Nancy Moser

Nancy Moser is the award-winning author of twenty inspirational novels. Her genres include contemporary stories including John 3:16 and Time Lottery, and historical novels of real women-of-history including Just Jane (Jane Austen) and Washington's Lady (Martha Washington). Nancy and her husband Mark live in the Midwest. She’s earned a degree in architecture, traveled extensively in Europe, and has performed in numerous theaters, symphonies, and choirs. She gives Sister Circle Seminars around the country, helping women identify their gifts as they celebrate their sisterhood. She is a fan of anything antique—humans included. Find out more at and

New Eyes, New Heart

When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
the son of man that you care for him?
Psalm 8:3–4 (NIV)

I was skeptical.

Driving through the vast expanse of New Mexico, all I saw were the endless stretches of brush and dryness. I was used to the lush greenness of grass and towering trees.

As we entered Ghost Ranch (where I was going to teach a fiction class), the adobe architecture did nothing to impress me. The buildings were low to the ground, squatting at the bottom of the rocky bluffs at their backs. Blah, without ornament or interest. When I discovered that the adobe house I would be staying at with ten or so other faculty was over two miles from the ranch, isolated off a dusty road, in the middle of nowhere, I braced myself to endure, not to enjoy, the setting.

But then it happened.

The next morning, everything changed.

When I went outside that first morning, the sky demanded my attention and lured me away from the house for a better view. I walked onto that dusty ground and into the desert.

The sunrise seemed to be holding a contest between blue and pink to determine which color could be king for the moment. The definition of “azure sky” was broadcast right there before me.

The layers of mountains and buttes in the distance had also chosen their colors with great care, as each layer revealed a different shade of steel blue against gray, against lighter gray; silhouettes without detail, as if an artist had created them with a single brushstroke.

And then I saw that the rock formations on the mountain behind me had transformed from barren crags to glowing sculptures as the rising sun illuminated myriad colors: red, orange, gold, and brown.

As for the adobe house, it was crouched low amid the rising rocks as it had been the day before. But this morning I saw it with new eyes. No, it was not a striking piece of architecture to be admired for what man had accomplished, but rather it was a structure formed with rounded edges, its surface the color of the earth that had birthed it. It did not compete with the landscape but rather was one with the land—the land that had been there first.

I walked farther away from the house. The crackle of sagebrush and low plants beneath my feet shouted against the silence. I watched the rusty color of the dirt powder my black shoes, letting me know that it was I who was the intruder.

A few more steps and I reached a spot where I felt both the weight and the freedom of complete solitude. At that moment, no one else in the entire world was where I was—perhaps no

one in the entire world had ever been there. I shivered at the thought and let the silence wrap around me like a whirling wind taking me captive.

And then I knew without a doubt that God was there with me.

And in that morning silence, with my heart softened, my attitude quelled, and my mind open, God spoke to me.

And this I made also.

I repeated the phrase in a whisper, letting its meaning find root.

Then I cried in awe and in humility. Who was I to judge God’s handiwork against my mortal standards of what I liked or preferred? I turned full circle, shaking my head in wonder at the beauty all around me—beauty God had made.

The rest of the world fell away. The crises, the troubles, the sins, and the sinners. For in those few minutes in the morning, God had taken time to set this one sinner straight. He had painted the sky just for me and made the air cool and still so I could hear His murmurings. And He had quieted my heart, subdued my arrogant pride, and given me a few intimate moments in His total care.

As the busyness of the day demanded my attention, and as the time to leave that place in the desert finally came upon me, I left with a wistful heart. Yet it was a heart open to the truth He had given me—a truth I will use amid mountains and cities, lakesides and meadows, in darkness and in light.

And this I made also.

O LORD, our LORD, how majestic is your name in all the earth! (Ps. 8: 9 NIV).

Nancy Moser