Nancy Moser

Nancy Moser is the award-winning author of eighteen inspirational novels. Her genres include contemporary stories including The Good Nearby 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 Said So Sister 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

Bugging God

Will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? I tell you, he will see that they get justice, and quickly.
Luke 18:7–8 (NIV)

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 “having moved.”

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 already answered.

I know. That last part is hard. Answered? Where’s the offer on our house? Where’s the contract? Show me the money.

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 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 about.

Hmm. I’m seeing a trend here.

Nancy Moser