post-it-note from the universe: go fishing – we’ll figure it out without you. It’s called a vacation: we vacate, and find that the sun still rises and sets, the tides ebb and flow, and airplanes still rarely get off the gate on schedule.

This is humbling.

And it’s liberating. God never recruited Atlas. He doesn’t need anyone to carry the world on his shoulders. He does this fine all on his own.

Which is such good news. It’s good news because it relieves us the burden of managing the universe. Some days I can barely dress myself, so having the extra responsibility of running the universe is a bad idea for all involved.

But it’s good news because it also means our worth in God’s eyes is based on something other than our usefulness. God loves us for reasons other than that we’re clever or hardy. He certainly welcomes our work – working is a large part of how we’re made in his image. But he doesn’t love us for our work. He loves us, and delights in us, and lavishes favour on us, not because we’re useful, but because we’re his. We are his creation, the work of his hands. And in Christ, we are new creations, trophies of his grace.

For a good reason we associate holidays with recreation. The first word derives from holy days, the second literally means to re-create. We need holy days, not just to rest, but to remember who - and whose - we really are.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>319</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-07-01 13:42:02</wp:post_date>
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			<wp:meta_value><![CDATA[Using holidays for recreating.]]></wp:meta_value>
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			<wp:comment_id>2</wp:comment_id>
			<wp:comment_author><![CDATA[Re-Creating &laquo; Clavin&#039;s lore]]></wp:comment_author>
			<wp:comment_author_email></wp:comment_author_email>
			<wp:comment_author_url>http://clavinslore.wordpress.com/2011/11/30/re-creating/</wp:comment_author_url>
			<wp:comment_author_IP>74.200.244.114</wp:comment_author_IP>
			<wp:comment_date>2011-11-30 09:37:12</wp:comment_date>
			<wp:comment_date_gmt>2011-11-30 17:37:12</wp:comment_date_gmt>
			<wp:comment_content><![CDATA[[...] was a great and timely word.  You can read the rest of his thoughts here: Re-creating | Zondervan Author Mark Buchanan &#8211; Pastor &amp; Author of The Rest of God, Spiritu.... Share this:TwitterFacebookEmailStumbleUponLike this:LikeBe the first to like this [...] ]]></wp:comment_content>
			<wp:comment_approved>trash</wp:comment_approved>
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		<title>The Church&#039;s Unsung Gift</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/07/09/the-churchs-unsung-gift/</link>
		<pubDate>Sat, 09 Jul 2011 20:15:15 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=341</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="text-align: left;">                                                <img class="size-medium wp-image-345" title="Keats Island" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/0082-300x225.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="225" />     </p>
<p style="text-align: left;">      I write this in a seaside house on a small island. The house is light-soaked and quiet. It has sprawling cedar decks built to the edge of rocky shoals, and a large dock whose ramp teeters down to it as you walk out on it, a gang-plank-cum-see-saw. Almost every window frames a piece of sea and sky. In the mornings I sit in a window alcove, a fleece blanket draped over my shoulders against the morning chill, and pull things in close with binoculars. Our week here is a gift from good friends, who own the house, and who are themselves sleeping in an Atco trailer down the road to make room for us. My guilt about that is easily assuaged by the pleasure I take in everything: sunlight falling slantwise through windows, sailboats cutting white wakes in dark water, the smell of coffee, the sound of water on rock, the gray sleekness of the heron that perches daily at the dock’s edge, patient and watchful and quick as lightning when it counts.</p>
     Last week, I was on the same island, a few kilometres down the road, and busy. Cheryl and I were speakers at Barnabas Family camp. It was a work week: 14 speaking sessions in 6 days. 5 of the sessions were almost 2 hours each. In between, individuals or couples wanted to meet with us, some just to spend time, others seeking counsel or prayer. It was the kind of week that normally exhausts me. I usually return from an assignment like that spent, brittle, slightly jaded.

     But this was different. Barnabas is a place of shalom, and even in giving I found myself refreshed. I kept thinking of a line from The Lord of the Rings, describing Rivendell:

<em>Such was the virtue of the land of Rivendell that soon all fear and anxiety was lifted from their minds. The future, good or ill, was not forgotten, but ceased to have any power over the present. Health and hope grew strong in them, and they were content with each good day as it came, taking pleasure in every meal, and in every word and song.</em>

     Such was the virtue of the land.

     Part of the magic spell Barnabas casts is through its remarkable staff. The place is mostly run by 20 or so 20-somethings, a clutch of young adults under the steady but unobtrusive guidance of a few older adults. I have never seen anything quite like it: the combination of youthful energy, outsized giftedness, joyful servanthood, and humble leadership. They are on duty morning till night, over a wide range of activities from cleaning and cooking and childcare to music and drama and teaching, and never seem to lose an inch of patience, creativity or enthusiasm. They are prayerful, playful, generous, polite, and astonishingly talented. They don’t appear to carry an ounce of entitlement. More than anything, they brim with gratitude for the opportunity. If this represents the future of the church – indeed, the future of the world – then we have abundant grounds for both being both thankful and hopeful.

     I think it also is a testimony to what the church is doing right. Most of these young people are between 18 and 22. They have confidence without a shadow of arrogance.  They truly, deeply love Jesus. They walk in real purity. Every morning, when Cheryl and I had the privilege of sharing briefly with them, they came with wide-open attentiveness and prayed with fervor, faith, and a concern for others that made my own prayers seem tepid, halting, and self-absorbed.

     I sat one day at lunch with a table full of them, and asked about their “training.” Everyone was reared in the arms of the church. They learned early and as a matter of course to serve gladly, to cultivate their gifts to the full, and to use whatever they had in time, talent or money for the sake of God’s Kingdom. The church, without even really trying, had groomed them for true greatness. The gifts needed to lead well – a deep but humble confidence, a calmness in crisis, an ability to inspire and direct, a willingness to sacrifice personal comfort, a depth of perseverance, a clear eye on the big idea, an attention to details, and, always, courage – they have in spades. I doubt their non-Christian friends have anything even close to this.

     There is perhaps much to lament about the modern church. But I just spent the week with 20 or so 20-somethings that reminded me, as Bill Hybels loves to say, that “the local church is the hope of the world.”]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>341</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-07-09 13:15:15</wp:post_date>
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		<title>The Evangelical Pope</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/07/29/the-evangelical-pope/</link>
		<pubDate>Sat, 30 Jul 2011 02:23:10 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=356</guid>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[      John Stott died this week. He was 90.

      Stott was sometimes called "the evangelical pope." He was a man of wisdom, depth, clarity, warmth, and massive influence. He radiated love for Christ and his church. Though he spent most his years as pastor of All Souls Church in London, he was truly a global Christian, giving the royalties from his many books to support scholars and evangelists in the developing world. Though a lifelong Anglican, he declined the opportunity to become a bishop because he wanted to remain available to the wider church, among whom he was affectionately known as "Uncle John."

      His death prompted a deluge of tributes from all corners of the church and globe, and even from non-Christians.

     Saddleback Church’s Pastor Rick Warren simply declared him "a giant."

      Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams said of him, "During a long life of unsparing service and witness, John won a unique place in the hearts of all who encountered him. Without ever compromising his firm evangelical faith, he showed himself willing to challenge some of the ways in which that faith had become conventional or inward-looking. It is not too much to say that he helped to change the face of evangelicalism internationally, arguing for the necessity of ‘holistic’ mission that applied the Gospel of Jesus to every area of life. But he will be remembered most warmly as an expositor of scripture and a teacher of the faith, whose depth and simplicity brought doctrine alive in all sorts of new ways."

      The Rev. S. Douglas Birdsall, executive chair of the Lausanne Conference, which Stott co-founded with Billy Graham, remarked that "John Stott’s focus was the cross. The church was his great love. World evangelization was his passion. Scripture was his authority. Heaven was his hope. Now it is his home."

      Maybe it was David Brooks, a Jewish columnist for the <em>New York Times</em>, who captured him best. In an op-ed piece a few years ago, Brooks lamented the tendency of the media to find the most outlandish and offensive evangelical Christians and to make them representatives of the movement. He then pointed to Stott as evangelical Christianity’s real spokesman, describing him as "friendly, courteous and natural" whose faith was "humble and self-critical, but also confident, joyful and optimistic," and praising him for his "thoughtful allegiance to scripture."
And that from someone outside the Christian faith.

      Personally, Stott mentored me through his books, especially his Magnus Opus, <em>The Cross of Christ</em>. The man possessed the rare combination of first-rate scholarship, lucid and compelling prose, and godly pastoral wisdom. He could parse Greek phrases with rigor and precision, and argue fine points of doctrine with agility and exactitude, but he never lost sight of the biblical imperative to live the truth, not just to know it. His genius, indeed, was application: <em>How then shall we live</em>? Truth that does not work its way into our hearts, our tongues, our eyes, our feet, our hands, was dead.

      But truth that takes hold of us and leads us into intimacy with Jesus, obedience to him, and Kingdom work for him and with him – that is living. Stott had a living faith. Though he is gone, his influence will live on for many years – indeed, I believe it will grow.
And of course, he’s doing just fine.

      Billy Graham said on Wednesday, "The evangelical world has lost one of its greatest spokesmen, and I have lost one of my close personal friends and advisers. I look forward to seeing him again when I go to heaven."

      Me too.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>356</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-07-29 19:23:10</wp:post_date>
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		<title>Why I Volunteer</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/08/19/why-i-volunteer/</link>
		<pubDate>Sat, 20 Aug 2011 04:46:07 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[              <a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/church-2a1.jpg"><img class="size-medium wp-image-366 aligncenter" title="New Life Church, Duncan, BC" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/church-2a1-192x300.jpg" alt="" width="192" height="300" /></a>     

      The church is the greatest volunteer organization on earth. So vital are volunteers to the mission and ministry - indeed, the very existence - of the church that any church that loses them soon stalls, folds, and dies. Ministry simply can't get done without you.

     Volunteerism is so much the heart of our church, New Life, that we make it a condition of hiring: we unapologetically ask every staff member to work beyond their paid hours. On average, each staff volunteers at the church 5-10 hours a week. The little speech I make when we hire someone goes like this: "The ministries at New Life rise or fall on its volunteers - on good people willing to give gladly and generously of their time, talent, and money. We're asking you to do the same - indeed, to go first and set an example. If you only want to work for a paycheque, this isn't the place for you."

     I was struck this week by the thought that Jesus was the ultimate volunteer. He willingly came to earth to do the redeeming work of his Father, and received no earthly reward for it. He gave up first heaven, and then even his day job, to undertake a messy and massive task that cost him everything. He wasn't paid for it. He wasn't forced into it. He wasn't even thanked for it.
He volunteered to do it, and he did it all with joy.

     That's whose example we follow, however modestly.

     Every church needs volunteers. Quite simply, we can't do church without them, without you.]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>The Gospel in Motion</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/08/27/the-gospel-in-motion-2/</link>
		<pubDate>Sat, 27 Aug 2011 23:21:34 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=394</guid>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[         

[caption id="attachment_379" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Cheryl Bear and Kidzone"]<a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/323666_10150779485155245_881685244_20744128_1978836_o.jpg"><img class="size-medium wp-image-379" title="Chery Bear with New Life Kidzone" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/323666_10150779485155245_881685244_20744128_1978836_o-300x229.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="229" /></a>[/caption]

 

          This week our church ministered alongside First Nations musician and evangelist Cheryl Bear and her family, and I watched God answer our prayers that through their ministry and presence the Kingdom of God would become a little more visible in the Cowichan Valley. The fulfilment of that prayer was especially obvious Wednesday evening on the Native reservation. Food. Music. Games. Friendship. Laughter.

          All night, the gospel was spoken, sung, lived out, and set in motion.

         Cheryl and Randy Barnetson (Bear is Cheryl’s clan and stage name) and their sons Paul, Randall and Justice, are prophets to the church and priests to the Nations. As prophets, they speak God’s blunt truth. As priests, they disclose God’s tender heart. Cheryl and Randy shared on Tuesday night, at our church, that many of our assumptions about Indigenous people are completely erroneous and have contributed to our impotence in reaching them. Then Cheryl spoke on Wednesday night, on the rez, about Jesus’ deep deep love for all people and his power to save and to heal. Afterward, men and women and children crowded around her and Randy and the boys to meet them and hear more.

           Cheryl said something that simultaneously encouraged me and devastated me: that in the over 400 First Nations communities they have visited in the past 3 years, only in the Cowichan Valley has she seen the church present on the reservation. I am thankful that we have walked through this door. But I am heartbroken that so few others even attempted it.

           But it took us this long to get this far, and we have a considerable distance to go yet. I pray all of us grow in our understanding that the gospel is for all people – every tribe and tongue and nation, as the Bible frequently puts it. And that we are <em>sent</em> with good news, not merely asked to caretake it. God has made us ambassadors, not custodians, of the gospel. God sends us out to “preach good news to all nations.”

          None of us are exempt. All of us have a role.

           Are you setting the gospel in motion?]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>394</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-08-27 16:21:34</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-08-27 23:21:34</wp:post_date_gmt>
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		<category domain="category" nicename="first-nations"><![CDATA[First Nations]]></category>
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		<title>Is This the Girl I Carried?</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/09/03/is-this-the-girl-i-carried/</link>
		<pubDate>Sat, 03 Sep 2011 23:55:47 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=402</guid>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ <a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/100_2973.jpg"><img class="size-medium wp-image-404 aligncenter" title="Mark &amp; Sarah" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/100_2973-265x300.jpg" alt="" width="265" height="300" /></a>

My mother used to sing, in a scattershot way (she forgot entire lines and stitched the holes together by humming and mumbling), songs from Fiddler on the Roof. I grew up listening to her, in her low alto like a man’s baritone, declaiming, “If I were a rich man…,” arms akimbo, kick-stepping like she was leading a line dance at some bar mitzvah. And I can still see her moving about the house in sweeping motions, crooning, “match-maker, match maker make me a match, find me a find, catch me a catch,” filling in with gibberish words she couldn’t recall.

But she would tear up when singing “Sunrise, Sunset.” Sometimes she’d stop mid-phrase, words catching in a thickness of emotion. I didn’t understand why. She said I would one day.

That day would be Wednesday.

Cheryl and I took our girls to Chemainus Theater’s excellent production of Fiddler on the Roof the night before I drove Sarah to the airport and kissed her goodbye. She’s off to university in Quebec. When Tevye, Fiddler’s bewildered father, began to sing at his eldest daughter’s wedding the opening line from that song - Is this the little girl I carried? - I lost it. I sat in my chair trying to hold myself in one piece. And then the chorus came and sent me over the edge:

Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laden with happiness and tears

I know the sadness of sorrow is great. But the sadness of happiness is great, too: to have loved and been loved, deeply, and then to endure the inevitable separations and losses life brings. Love makes us vulnerable. Simply, in love we wound easily.

So forgive me if you notice me limping slightly, moving slower.

Don’t misunderstand: I’m thrilled with and for Sarah. She is a beautiful woman of faith and courage. She’s always had an appetite for adventure, and I knew that God gave her to us – as he does with all children - to shape her heart, not supress her personality. I sensed from early on that she would leave us sooner than later, chasing some big wild dream. So be it.

Still, there’s no preparing. I stood Thursday morning at the airport security gate, rummaging for something wise to say. Nothing came. Only, “I love you. I’ll miss you. I’m proud of you.”

Which, I guess, is wisdom enough.

And then, just like that, the little girl I once carried walked away. I returned to my car, feeling tremendously old. Feeling the sadness of happiness. Wishing for nothing to be otherwise, and yet, and yet….
O mother, now I understand.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>402</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-09-03 16:55:47</wp:post_date>
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		<title>booking</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/booking/</link>
		<pubDate>Tue, 03 Jan 2012 04:52:22 +0000</pubDate>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[Booking info]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>529</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2012-01-02 20:52:22</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2012-01-03 04:52:22</wp:post_date_gmt>
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		<title>What I did this weekend:</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/09/10/what-i-did-this-weekend/</link>
		<pubDate>Sun, 11 Sep 2011 03:30:35 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=410</guid>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/photo.jpg"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-412" title="Driftwood Fence" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/photo-300x251.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="251" /></a>

Here's something I built this weekend. It's yet one more bonus of living on the West Coast: all the opportunities to co-create with God. He provides the raw materials, you bring a little elbow grease and an artistic hunch, and it's amazing what you can do together in an afternoon.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>410</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-09-10 20:30:35</wp:post_date>
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		<title>Life Without Veils</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/09/10/life-without-veils/</link>
		<pubDate>Sun, 11 Sep 2011 03:25:51 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=416</guid>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[  <a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/Twin-Towers-911.jpg">  <img class="size-medium wp-image-422 aligncenter" title="Twin Towers 9/11" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/Twin-Towers-911-300x239.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="239" /></a>

This Sunday is the 10<sup>tb</sup> anniversary of the terrorist attacks on New York’s Twin Towers. Iconic photos of smoke and fire billowing from those glittering buildings are indelibly stamped in most our heads. Our sadness and sense of vulnerability remains close to the bone.

            This Sunday is the 28<sup>th</sup> anniversary of the incorporation of the church I pastor. Twenty-eight years ago, a small band of faithful Christ-followers signed a deed that established New Life Community Baptist. We didn’t meet then where we do now, but a group of committed people – some still in our midst – bound and loosed on earth what was bound and loosed in heaven. All of us today are heirs of their faith and courage.

            To them I feel an abiding thankfulness.

            What a perfect Sunday to be in church.

            Twenty-eight years ago, the people of<em> New Life</em> home met together for the very first time. Those who initiated that meeting made a declaration that, as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. They chose to live lives defined by deepest reality.

            And ten years ago, all North America woke up, if only briefly, to that deepest reality. For a split second, we <em>got it</em>: Life is about more than the latest reno or vacation or clothing purchase or pay raise. The Sunday after 9/11, churches throughout our continent were filled to standing room only. Tens of millions of people who otherwise didn’t pay any attention to deepest reality were, for a breath or two, utterly gripped by it.

            And then most fell back asleep.

            September 11, 1983 established an ensign. It announced on behalf of a few people that the Kingdom of God would reign in a little corner of Duncan.

            September 11, 2001 pulled back a veil. It revealed to millions of people a reality most ignored most the time: life is very precious and very fragile. And only God and his Kingdom can redeem its preciousness and protect its fragility. Everything else is an illusion.  Money, status, popularity, power – none of these things suffices. None can even scratch the surface.

            God alone redeems.

            God alone protects.

            This 9/11, may churches everywhere be filled to standing room only, and may the veil be pulled back once again.

            And this 9/11, may New Life be filled to standing room only, in celebration that for 28 years we have tried to live with no veils at all.

Shalom

Mark]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>416</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-09-10 20:25:51</wp:post_date>
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		<title>Ancient But Never Old</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/09/18/ancient-but-never-old/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 19 Sep 2011 04:02:58 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=429</guid>
		<description></description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/isaiah-scroll.jpg"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-432" title="Isaiah Scroll" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/isaiah-scroll-300x158.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="158" /></a>Last week that phrase popped into my head and, straightway, out my mouth. I thought it and said it in the context of a conversation with the other two pastors and our Chairman, Barry Lockwood. We were discussing that the core message and ministry of the Church never changes – it has always been and forever will be about God seeking fallen people, in love, to forgive them and restore them in Jesus Christ. This has been our message for 2000 years. It will be our message for however long the church remains on this earth. And yet we are called and equipped by God’s own Spirit to find ways to incarnate this message afresh, so that people living here and now can understand and respond to it.

            That’s when the phrase popped: ancient but never old. The good news is not some new-fangled hot-off-the-press thing. It is deeply ancient – rooted, enduring, venerable. Its antiquity, far from diminishing its value, heightens it. Just as rare coins increase in value with each passing year, so the gospel’s beauty and worth becomes all the more apparent as it is held alongside the trivialities and banalities, the frantic emptiness, of our own age.

            This truth is ancient. But it’s never old. It’s never stale. It’s never tired. It’s never out-of-date, obsolete, or old-fashioned. The good news is still news – an attention-grabbing event happening right now as we speak. From culture to culture the whole world over, the gospel is still breaking into sin-blighted hearts and transforming them. The ancient but never old news from the Middle East – Christ died for sinners, of which I am the worst – is fresher than the latest news from the Middle East – Gadhafi’s fall, or whatever.  Fresher than any news anywhere anytime.

            God has entrusted us with the only news that stays new no matter how old it gets – indeed, that stays new precisely because it is ancient, not some swiftly fading fad.

            Ask God to fill you again with humble gratitude that his ancient but never old truth swept down into your life. And ask God to fill you anew with a sense of the enormous privilege that he has called you to be a herald of this truth.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>429</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-09-18 21:02:58</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-09-19 04:02:58</wp:post_date_gmt>
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		<title>On the Trail of St. Patrick</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/10/10/on-the-trail-of-st-patrick/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 10 Oct 2011 22:47:13 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ 

                                                             <img title="Celtic Cross - Glendalough Ireland" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/44473_469471086170_697216170_7057807_3216868_n1-170x300.jpg" alt="" width="170" height="300" />

I'm currently in Ireland, in the lovely seaside town of Bangor, a suburb of Belfast. I started the week here, then drove down the coastline to Dublin to view the book of Kells and other historical wonders, then spent a night in Armagh, with its rolling green hills and red brick mills. I'm back here now in Bangor, to do a week of teaching.

            This past week I have been on a guided tour of the St. Patrick Trail, led by Arrow Leadership's CEO Carson Pue. It's been a fascinating and faith-building journey. We've gone from the bay in Northern Ireland - Strangford Lough - where Patrick first made landfall in the country, to the place, not far from there, where he lies buried beneath a flat rock, shaped as God made it except for Patrick's name chiseled atop. And we visited several of the monasteries and churches he established, including the cathedral in Armagh where he is listed as the first pastor.

            Of all I've learned about his life and times (Carson is an expert, and just finishing a book on Patrick), two things stand out. First, unlike other monks, Patrick never intended his monasteries to be cloisters where monks lived sheltered lives of quiet scholarship: he intended them as boot camps where monks were trained up and sent out as evangelists. This is a brilliant model for the church. Too often we regard church as our refuge, a place to escape the world, rather than as our training ground, a place to prepare to subvert and win the world. More than ever, we need to measure the church's success, not by its attendance records, but by its obedience factor; not by its seating capacity, but by its sending capacity.

            Second, Patrick taught his monks to choose, long before they ever arrived in the place they were sent, the values by which they would live. In that way, the world would not define them. Patrick chose a life of purity, integrity, humility, simplicity and courage in a  culture where most of that was lacking. In his day, he had "rock-star status" - Carson's phrase - women threw themselves at him, chieftains and pretty kings offered him land and wealth. He never indulged any of it. He had resolved long before to be satisfied with Christ alone. It was this resolve, more than anything else, that empowered Patrick and his monks to effectively Christianize within a single generation a deeply pagan culture. This, too, is a good model for the church. Some of Patrick's counter-cultural approach to living the faith would strengthen us, within and without, and be a more effective way to reach the world.

<a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/44473_469471086170_697216170_7057807_3216868_n1.jpg"></a>]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_date>2011-10-10 15:47:13</wp:post_date>
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		<title>The Stories We Tell Ourselves</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/10/29/the-stories-we-tell-ourselves/</link>
		<pubDate>Sun, 30 Oct 2011 04:21:41 +0000</pubDate>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/BelfastRevolutionary1.jpg"><img class="alignleft size-full wp-image-453" title="Belfast Revolutionary" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/BelfastRevolutionary1.jpg" alt="" width="160" height="120" /> </a><a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/BelfastWanted.jpg"><img class="alignleft size-full wp-image-446" title="Belfast Wanted" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/BelfastWanted.jpg" alt="" width="160" height="120" /></a> <a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/PeoplesArmy2.jpg"><img class="alignleft size-full wp-image-450" title="PeoplesArmy" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/PeoplesArmy2.jpg" alt="" width="160" height="120" /></a>

On a recent trip to Ireland, my host gave me a guided tour of the Belfast murals. A whole section of that city, like Chemainus, the city next door to my town, tells its history in pictorial form: large bright depictions of key events and personages emblazon the sides of buildings. But unlike our sister city, the Belfast story is grim, bloody, and heavily slanted on one side of the sectarian divide or the other. It is a montage of outrage and vendetta, almost entirely preoccupied with the time of the “Troubles,” a nearly 30-year stretch, from 1969 (though with much deeper roots) to 1998 (though with ongoing repercussions), when Catholics and Protestants clashed violently over their very different visions of Ireland’s national identity and destiny. It’s much more complex than that, as any Irishman would be quick to tell you – there are layers upon layers of political, cultural, educational, economic, and class issues involved - but for simplicity’s sake that’s as good a summary as any.

            Most of these paintings, both in the Protestant sector and the Catholic one, are freshly done, though the subject matter of most dates back to the 70s. The same meta-narrative is painted and repainted, so that a new generation learns it by heart. Every day, as people walk and drive past, the images of their heroes and martyrs, villains and Judases, loom large, shaping public identity and imagination. The images recall the past, but determine the future.

            The story is essentially the same, regardless of which side of the very real divide – a 12-foot-high wall topped with coiled barbed wire – you’re standing on: <em>we are innocent, righteous, and fair, and our enemies are treacherous, evil, and cruel</em>. <em>We love peace and they love war</em>. The Catholics say it about the Protestants, and the Protestants say it about the Catholics.

             I found the experience profoundly sobering, how two people can look at a single event and, depending on the accident of their birth, render completely opposite verdicts on it.

And I found sobering the power of story. We are, in many ways, the sum of the stories we tell ourselves. Our sense of who we are – our place in the world, our rightness and virtue, or worthlessness and bad luck, or victimhood, or entitlement - is tied to what story we believe, and the story we believe is the story we keep repeating.

            The gospel has been described as a better story than all the ones we might otherwise hear or speak. It is a story grand and sweeping and beautiful – of a God who creates in love and for love, of a creation that rebels and sins and runs away, of a God who pursues his creation to the ends of the earth and gives himself wholly to win her back, and who spares no expense to restore his creation to its original design.

It’s a good story.

The world is trying to tell us a different one, one that diminishes us, confuses us, misleads us, divides us. Let’s resolve to tell ourselves the good story, the gospel story, often enough, vividly enough, truthfully enough, that it displaces all the lesser stories, and shapes who we really are.]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>Let Wisdom Speak</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/10/29/let-wisdom-speak/</link>
		<pubDate>Sun, 30 Oct 2011 04:55:55 +0000</pubDate>
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<p style="text-align: right;"> </p>
 

The elders at the church where I pastor met this week for an EhD – an Elder Half Day. We hold these monthly, a 3-hour gathering for the sole purpose of exploring a single theme. An EhD involves 3 things: biblical exploration of that theme; a guided but free-flowing discussion on it; and prayer – lots of prayer.

      This EhD was on the older generation. That’s a vague way to describe an age group, but roughly it refers to those in their mid-60s and beyond. This is the fastest growing age demographic in Canada. For example, in the 70s, 8% of the population was over the age of 65. In the next 2 years, 16% will be. But because Canada’s population has grown in those 40 years, that doesn’t tell the whole story. Try this:
      • In 1971, 1,750,000 men and women in the country were 65 or older.
      • Today, it’s 5 million.
      • By 2016, it will be close to 6 million.

      This is one of those realities we ignore to our own peril. Thanks to the persistence of my chairman, himself approaching this magic age, our elders stopped ignoring it. His heart on the issue distills to a key question: How do we honour and engage the older generation? Or to phrase it more like he does: “How do we heed the wisdom of those who have lived long, and how do we release it for the sake of the whole church?”

      Indeed.

      We started the conversation this week. And we got excited. One of the participants emailed me after to say it was the most inspiring EhD he’s been at yet (and he’s been to all of them).

      What got us excited? That’s simple: the sheer wealth of life experience and spiritual depth bound up in the older generation. They know things. They’ve seen things. They’ve been through things. Theirs is a wisdom, not of books and theories and guesses, but of sorrow and joy, trial and error, triumph and defeat. It’s been quarried from real rock. It’s been forged in real fire. It’s been tempered in real water. They have, in their hearts and bodies, gone places the young just speculate about but feel entitled to opinions on anyhow. The great tragedy is that those who have earned their opinions, and honed them to a fine wisdom, are so seldom consulted. And they rarely offer their thoughts unbidden.

      Yet we need this generation like never before.

      Emerson said the great need of his day was for the centuries to speak to the hours. In our day, may at least the decades speak to the years. Let wisdom speak, and may we all be listening.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_date>2011-10-29 21:55:55</wp:post_date>
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		<title>The Voices in Your Head</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/11/05/the-voices-in-your-head/</link>
		<pubDate>Sat, 05 Nov 2011 19:02:01 +0000</pubDate>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[Cheryl and I watched <em>The Beaver</em> recently, a strange piece of movie-making starring Mel Gibson and Jodie Foster (who directed it). It did poorly in theaters and is certainly not flying off shelves in DVD format. Gibson turns in an Oscar-worthy performance, though his current <em>persona non grata</em> status in Hollywood rules out any such recognition. And anyway, it’s an odd tale, at points straining credibility: a domestic drama by turns goofy and tragic. In places, it is dark as a Hamlet, and in others as preposterous as a Marx Brothers slapstick.

            The story: Walter Black (Mel Gibson) has been in a two-year depression so deep that he’s lost all bearings. He sits and stares. His exasperated wife, Meredith (Jodie Foster), gives him the boot, to the dismay of their younger son and the approval of their older one. Walter plans to drink himself into a stupor and then end it all. But on his course to oblivion, he discovers in a dumpster <em>The Beaver</em> – a toothy whiskered hand puppet with coal-black eyes and fake mangy fur. Fitted onto his left hand, <em>The Beaver</em> takes on a life of its own. It begins talking to Walter in an Aussie accent, scolding, consoling, cajoling. Suddenly, Walter is back, and then some: ideal father, romantic husband, brilliant corporate executive, overnight media sensation. Only, it’s not really Walter: the sad little man is still curled up deep inside himself, terrified and bewildered. It’s <em>The Beaver</em>, who speaks for Walter and to him.

            Well, 2 hours of this gets a bit much.

            But all through, I kept thinking of David’s thrice-repeated refrain in Psalms 42 and 43:

Why are you downcast, O my soul?
    Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
    for I will yet praise him,
    my Savior and my God (42:5,11; 43:5).

David is talking to David. David’s God-soaked self is talking to David’s God-starved self. The man who can’t get out of bed is being chided and coaxed, prodded and wooed, welcomed and challenged, by the man who can advance troops and scale walls (Psalm 18:29). The man who’s met God exhorts the man who’s lost him. The man who knows he’s loved whispers to the man who feels abandoned.

            I do this. I don’t resort to hand puppets for it, but I let that part of me who is intimate with God speak to that part of me who is estranged from him. If I don’t, I stumble into darkness. If I hand the bullhorn to that part of me that is doubtful, confused, self-pitying, blaming (you get the idea), I am in big trouble before noon. But if I put the microphone at the lips of that part of me that is trusting, clear-minded, confident, responsible, we do just fine.

            Admit it: we all have voices in our head.

            Which one do you let do the talking?]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_date>2011-11-05 12:02:01</wp:post_date>
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		<title>Struggling into Wakefulness</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/11/09/struggling-into-wakefulness/</link>
		<pubDate>Thu, 10 Nov 2011 04:58:22 +0000</pubDate>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/seven_dwarfs.jpg"><img class="size-medium wp-image-474 aligncenter" title="The Seven Dwarfs" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/seven_dwarfs-300x244.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="244" /></a>

I had a funny idea (it happens every so often): to preach a sermon series called Against the dwarfs (as a sequel to our church’s current series, Against the gods). It would be 7 sermons that take the dominant trait of each of Snow White’s Seven Dwarfs - Sneezy, Sleepy, Dopey, Happy, Grumpy, Bashful, Doc – and explore how that trait represents something amiss in our culture: our slavish dependence on the pharmaceutical-medical complex (Doc), or our chronic apathy (Sleepy), or our media-induced and substance-enhanced false cheer (Happy), or our over-consumption of over-refined foods that deprives us of natural antigens (Sneezy), or our destructive gullibility (Dopey), and so on.

I’m only half kidding.

The Against the gods series has given me fresh eyes to see how our culture warps or counterfeits God’s good gifts. The world, Paul says, tries to “squeeze us into its mould” (Romans 12:2; J.B. Philips version). Preaching about the gods – Mammon, Eros, Bacchus, and the like - has sharpened my discernment of that. I can see with greater clarity the many jarring misalignments between the Kingdom and the world.

I am not by nature a finger-pointer. I don’t find demons under every stone. I don’t walk around in scornful disapproval of all I see. But I do have a growing sense that we are being half-seduced, half-bludgeoned into agreement with beliefs and practices that wither the life Jesus came to give us.

Let’s resolve otherwise.

A friend of mine recently drew my attention to Luke 9:32, part of the account of Jesus’ Transfiguration. J.B. Philips (again) renders it well: “Peter and his companions had been overcome by sleep and it was as they struggled into wakefulness that they saw the glory of Jesus.”

It was as they struggled into wakefulness that they saw the glory of Jesus.

That is a good measure how awake you are: how clearly you see the glory of Jesus. Does his glory – who he is and what he’s done – shine brighter and brighter in your eyes? Or are you having trouble seeing? We used to sing a hymn with this potent line, “Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in his wonderful face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of his glory and grace.”

If you’re finding the opposite – that the earth gets brighter as Jesus fades – then struggle into wakefulness.]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>You&#039;ll Never be Replaced but....</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/11/19/youll-never-be-replaced-but/</link>
		<pubDate>Sat, 19 Nov 2011 23:15:46 +0000</pubDate>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/Web-30.jpg"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-483" title="Me and my bike" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/Web-30-300x199.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="199" /></a>I’ve been thinking a lot about my upcoming sabbatical starting February 1. I’ve been thinking about how the staff and church where I pastor will fare without me. And I’ve been trying to do as Paul advises in Romans 12:3 - to not think of myself more highly than I ought, but rather to judge myself soberly. Paul’s Greek word for soberly can be rendered sanely. Have a sane, not a crazy cockeyed, view of yourself, he’s saying. Look clear-eyed at who you are, with neither hubris nor false modesty. Know your strengths and weaknesses. Know your limits. Know your place.

     So I said to myself, self, you are not irreplaceable.

     And self, or Spirit, or somesuch, answered back: No, you are irreplaceable. You’re just not indispensable.

     I’d never before considered the difference between those two things, irreplaceability and indispensability. I always thought they were the same thing.

     They’re not. Everyone is, by definition, irreplaceable. There’s no one quite like you, or me. If I died or quit, I couldn’t be replaced. There are just not enough short bald motorcycle-riding, scuba-diving, loud-mouthed 51-year old pastor-writers with 3 children and a wife of 26 years named Cheryl available to step into the role.

     What a relief.

     But none of us is indispensable. Everyone, by the unbending laws of nature, will one day not be here, yet the world will still turn, tides will still ebb and flow, bad movies will still be made, and somewhere, someday, McDonald’s will serve its trillionth hamburger (they’re now around 250 billion).

    And all this without you.

    If I died or quit, the church could easily find someone to take my role, better than me in some ways, horrifically, tragically inadequate in others (it’s hard to imagine, for instance, anyone doing a better impersonation of a Scottish highlander).

     This little distinction helps me. We are all irreplaceable – which, to some measure, is good news: do we ever want another Idi Amin? If your dog died, and you got another, would you want every last quality of the last one replicated in the next one? If your spouse… well, you get where I’m going. We’re all irreplaceable.

     But we’re not a one of us indispensable – which, by all measures, is good news: do you want the business or ministry or family that you are part of now to cease to exist, or to fall to pieces, when you’re not here?

     So for five and a half months starting in February, I’ll have to miss my church, and they me, and realize that there’s no fitting substitute for any of us.

     No one will replace you.

     No one will replace me.

     And for those same 5 months, we’ll all do just fine.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_date>2011-11-19 15:15:46</wp:post_date>
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		<category domain="category" nicename="life-in-christ"><![CDATA[Life in Christ]]></category>
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		<title>A Theology of Hangovers</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/11/27/a-theology-of-hangovers/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 28 Nov 2011 01:05:41 +0000</pubDate>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[   <a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/hangover-hungover-dog-with-hangover11.jpg"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-490" title="Hangover" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/hangover-hungover-dog-with-hangover11-300x206.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="206" /></a>
<p style="text-align: right;"> </p>
 

      I’m writing this while nursing a hangover.

      I better explain.

      At our church’s staff meeting this week, we were discussing how God gets our attention: how information translates into revelation, and we finally cry out, “I get it!” Susan, my assistant, made a stunning remark: “There is a little revelation in every hangover.” Susan knows this personally – she celebrated 6 years sobriety recently; and she knows it vocationally – she’s been at the helm of our church’s recovery ministries the past 3 years.

      There is a little revelation in every hangover. There awaits every spending spree a bill to pay. There lies the back end of every wild party a mess to clean up. Built into every session of internet porn is a bitter aftertaste. Mixed in, at no extra charge, to every 12-pack of beer and every 26er of Vodka and every line of coke is a whirligig that spins you around and around and around until sky and earth and sea churn molten in your belly.

      And when you hold the bill, or stoop to pick up the garbage, or turn off the computer, or step off the whirligig, a small revelation bursts on your awareness. It may come in the form of grief, or longing, or resolve. It may come in the form of burning anger or harrowing sadness or piercing clarity. But at that moment, if only for a moment, you realize, This isn’t working. I can’t keep doing this. Enough is enough.

      That moment, alas, can come and go a dozen times, a hundred, before you ever actually do anything about it. But one day the weight of it nearly crushes you. All the little revelations accumulate into a truth so big, so inescapable, you must and you will obey it at all costs.

      Are you nursing a bit of a hangover? It might not be alcohol-induced. Maybe’s it’s gossip-induced. Anger-induced. Pride-induced. Maybe it’s from coveting, or envying, or self-pity. I’m using – you’ve figured this out by now - hangover in a very broad sense. I mean the downside of the upside, the sickening aftermath of what seemed like a good idea at the time, the unpleasant consequences of what was fun while it lasted.

      I write this while nursing a hangover. Mine? It’s induced by a habit I picked up way back and haven’t broken yet: to hear criticism, and think the worse. To hear someone’s unhappy, and conclude everyone is. To hear a single complaint, and add a chorus line. To race to worst case scenario on the strength of a mere shadow or rumor.

      It’s never got me anywhere. It’s never proven to be the case. It takes a lot of energy. It saps my strength to actually deal with the problem.

      But there’s a little bit of revelation in every hangover, and I’m about done with this.

      How’s your hangover coming along?]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_date>2011-11-27 17:05:41</wp:post_date>
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		<title>Con-vic-tion!</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/12/03/con-vic-tion/</link>
		<pubDate>Sat, 03 Dec 2011 18:29:43 +0000</pubDate>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=496</guid>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[I am seeing two broad and worrisome trends in the North American church today: a nitpicking, name-calling crankiness, and a shoulder-shrugging, yawn-stifling complacency. We have a surging tide of angry self-appointed prophets, and a sprawling mass of apathetic self-indulgent spectators.

            It’s not our finest hour.

            On the one side are the rigorists and dogmatists. They lather each other up, largely through blogs, into fits of vitriol. Their main activity is to ferret out and denounce anyone whose theology doesn’t line up neatly with their own. Their black list includes, variously, Mother Theresa, Billy Graham, Bill Hybels, Dallas Willard, Brennan Manning, Rick Warren, Richard Foster, and many others (and all who approve of those on the black list). In other words, the list includes men and women whom God has used to further his kingdom and deepen our faith. But never mind that. Somewhere, on page 303, say, of so-and-so’s book on such-and-such, he quotes a medieval mystic on prayer whose doctrine of salvation is, let’s say, quirky.

            Off with his head!

            Or at a conference in Toledo she appeared on the same platform as a mega-church pastor who endorsed a book by someone who once said something questionable.

            To the gallows!

            Or he wrote, in his very own words, something stupid and regrettable (as most of us are prone to do from time to time).

            Banish him!

            I even stumbled across my own name on one of these black lists. Last year, when I was preparing to speak at a well-known Christian university, I searched my name along with the name of the university to find out my speaking times. What popped up first was a website warning these university students against my dangerous thinking. My crime? I was friends of someone who was friends of someone who had been influenced by someone whose theology the writer found objectionable.

            I’m neither joking nor exaggerating.

            This is tiresome, foolhardy, and futile. It is the wrong fight. I am a great proponent of clear and biblical thinking, but this is not that. This is an exercise in hair-splitting that effectively shuts down the Great Conversation and replaces it with diatribes, jeers, and mud-raking. It is generating massive heat and almost no light.

            Then on the other side are those who are no more interested in theological inquiry than in learning Sanskrit. They don’t care about creed or doctrine: they just want to “be encouraged,” “feel good about” themselves, “be inspired by the sermon,” “enjoy the worship” – all phrases I’ve heard many times. It’s a faith cobbled together from hunches, slogans, emotions, but not much thought. It’s an elixir for the narcissist. This is a caricature of biblical faith, and provides no defense against error and no ballast against storm.

            I plead for us to transcend both dogmatism and complacency. And I know just the thing: conviction. What the most robust, winsome and effective Christ-followers have always had in spades is deep conviction. Here’s what that looks like: being willing to die for your beliefs, but never to kill for them. It’s being willing to face prison or torture for your faith, but to imprison or torture no one who refuses to share it.

            I think of Tevye, the father in Fiddler on the Roof, booming out the keystone of his life: “Tra-di-tion!” But in this case the keystone is Con-vic-tion!

            Conviction is when we are personally gripped and transformed by what we believe, and when we love to share those beliefs, but when we feel no compulsion to crusade for them, force them on others, or denounce those who think differently. Virtually, all holy wars spring, not from the overflow of belief, but from its deficiency. They are a way we overcompensate for doubt.

            Jesus said a Christ-like life, not the loudness of our pronouncements or the deepness of our feelings, is the primary evidence that we know him.

            That only grows in the soil of deep conviction.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>496</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-12-03 10:29:43</wp:post_date>
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		<title>Pray Every Way You Know How!</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/12/17/pray-every-way-you-know-how/</link>
		<pubDate>Sat, 17 Dec 2011 22:19:32 +0000</pubDate>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[The City of North Cowichan invited me again to pray for our mayor and council at their swearing-in ceremony. I have done this now four times over the last 9 years. The first time I did it was December 2002. The most recent time was this past Wednesday.

     I consider it a high honour. I am humbled to be asked to serve our community and its leaders in this way. And it is a fulfilment of what all of us are commanded to do anyway:

     I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone— for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. This is good, and pleases God our Savior, who wants all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth (1 Timothy 2:1-4).

     I like the forceful simplicity with which Eugene Peterson renders the first part of that: “The first thing I want you to do is pray. Pray every way you know how, for everyone you know. Pray especially for rulers and their governments to rule well….”

     On the four occasions I have prayed at these public ceremonies, not once has anyone set limits on the manner or content of my prayer. I assume and honour the need to be brief, but never has anyone restricted or vetted me, or insisted on some generic, one-size-fits-all prayer that would be palatable to people of all faiths or none. They just let me loose. I have always prayed in the name of Jesus. I have always woven biblical verses into my praying. I have always tried to pray both priestly blessing and prophetic warning. And I have always prayed thanks: for the beauty, freedom, safety and prosperity of our community, and for these men and women who are willing, for little pay and often little thanks, to serve us.

     But come back to what Paul writes to Timothy about praying for rulers. Paul wrote this during the reign of Nero – in fact, about midway through his reign, and most likely after the Great Fire of Rome for which Nero blamed and then executed Christians. Nero, though popular with many in his realm because of his grandiose generosity, was one of the most vicious, capricious, foolish, self-absorbed leaders who ever lived. He makes the late Moammar Gadhafi look like Nelson Mandela. Here is the account by the Roman historian Tacitus, himself no friend of Christians, of Nero’s cruelty toward Christians:

…an arrest was first made of all who pleaded guilty [to the charge of being Christ-followers]; then, upon their information, an immense multitude was convicted… Mockery of every sort was added to their deaths. Covered with the skins of beasts, they were torn by dogs and perished, or were nailed to crosses, or were doomed to the flames and burnt, to serve as a nightly illumination, when daylight had expired. Nero offered his gardens for the spectacle, and was exhibiting a show in the circus, while he mingled with the people in the dress of a charioteer or stood aloft on a car.

     Yet Paul, with not a trace of rancor, asks Christians to pray for this man and his regime.

     But that’s not the most amazing thing. This is: Paul connects our prayers, not only with peace for us, but with our evangelistic effectiveness. Our prayers for rulers, Paul suggests, further God’s desire for “all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth.” This is breathtaking. It means when we pray for leaders, we release God’s saving action in the world.

     And that, in the early church, is exactly what happened. Here is how the historian Will Durant describes it:

     There is no greater drama in human record than the sight of a few Christians, scorned or oppressed by a succession of emperors, bearing all trials with a fiery tenacity, multiplying quietly, building order while their enemies generated chaos, fighting the sword with the word, brutality with hope, and at long last defeating the strongest state that history has ever known. Caesar and Christ had met in the arena and Christ had won.

     We do not have in the Cowichan Valley, thank God, corrupt, treacherous leaders bent on destroying us. We do have in our community, by God’s grace, good, wise, just people ready to serve us. But how much more then should we pray for them - for rulers and their governments to rule well? We should pray, not only so that we have peaceful, quiet lives, but to release God’s saving action in the world.

     Our faithfulness in this will determine what later historians say about us.

     My community has, by God’s grace, good, wise, just people ready to serve all who live here. But how much more then should I pray for them - for rulers and their governments to rule well? I should pray, not only so that I have a peaceful, quiet life, but to release God’s saving action in the world.

     Your and my faithfulness in this will determine what later historians say about us.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>502</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-12-17 14:19:32</wp:post_date>
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		<title>Santa, That Old Legalist</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/12/20/santa-that-old-legalist/</link>
		<pubDate>Wed, 21 Dec 2011 02:16:36 +0000</pubDate>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/santa.jpg"><img class="alignleft size-full wp-image-510" title="santa" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/santa.jpg" alt="" width="259" height="194" /></a>

Two samples of the kind of letters children send to Santa Claus each year, c/o The North Pole:

Dear Santa:

You did not bring me anything good last year.
You did not bring me anything good the year before that.
This is your last chance

Alfred

*******

Dear Santa:

There are three little boys who live at our house. There is Jeffrey, he is 2. There is David, he is 4. And there is Norman, he is 7. Jeffrey is good some of the time. David is good some of the time. But Norman is good all of the time.
I am Norman.

The legend of Santa is rooted in the life of a real person, Saint Nicholas, the 4th Century Byzantine Bishop of Myra. He was renowned for his generosity, which had a distinct element of justice to it: one of his more famous and lavish acts of giving was to provide large dowries to three impoverished daughters of a pauper to spare the girls a life in prostitution.

The St. Nick legend morphed along the way, especially in the Netherlands and Scandinavia, but the Santa of modern imagination – the Santa of sleighs and reindeers and irrepressible jollity and chimney-invasions and an insatiable appetite for sugar cookies, the Ho Ho Hoing Santa who dandles little children on his knees while they whisper their consumerist fantasies in his ear - is shaped largely by Clement Clarke Moore’s 1823 Poem “The Night Before Christmas” (originally published anonymously as “A Visit from St. Nicholas”).

That really started the snowball rolling.

Something got lost along the way.

I’m not trying to spoil the fun – some of my favorite memories of my children when they were young was their annual visit with Santa down at the mall. But Santa has been co-opted by a consumerist conspiracy to subvert the Christian virtue of giving and replace it with the capitalist fetish for spending. That should give us all pause. The modern Santa has no continuity with the 4th Century Saint: he has become almost his nemesis. Modern Santa-hood eclipses ancient sainthood. It is hard to imagine, for instance, the modern Santa breaking the bank to rescue poor girls from the brothels.
But that’s not the worst of it.

This is: The Santa myth preaches a toxic form of legalism. Legalism is, in essence, the belief that everything I receive is owed to me because I earned it. In religion, legalism says that God owes me a good life here and now and salvation eternally because I earned it by my upright living. In economics, legalism is the idea that only the productive are deserving. In nature, it’s that only the fittest survive. In relationships, it’s that only the beautiful are happy.
And so on. Legalism reduces everything to a transaction: I’m owed something because I earned it.

The myth of Santa is incurably and irreducibly legalistic. At its heart it says he owes us gifts because we earned them by our good behavior: he’s making a list, he’s checking it twice….
That old legalist.

Don’t you see? A gift stops being a gift to the extent you’ve earned it. It’s just a reward. It’s remuneration. It’s compensation. It’s what you have coming to you. You did not bring me anything good last year. You did not bring me anything the year before that. This is your last chance.

Such thinking only makes sense in a world in the death grip of legalism.

But we live in a world that’s grace-soaked. In a stunning irony, it’s a lament in the book of Ecclesiastes that actually turns legalism on its head

The race is not to the swift
or the battle to the strong,
nor does food come to the wise
or wealth to the brilliant
or favor to the learned;
but time and chance happen to them all (Ecc. 9:11).

This is a lament sung in the key of despair. It is a complaint against some cosmic unfairness. But hear it through the filter of the gospel, and it becomes great good news. It means we live in a world where it’s possible to win races and battles and eat meals and receive money and favor that you never earned. The gospel would add that we get all this, not merely because time and chance happen to all, but because grace reigns. Grace soaks this sin-dark world, and breaks the grip of legalism. And no longer does the law of return have the last word.

Listen, I’m not saying go tell your wide-eyed 4-year-old that Santa is a fraud in the service of capitalistic greed.

But I am saying, tell them first, most, often and always the real Christmas story. Tell them about the real gift-giver, Jesus. Tell them about his grace – the gift we didn’t earn. Tell them about his best gift – himself, given at ultimate cost to himself but free to us. Tell them that, and make that the center of everything.

Merry Christmas indeed.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_id>507</wp:post_id>
		<wp:post_date>2011-12-20 18:16:36</wp:post_date>
		<wp:post_date_gmt>2011-12-21 02:16:36</wp:post_date_gmt>
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			<wp:comment_author><![CDATA[Santa Claus: The Spirit Of Anti-Christ | mgpcpastor&#039;s blog]]></wp:comment_author>
			<wp:comment_author_email></wp:comment_author_email>
			<wp:comment_author_url>http://mgpcpastor.com/2011/12/26/santa-claus-the-spirit-of-anti-christ/</wp:comment_author_url>
			<wp:comment_author_IP>72.233.96.176</wp:comment_author_IP>
			<wp:comment_date>2011-12-25 23:17:03</wp:comment_date>
			<wp:comment_date_gmt>2011-12-26 07:17:03</wp:comment_date_gmt>
			<wp:comment_content><![CDATA[[...] of those clad in red, Mark Buchanan gently reminds us why Santa Claus is the polar (see what I did there?) opposite of Jesus. From his [...] ]]></wp:comment_content>
			<wp:comment_approved>trash</wp:comment_approved>
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		<title>Deep Soul</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2011/12/25/deep-soul/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 26 Dec 2011 00:32:46 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markbuchanan.net/?p=515</guid>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ <a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/39884_432149001519_508616519_5011747_1379155_n.jpg"><img class="size-medium wp-image-517 aligncenter" title="Elderly People Crossing" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/39884_432149001519_508616519_5011747_1379155_n-225x300.jpg" alt="" width="225" height="300" /></a>

     We become old in a single day.

     It seems that abrupt. Our old man or old woman status comes as sudden and unbidden as rain on a wedding day. It arrives as unwelcome but unavoidable as the VISA bill after the shopping spree.

     The signs of decrepitude accumulate with alarming swiftness: one night you bed down youthful and nimble, the next day you wake up elderly and stiff. There you go, your skin a masterpiece of taut unblemished smoothness, vandalized by age until it’s blotched and withered and rough as lizard hide. Where did that smiling youth in the photo go, and why does he bear such little resemblance to the person in the mirror? We move from agility to debility, from keen recall to bumbling forgetfulness, from flesh tones to shades of grey, with nary a moment to catch our breath, which we have less of anyhow.

     I’m thinking these gloomy thoughts for two reasons. One, I’ve been nursing a sore hip for a few days. It just happened, just another of those bodily malfunctions that attend, with worrisome regularity and for no apparent cause, those of us of a certain age.

     The other reason is that my children are all home, or about to be: and they’re not children anymore. My son, whiskered and muscled, towers above me, and speaks in a deep man voice, and regales me with tales of things faraway and exotic. He makes his own way in the world, quite handily. He has skills I never acquired, knowledge I never attained, experiences I never tasted. I think he could probably hang a licking on me, but I don’t want to test the theory.

     And my daughters – one who still lives at home, the other who I hadn’t seen for nearly 4 months until this past Saturday, and have barely seen since – are both women. They are full of their own thoughts, opinions, convictions, dreams and, it seems, a mild disdain for any advice I care to offer. They carry themselves with poise and confidence.

     It is strange to feel so happy and creaky all at once. It is odd to be so proud of this man, these women, and in the same breath to feel so reduced and bewildered. One question I will ask God in heaven, if such things are permitted, or even needed: Why didn’t you give us a lengthier stretch of 20-something invincibility? Why couldn’t you have prolonged our prime for, oh, 50 years, or 60, so that any wisdom we attain by hard knocks and sheer longevity we’d get to apply with undimmed vigor?

     But no. God built into us inevitable physical and mental decline.
The more I face the reality of this, the more I savor the soul. It’s the only part of us that can become more vibrant and supple and beautiful with age. Or it can become bitter, shrivelled, ugly. That choice is almost exclusively up to us. We tend our own soul. And the soul, unlike the body, is not subject to inescapable decay, or guaranteed spontaneous betterment. I work out my body on a regular basis (doesn’t it show?), and though I believe this is important and part of my stewardship, all I’m doing is slowing down the inevitable. Biology is a ruthless taskmaster. Chronos, the time-god, is a heartless driver.

     But neither can touch the inmost places. That is our exclusive domain, to nurture or starve as we see fit. For this reason, the Apostle Paul writes: “…physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come” (1 Tim. 4:8).

     Question: Do you work out your soul with greater vigor and frequency than you do your body? Do you watch over what you feed your soul more carefully than what you do your body? 

     As we celebrate the coming of the One who makes all things new, and as we enter a new year, would you commit to one thing above all: to receive all Christ gives you in order to become all Christ intends for you? Would you make your main business the cultivation of a deep soul?

     May he bless you, and make you a blessing.
     Merry Christmas.]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>Making All Things New</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2012/01/02/making-all-things-new/</link>
		<pubDate>Tue, 03 Jan 2012 00:09:35 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[                                                                       <a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/calvin-and-hobbes.jpg"><img title="calvin-and-hobbes" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/calvin-and-hobbes-300x227.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="227" /></a>

The earth orbits the sun at a good clip. It fairly bustles, travelling at nearly 67,000 miles per hour, slowing or accelerating slightly depending on where it is in the arc of its ellipses. That ellipses is not the reason we have seasons - the 23.4o tilt of the earth on its rotating axis causes those – but it may be a factor in the intensity of the seasons. At any rate, earth, swinging through its orbit at breakneck speed (while also spinning on its axis at over 1000 miles per hour), clocks around the sun in just slightly over 364 days (our calendars compensate for the difference by adding every 4 years a day to February).

            Why am I inflicting this amateur, armchair lesson in schoolboy astronomy on you?

            To make a simple point: the New Year is actually a new year. December 31st marks the completion of another circuit around the sun – it’s the tape across that year’s finish line - and January 1st fires the starting gun for the next lap. (Well, more or less: the dates are arbitrary. There’s no fixed cosmic starting block. A more intuitive way to mark the annual cycles would be to measure them from solstice to solstice - winter or summer - or equinox to equinox - spring or fall - but we’ve chosen our way and we’re sticking with it).

            Which is all to say, the new year is actually a new year. It is not some mere human invention. Something ends, and something begins. Something dies, and something is birthed. The old has gone, the new has come. So those cartoon images we attach to the moment –the year that’s dying depicted as a hoary, decrepit old man, the year that’s arriving portrayed as a plump, diapered baby – are not far off the mark. And it’s fitting we countdown the last minute of the old year, that we toot the horn and blow the fireworks and, at the stroke of midnight, kiss our spouse.

            Because it really is a new year.

            How fitting that God, who made the planets and the stars the laws by which they operate, loves newness. He is the God who, at any point, with nothing more to work with than our willingness, can change stuckness into forward motion, despair into hope, fear into courage, death into life. He is the God who makes beauty from ashes. He is the God who can bury the old and create the new.

          <a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/calvin-and-hobbes.jpg"></a> “And he that sat upon the throne said, ‘Behold, I make all things new’” (Rev. 21:5).

            And he does this with nothing more to work with than our willingness.

            And so another New Year’s tradition is appropriate: the making of resolutions. I plan to take stock of what’s grown old, tired, brittle, shrivelled, mangy in me – in my heart and mind and marriage and parenting and vocation and relationships - and then to ask God to make all things new.

           Would you consider joining me? As we begin the New Year, let’s make it truly a new year.]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_date>2012-01-02 16:09:35</wp:post_date>
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		<title>Because You Say So</title>
		<link>http://markbuchanan.net/2012/01/08/because-you-say-so/</link>
		<pubDate>Mon, 09 Jan 2012 03:15:25 +0000</pubDate>
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/The_Great_and_the_Little_Fishes.jpg"><img class="size-medium wp-image-536 aligncenter" title="Fisherman with full nets" src="http://markbuchanan.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/The_Great_and_the_Little_Fishes-300x229.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="229" /></a></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">Sometimes the only motivation for doing anything is that Jesus says so. Otherwise, we’re bankrupt. We simply can’t muster up the vision or energy to try one more time, to care for one more second. The only resolve we can make is to quit. In our eyes, this thing – this ministry, this marriage, this family, this friendship, this job – has come to a shuddering halt. It is over. It is dead. It is a black hole. All our efforts to change it have failed.</p>
It’s those times when all that can keep us keeping on is that Jesus says so.

Luke records this encounter:

Jesus said to Simon, “Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch.”

Simon answered, “Master, we’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets” (Luke 5:4-5).

But because you say so. That moment can stand for so many of our own: Master, I’ve worked hard all night, all week, all year, all this decade, and haven’t caught a thing. I’ve accomplished zip. My spouse is still unkind. My finances are still a mess. My friendships are still shallow. My faith is still flimsy. My sobriety is still sketchy.

Master, this isn’t working.

And everything in us wants to walk away.

Except Jesus standing there, looking at us with those eyes. And he says, “Try one more time.”

Weariness floods us. Frustration grips us. Anger overwhelms us. Instantly in our mind, rising quickly to our lips, is bitter complaint: “Are you kidding? Do you know how hard I’ve tried? Why would you treat me this way? Why would you even ask?”

But he just keeps standing there, looking.

“Alright. Alright. Okay. This is useless. This is futile. But because you say so, I will.”

You know how this story goes: suddenly, the effort is not futile. At long last, and all at once, letting down the nets accomplishes what it’s supposed to. Effort produces results, abundantly:

When they had done so, they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to break.

So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them, and they came and filled both boats so full that they began to sink (Luke 5:6-7)

Now they’ve got good problems to deal with - breaking nets, sinking boats, more work to do than hands to help; success has its own set of complications.

But they’d never have experienced that success except, against all instinct, they did what Jesus said.

Have you given up on something? Maybe you’ve invested heroic, repeated effort, but have nothing to show for it. Does the thought of trying again fill you with weariness? Does it just seem easier to admit defeat and move on?

But what if Jesus is asking you to try again? Try to make this marriage work one more time. Try to reconcile with your father one more time. Try to connect with your daughter one more time. Try trusting one more time. Try forgiving one more time?

Because he says so, will you? What if this is the time the nets actually fill?]]></content:encoded>
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		<wp:post_date>2012-01-08 19:15:25</wp:post_date>
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