Lord of the years that are left to me...

When I stand at the judgment seat of Christ

And He shows me His plan for me,

The Plan of my life as it might have been

Had He had His way, and I see



How I blocked Him here, and I checked Him there,

And I would not yield my will

Will there be grief in my Savior's eyes,

Grief, though He loves me still?



He would have me rich, and I stand there poor,

Stripped of all but His grace,

While memory runs like a hunted thing

Down the paths I cannot retrace.



Then my desolate heart will well-nigh break

With the tears that I cannot shed;

I shall cover my face with my empty hands,

I shall bow my uncrowned head...



Lord of the years that are left to me,

I give them to Thy hand;

Take me and break me, mould me to

The pattern Thou hast planned!



~Martha Snell Nicholson



Bruce Larson on fellowship.

The neighborhood bar is possibly the best counterfeit there is for the fellowship Christ wants to give His church. It’s an imitation, dispensing liquor instead of grace, escape rather than reality, but it is a permissive, accepting, and inclusive fellowship. It is unshockable. It is democratic. You can tell people secrets and they usually don’t tell others or even want to. The bar flourishes not because most people are alcoholics, but because God has put into the human heart the desire to know and be known, to love and be loved, and so many seek a counterfeit at the price of a few beers.  ~ Bruce Larson