Nancy Moser

Nancy Moser is the award-winning author of over 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). Her newest historical novels are Masquerade and An Unlikely Suitor. 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 is a fan of anything antique—humans included. Find out more at, and her historical blog: . Like her on Facebook:



There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit.
There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord.
There are different kinds of working, but the same God works all of them in all men.
                                                                              1 Corinthians 12: 4-6 (NIV)

Some people are so talented it makes me wonder if I was indisposed when God handed out His special gifts. Was I napping? Distracted with making my computer behave? Or worse, was I in the restroom helping my kids negotiate the intricacies of the soap dispenser?

Did I miss it when God stood before humankind and asked for volunteers?

“Who wants the gift of patience to work with teenagers, toddlers, and tired husbands?”

“Who wants the gift of generosity to give of their time, talents, and treasures with nary a grumble?”

“Who wants the gift of energy so they’ll never need a ten-minute nap and actually look forward to entertaining twenty-one relatives at Thanksgiving?”

Don’t look at me.

I’d love to have these talents. If God would have given them to me, I’m sure I would be very pleased with myself. And rightly so. But He has to forgive me if I look on the recipients of certain gifts such as these with a large dose of envy. My pitiful levels of patience, generosity, and energy are proof that God also doles out booby prizes. Truth is I’m jealous.

This jealousy is not becoming and often leads to my competitive side keeping score. I secretly rig the unofficial contest so I have a fighting chance to at least call it a tie in the number of gifts I have (or claim to have). It took the exhibit of an extraordinary talent to make me find a more godly response.

At our church there is a teenage boy who is a music prodigy. When our regular organist is on vacation in the summer, this teen fills in. Expertly. On this particular summer Sunday, he played a sonatahe had written. I sat in awe as I listened to him play. How had he tapped into the notes, the rhythm, the inspiration? The congregation burst into appreciative applause. When our pastor moved to the pulpit, he shook his head in wonder and said, “Seeing someone use their potential to such a high level inspires me to look at my own talents. What can I do better?”

Where was his jealousy? For if ever there was a reason to be jealous, it was because of this boy’s extraordinary talent.

I listened to the pastor’s remarks. They hit the bull’s-eye of my envious heart. I asked myself how I could better use the gifts God had given me. It wasn’t a matter of looking at myself, but looking inside myself to see how I could use my gifts for the benefit of others—not just for my own selfish gratification and certainly not to win an I’ve-got-more-than-you contest. I need to raise my hand and volunteer my gifts instead of hoarding them.

I also need to recognize attributes in other people. What gifts do I see in my kids? My spouse? My neighbors? Do I appreciate their gifts as I want them to appreciate mine? Do I tell them so?

What would happen if we all used our gifts to a higher level, until we inspired other people to use their gifts to a higher level . . . and on and on.


Maybe I was present when God handed out His gifts. I just have to look deeper, bring them to the surface, utilize them until I’m playing my own form of sonata. I need to tap into the notes, the rhythm, and the inspiration.

I need to tap into the giver of my gifts. I need to tap into God.

Shh! I think I hear some heavenly applause.


Nancy Moser