My family moves from house to
house. A lot. On purpose.
If I asked most people to list
their top ten things they hate/dread/detest doing, moving would be
right up there.
And yet our family does it
often. By choice.
We are not crazy. We hate
moving, too. But like a writer who likes “having written,” we like
But to move, we have to sell.
Let’s just say selling a house
used to be easier. We’ve had our share of stresses—one house took
fifteen months to sell, and we’ve had to move into interim apartments
on two occasions because of imperfect closing dates, but we’ve also had
a house sell the first weekend—for full price. However, currently . . .
We’re trying to sell a house
that has been on the market since November 2006. Yes. 2006. We moved
into our current home in April 2007 and have had double house payments
(and utility, insurance, and maintenance payments) ever since.
I repeat. We are not crazy. We
know we are currently living where we are supposed to be. But we are
still horribly stressed. Having to drop the price of the house by over
20 percent and still having it not sell doesn’t help (it is now listed
below the cost we spent to build it five years ago). We were even in
the final two choices for one house-hunting couple last week, but . . .
One of these days.
Rest in the LORD, and
wait patiently for Him . . . Do not fret—it only causes harm
(Psalm 37:7, 8 NKJV).
I keep trying to figure out what
God has up His sleeve. I’ve noticed when He asks me to wait there’s
usually a lesson to be learned, or a greater blessing to be received,
but to be honest, after over eighteen months I’m too weary about the
whole thing to dig very deep.
In the morning, O LORD, you hear
my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in
expectation (Psalm 5:3 NIV).
However . . . He is teaching me
how to pray. And trust. Not that I’m winning any sparkle-stars on
either account, but I am trying. Hard. Daily. Hourly. Minutely. I’ve
even tried thinking happy thoughts about the lucky family who will get
to live in our house, trying to focus on their joy (and, yes, our
subsequent relief—that, too). But then the issue of free will pops into
my head (their free will), and I just wish God would make them choose
our house. Please? Pretty please?
The Bible story that gives me
the most comfort is the parable in Luke 18 of the unrelenting widow
before the judge. I ain’t no widow, but let me tell you . . .
I have prayed in every way
possible: loud; soft; demanding; submissive; on my knees; flying in an
airplane; stand up, sit down, fight! Fight! Fight!
Has God heard my prayers? Absolutely. Just like the judge in the story
heard the widow’s plea every time she asked (and he was a man who
“didn’t fear God or care about men”). The key is that she didn’t give
up. She kept coming before him and asking him. Over and over and over.
Can we bug God too much?
This parable says no. And as a
kind and loving Judge, who has full authority over us, who deserves our
respect and gratitude and honor, God does listen, and, in a way, He has
I know. That last part is hard.
Answered? Where’s the offer on our house? Where’s the contract? Show me
I waited patiently for
the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry (Psalm 40:1 NIV).
The only thing that keeps me
going without suffering a total mental and emotional collapse is the
certainty that God has heard my prayers, He does
know all about it (He also knows all about the people looking for a
house to buy), and He has a plan. A perfect plan.
I just wish He’d let me in on
it. Give me a date when it will all be resolved and I’ll quit
bugging you, Lord.
But if I believe the plan part,
then I also must believe that making us wait all these months is part
of the plan, too. And one of these days, we’ll get the phone call that
will end all the waiting. And everything will be fine. And I might—or
might not—be able to figure out the reason behind our waiting.
Sometimes He lets us in on it. Sometimes not. (Boy, am I going to have
a lot of questions for Him up in Heaven!)
And yet . . . maybe the reason
for the wait is as simple as this: We’ve been forced to live on faith
all these months. Faith that God, our great Judge and Heavenly Father,
cares about us, has heard us, and will make it work. In His time.
Until then, like the widow in
the parable, I come before the Almighty and make my case. Over and over
The good thing is, He is not
annoyed. He appreciates my persistence.
His answer is not no.
Simply not yet.
I’m trying to be okay with that
. . .
Which is something else to pray
Hmm. I’m seeing a trend here.