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Tales of Fantasy, Mystery and Adventure Under the Influence of Christian Homeschooling

S. A. J. Lyttek, a multiple award-winning writer, always loved writing, but didn’t arrive at the profession in the typical manner. After college and graduate school, she plunged into government consulting. In this environment, she discovered a knack for writing tests, interviews and other measurements. That soon became the focus of her career—reigniting her love for the written word. Thus captivated, she spent evenings freelancing “fun” writing including short stories, poems, articles and cards. When her eldest was a toddler, she quit full-time work to stay home and write. Eager to spend more time with her children, homeschooling intrigued her. From preschool through high school, she homeschooled both sons while continuing to freelance. An integral part of the homeschooling community, she has developed and taught writing classes to a generation of homeschoolers. Married to her childhood sweetheart, Gary, Mrs. Lyttek loves to share her commitment to homeschoolers and her fascination with the written word.



My Writing Tithe

4/14/2021 3:13:00 PM BY Susan Lyttek

I don’t remember exactly how it started. A nudge from the Holy Spirit? Probably many such nudges before I gave in and said, all right, I’ll do it.

If you read this via Facebook, you might realize what I’m talking about. Most days I post a poem from the margin of my coloring Bible. But it wasn’t something I ever intended to do. You could even say, I went into it kicking and screaming. That’s silly, God. (Yes, I say such ridiculous things to my creator.) Why on earth should I do that? No one will want to read my reactions to Scripture. And even if they do, some of them are so personal. You want me to show the world that I’m fallible? That I’m weak? That I make mistakes?

The very first poem I posted, the formatting glitched. It didn’t even look like a poem. But much to my surprise, I had a lot of favorable reactions to it. Almost as many as when I posted a picture.

I was shocked. (God wasn’t.) It was as if I felt in my spirit though, ‘you give back to me by giving your words to others’. These blog posts have primarily been a way of giving my words to others without expecting anything in return. But if I’m honest, the whole process of blogging started because I was told that as a writer it was one of my “should-do”s. While I like writing these posts, they do have a hint of duty nagging at the back of my brain. It’s not just a gift. It’s not just an act of worship and prayer.

The poems are.

And perhaps that’s why God wanted me sharing them. I am surprised almost weekly by how the poems minister. Sometimes I come across one that I wrote months prior that deals with my current emotions and struggles. Sometimes I hear from others that they needed the poem. Or I will hear that one of my friends forwarded it to someone else that needed its encouragement.

But I’m betting that most of the time, I’m clueless as to what the poem is doing and for who. Or if it’s doing anything at all. And that’s absolutely okay.

Because as the title indicates, what I get out of it is not why I upload them. They are my tithe of words. They are giving back to God in thanks for the other words he pours into me.

And he will use them as he sees fit.

 

(And here’s a couple of bonus Scripture poems!)

Psalm 139

I cannot leave your side.

If I were to ride the chariot with the morning sun--

You would be there.

If I established the first orbit

Around the North Star--

You would be there.

You have been with me since

you knit the bones and sinew about my soul.

When I sleep,

whether for the space between darkness and morning,

Or for the long sleep

between this life and the next,

you never leave me.

You are my God.

 

Isaiah 55:9

What limits the heavens?

What limits have they or do they?

You alone know, O God,

Because if the universe has a boundary

You set it in its place.

We cannot detect it or reach it.

We are ants crawling up a string

To the sweetness you hold in your hand

And that,

That is what we imagine the broad expanses of the eternal to be.

We have no idea.

How can we?

Perhaps we can learn, experience and grasp the love that fills

The tip of your right index finger, the minutia just under the edge of the nail,

But I doubt it.

Even that is too high for us.

Feed us your ways

Microdrop by microdrop,

For only you who made us

Know what we can digest

Know what will help us grow.

Until then,

Let me crawl into your hand

And drink deeply of the water you have cupped.

Your hand so broad

So safe

That I feel like I’m alone here.

Alone with you.