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Edward Thomas and Robert Frost: A Friendship vital to each other’s success

By Anita Mathias

Edward Thomas, Robert Frost and the road to war

When Thomas and Frost met in London in 1913, neither had yet made his name as a poet. They became close, and each was vital to the other’s success. But then Frost wrote ‘The Road Not Taken’, which was to drive Thomas off to war
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  • Matthew Hollis
  • guardian.co.uk, Friday 29 July 2011 22.57 BST
  • Article history
Edward Thomas and Robert Frost

Edward Thomas and Robert Frost … so close was their friendship that they had planned to live side by side in America. Photographs: Cotswolds Photo Library/Alamy. Digital Image by David McCoy for GNM Imaging
Edward Thomas and Robert Frost were sitting on an orchard stile near Little Iddens, Frost’s cottage in Gloucestershire, in 1914, when word arrived that Britain had declared war on Germany. The two men wondered idly whether they might be able to hear the guns from their corner of the county. They had no idea of the way in which this war would come between them. In six months, Frost would flee England for the safety of New Hampshire; he would take Thomas’s son with him in the expectation that the rest of the Thomas family would follow.
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So close was the friendship that had developed between them that Thomas and Frost planned to live side by side in America, writing, teaching, farming. But Thomas was a man plagued by indecision, and could not readily choose between a life with Frost and the pull of the fighting in France. War seemed such an unlikely outcome for him. He was an anti-nationalist, who despised the jingoism and racism that the press was stoking; he refused to hate Germans or grow “hot” with patriotic love for Englishmen, and once said that his real countrymen were the birds. But this friendship – the most important of either man’s life – would falter at a key moment, and Thomas would go to war.
Thomas was 36 that summer of 1914, Frost was 40; neither man had yet made his name as a poet. Thomas had published two dozen prose books and written almost 2,000 reviews, but he had still to write his first poem. He worked exhaustedly, hurriedly, “burning my candle at 3 ends”, he told Frost, to meet the deadlines of London’s literary editors; he felt convinced that he amounted to little more than a hack. He was crippled by a depression that had afflicted him since university. His moods had become so desperate that on the day he was introduced to Frost, he carried in his pocket a purchase that he ominously referred to as his “Saviour”: probably poison, possibly a pistol, but certainly something with which he intended to harm himself.
At such periods of despair Thomas would lash out at his family, humiliating his wife, Helen, and provoking his three children to tears. He despised himself for the pain he inflicted on them and would leave home, sometimes for months on end, to spare them further agony. “Our life together never was, as it were, on the level – ” Helen reflected candidly after his death, “it was either great heights or great depths.” But Edward’s heights were not Helen’s, and his depths were altogether deeper. He sought professional help at a time when little was available, and was fortunate to come under the supervision of a pioneering young doctor, a future pupil of Carl Jung’s, who attempted to treat him using a talking cure. The clinical sessions had been progressing for a year when Thomas abruptly turned his back on them. Yet he continued to look to others to help wrench him from his despondency, believing that a rescuer would one day emerge. “I feel sure that my salvation depends on a person,” he once prophesised, “and that person cannot be Helen because she has come to resemble me too much.” Such a figure would indeed arrive to help him in his distress – Robert Frost.
Frost had moved his family to England in 1912 in a bid to relaunch a stalled literary career. Then in his late 30s and a father of four, he had managed to publish only a handful of poems in America’s literary magazines. He had not been sure whether to relocate his family to London or to Vancouver, so while his wife did the ironing, he had taken a nickel from his pocket and flipped it. It was heads, which meant London, and two weeks later the entire family was steaming across the Atlantic.
He found a publisher in London for his poems soon enough (partly subsidised by himself), though few critics gave his work a second look. But Edward Thomas did. Where other reviewers mistook Frost’s verse as simplistic, Thomas was moved to announce his 1914 volume North of Boston as “one of the most revolutionary books of modern times”. Thomas was a fearless and influential critic, described by the Times as “the man with the keys to the Paradise of English Poetry“. He had been quick to identify the brilliance of a young American in London called Ezra Pound, and instrumental in shaping the early reception of Walter de la Mare, WH Davies and many others besides; and he was quite undaunted in taking to task the literary giants of the day if they fell below the mark, be they Thomas Hardy, Rudyard Kipling or WB Yeats. When Thomas praised Frost, therefore, people began to take note.
North of Boston was a revolutionary work all right. In a mere 18 poems, it demonstrated the qualities that Frost and Thomas had – quite independently – come to believe were essential to the making of good verse. For both men, the engine of poetry was not rhyme or even form but rhythm, and the organ by which it communicated was the listening ear as opposed to the reading eye. For Thomas and Frost that entailed a fidelity to the phrase rather than to the metrical foot, to the rhythms of speech rather than those of poetic conventions, to what Frost liked to call “cadence”. If you have ever listened to voices through a closed door, Frost reasoned, you will have noticed how it can be possible to understand the general meaning of a conversation even when the specific words are muffled. This is because the tones and sentences with which we speak are coded with sonic meaning, a “sound of sense”. It is through this sense, unlocked by the rhythms of the speaking voice, that poetry communicates most profoundly: “A man will not easily write better than he speaks when some matter has touched him deeply,” Thomas wrote.
Neither Frost nor Thomas claimed to be the first to think about poetry this way, but their views certainly set them apart from their contemporaries, who were in furious competition in the charged atmosphere of the years before the war. Strikers, unionists, suffragettes, Irish republicans and the unemployed were just some of the rebellious groups that England strove to tame in 1914, and might very well have failed to suppress had war not broken out. The young poets emerging at the same time were, in their own way, also in revolt against the decrepitude of Victorian Britain. The centre of their activities was the newly opened Poetry Bookshop in Bloomsbury, from where two rival anthologies were produced: the manicured but popular Georgian Poetry, compiled by the secretary to the first lord of the Admiralty, Edward Marsh, and the radically experimental Des Imagistes, edited by Ezra Pound. It took no time at all for these parties to quarrel: so exasperating and offensive did Pound find Georgian verse that he challenged one of its protagonists to a duel.
Thomas and Frost ploughed their own furrow. Whenever Thomas visited Frost in 1914, they would walk out together on the fields of Gloucestershire; wherever they walked, they moved in an instinctive sympathy. Frost called these their “talks–walking”: and in them, their conversations ranged over marriage and friendship, wildlife, poetry and the war. Sometimes there was no talk and a silence gathered about them; but often at a gate or stile it started up again or was prompted by the meeting of a stranger in the lanes – a word or two and they were off again. They went without a map, setting their course by the sun or by the distant arc of May Hill crowning the view to the south; at dusk, the towering elms and Lombardy poplars or the light of a part-glimpsed cottage saw them home.
“He gave me standing as a poet,” Frost said of Thomas, “he more than anyone else.” But Frost would more than repay the favour that summer, recognising an innate poetry within Thomas’s prose writings, and imploring his friend to look back at his topographic books and “write them in verse form in exactly the same cadence”. Thomas would do just that, and with his friend’s encouragement, started down a path that would take him away from the “hack” work from which he earned his living. Jack Haines was a poet and solicitor living nearby in 1914 and was one of the few people who witnessed the transition at first hand. “It was towards the end of this same year that Thomas first began to write poetry himself,” Haines recorded, “and he did so certainly on the indirect, and I believe on the direct, suggestion of Frost, who thought that verse might prove that perfect mode of self-expression which Thomas had perhaps never previously found.”
The poems came quickly, “in a hurry and a whirl”: 75 in the first six months alone. He revised very little, explaining that the poetry neither asked for nor received much correction on paper. Often he went back to his prose to find his poem. Sometimes his source was a notebook that he kept on his walks, at other times his published books; and though the gap between his initial notes and a verse draft could be many months, once he began on the poem itself he usually completed it in a single day.
But poetry was not the only thing waking in Thomas in those summer months as the war began. Late in August, walking with Frost through the afternoon into the night, Thomas jotted in his notebook:
a sky of dark rough horizontal masses in N.W. with a 1/3 moon bright and almost orange low down clear of cloud and I thought of men east-ward seeing it at the same moment. It seems foolish to have loved England up to now without knowing it could perhaps be ravaged and I could and perhaps would do nothing to prevent it.
The war was three weeks old, and for the first time Thomas had imagined his countrymen fighting abroad, under the same moon as he. He was indifferent to the politics of the conflict, but he had begun to weigh up the worth of the land beneath his feet and the way of life that it supported. What would he do, if called on, to protect it, he asked himself. Would he do anything at all?
For a year, Thomas would question himself this way. It would take two incidents with Frost to help him to find his answer.
In late November 1914, Thomas and Frost were strolling in the woods behind Frost’s cottage when they were intercepted by the local gamekeeper, who challenged their presence and told the men bluntly to clear out. As a resident, Frost believed he was entitled to roam wherever he wished, and he told the keeper as much. The keeper was unimpressed and some sharp words were exchanged, and when the poets emerged on to the road they were challenged once more. Tempers flared and the keeper called Frost “a damned cottager” before raising his shotgun at the two men. Incensed, Frost was on the verge of striking the man, but hesitated when he saw Thomas back off. Heated words continued to be had, with the adversaries goading each other before then finally parting, the poets talking heatedly of the incident as they walked.
Thomas said that the keeper’s aggression was unacceptable and that something should be done about it. Frost’s ire peaked as he listened to Thomas: something would indeed be done and done right now, and if Thomas wanted to follow him he could see it being done. The men turned back, Frost angrily, Thomas hesitantly, but the gamekeeper was no longer on the road. His temper wild, Frost insisted on tracking the man down, which they did, to a small cottage at the edge of a coppice. Frost beat on the door, and left the startled keeper in no doubt as to what would befall him were he ever to threaten him again or bar access to the preserve. Frost repeated his warning for good measure, turned on his heels and prepared to leave. What happened next would be a defining moment in Frost and Thomas’s friendship, and would plague Thomas to his dying days.
The keeper, recovering his wits, reached above the door for his shotgun and came outside, this time heading straight for Thomas who, until then, had not been his primary target. The gun was raised again; instinctively Thomas backed off once more, and the gamekeeper forced the men off his property and back on to the path, where they retreated under the keeper’s watchful aim.
Frost contented himself with the thought that he had given a good account of himself; but not Thomas, who wished that his mettle had not been tested in the presence of his friend. He felt sure that he had shown himself to be cowardly and suspected Frost of thinking the same. Not once but twice had he failed to hold his ground, while his friend had no difficulty standing his. His courage had been found wanting, at a time when friends such as Rupert Brooke had found it in themselves to face genuine danger overseas.
The encounter would leave Thomas haunted, to relive the moment again and again. In his verse and in his letters to Frost – in the week when he left for France, even in the week of his death – he recalled the feeling of fear and cowardice he had experienced in that stand-off with the gamekeeper. He felt mocked by events and possibly even by the most important friend he had ever made, and he vowed that he would never again let himself be faced down. When the moment came he would hold his nerve and face the gunmen. “That’s why he went to war,” said Frost later.
But it would take one further episode in Thomas’s friendship with Frost to push him to war; and it would turn on a work of Frost’s that has becomeAmerica’s best-loved poem.
In the early summer of 1915, six months after the row with the gamekeeper, Thomas had still to take his fateful decision to enlist. Zeppelins had brought the war emphatically to London, but Thomas’s eyes were on New Hampshire, to where Frost had returned earlier that year. Thomas prepared his mother for the news that he might emigrate, and told Frost he seemed certain to join him: “I am thinking about America as my only chance (apart from Paradise).” But Thomas’s prevarication got the better of him once more, and though conscription had yet to be introduced, he told Frost of the equal pull of the war in France. “Frankly I do not want to go,” he said of the fighting, “but hardly a day passes without my thinking I should. With no call, the problem is endless.”
But the problem was not endless as Thomas thought, for a poem of Frost’s had arrived by post that would dramatically force Thomas’s hand: a poem called “Two Roads”, soon to be rechristened “The Road Not Taken”. It finished:
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Noble, charismatic, wise: in the years since its composition, “The Road Not Taken” has been understood by some as an emblem of individual choice and self-reliance, a moral tale in which the traveller takes responsibility for – and so effects – his own destiny. But it was never intended to be read in this way by Frost, who was well aware of the playful ironies contained within it, and would warn audiences: “You have to be careful of that one; it’s a tricky poem – very tricky.”
Frost knew that reading the poem as a straight morality tale ought to pose a number of difficulties. For one: how can we evaluate the outcome of the road not taken? For another: had the poet chosen the road more travelled by then that, logically, could also have made all the difference. And in case the subtlety was missed, Frost set traps in the poem intended to explode a more earnest reading. The two paths, he wrote, had been worn “really about the same”, and “equally lay / In leaves no step had trodden black”, showing the reader that neither road was more or less travelled, and that choices may in some sense be equal.
But the poem carried a more personal message. Many were the walks when Thomas would guide Frost on the promise of rare wild flowers or birds’ eggs, only to end in self-reproach when the path he chose revealed no such wonders. Amused at Thomas’s inability to satisfy himself, Frost chided him, “No matter which road you take, you’ll always sigh, and wish you’d taken another.”
To Thomas, it was not the least bit funny. It pricked at his confidence, at his sense of his own fraudulence, reminding him he was neither a true writer nor a true naturalist, cowardly in his lack of direction. And now the one man who understood his indecisiveness the most astutely – in particular, towards the war – appeared to be mocking him for it.
Thomas responded angrily. He did not subscribe to models of self-determination, or the belief that the spirit could triumph over adversity; some things seemed to him ingrained, inevitable. How free-spirited his friend seemed in comparison. This American who sailed for England on a long-shot, knowing no one and without a place to go, rode his literary fortunes and won his prize, then set sail again to make himself a new home. None of this was Thomas. “It isn’t in me,” he pleaded.
Frost insisted that Thomas was overreacting, and told his friend that he had failed to see that “the sigh was a mock sigh, hypocritical for the fun of the thing”. But Thomas saw no such fun, and said so bluntly, adding that he doubted anyone would see the fun of the thing without Frost to guide them personally. Frost, in fact, had already discovered as much on reading the poem before a college audience, where it was “taken pretty seriously”, he admitted, despite “doing my best to make it obvious by my manner that I was fooling . . . Mea culpa.”
“The Road Not Taken” did not send Thomas to war, but it was the last and pivotal moment in a sequence of events that had brought him to an irreversible decision. He broke the news to Frost. “Last week I had screwed myself up to the point of believing I should come out to America & lecture if anyone wanted me to. But I have altered my mind. I am going to enlist on Wednesday if the doctor will pass me.”
In walking with Frost, he had written of the urgent need to protect – and if necessary, to fight for – the life and the landscape around him. “Something, I felt, had to be done before I could look again composedly at English landscape,” he explained, though he had struggled for some time to see what it was that might be done. Finally, he understood. Thomas was passed fit by the doctor, and the same week, in July 1915, he sat down to lunch with a friend and informed her that he had enlisted in the Artists Rifles, and that he was glad; he did not know why, but he was glad.
“I had known that the struggle going on in his spirit would end like this,” his wife wrote.
Thomas brought a unique eye to the English landscape at a moment when it was facing irreversible change. His work seems distinctly modern in its recognition of the interdependence of human beings and the natural world, more closely attuned to our own ecological age than that of the first world war.
Though few of his poems were published in his lifetime, his admirers have been many: WH Auden, Cecil Day-Lewis, Dylan Thomas, Philip Larkin, Ted Hughes, Andrew Motion and Michael Longley among them. But perhaps no poet ever valued him more highly than Robert Frost: “We were greater friends than almost any two ever were practising the same art,” he remarked. A war, a gamekeeper and a road not taken came between them, but by then they had altered one another’s lives irrevocably. Thomas pulled his friend’s work from obscurity into a clearing, from which the American would go on to sell a million poetry books in his lifetime. Frost, in turn, released the poet within Thomas, and would even find a publisher for his verse in the United States. That book would carry a dedication that Thomas had scribbled on the eve of sailing for France: “To Robert Frost”. Frost responded in kind, writing: “Edward Thomas was the only brother I ever had.”
At twilight when walking, or at the parting of ways with a friend, Thomas could feel great sadness that his journey must come to an end:
Things will happen which will trample and pierce, but I shall go on, something that is here and there like the wind, something unconquerable, something not to be separated from the dark earth and the light sky, a strong citizen of infinity and eternity.
He was killed on the first day of the battle of Arras, Easter 1917; he had survived little more than two months in France. Yet his personal war was never with a military opponent: it had been with his ravaging depression and with his struggle to find a literary expression through poetry that was worthy of his talents. And on the latter, at least, he won his battle.


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Link to post with podcast link in Bio or https://a Link to post with podcast link in Bio or https://anitamathias.com/2023/09/22/dont-walk-away-from-jesus-but-if-you-do-he-still-looks-at-you-and-loves-you/
Jesus came from a Kingdom of voluntary gentleness, in which
Christ, the Lion of Judah, stands at the centre of the throne in the guise of a lamb, looking as if it had been slain. No wonder his disciples struggled with his counter-cultural values. Oh, and we too!
The mother of the Apostles James and John, asks Jesus for a favour—that once He became King, her sons got the most important, prestigious seats at court, on his right and left. And the other ten, who would have liked the fame, glory, power,limelight and honour themselves are indignant and threatened.
Oh-oh, Jesus says. Who gets five talents, who gets one,
who gets great wealth and success, who doesn’t–that the
Father controls. Don’t waste your one precious and fleeting
life seeking to lord it over others or boss them around.
But, in his wry kindness, he offers the ambitious twelve
and us something better than the second or third place.
He tells us how to actually be the most important person to
others at work, in our friend group, social circle, or church:Use your talents, gifts, and energy to bless others.
And we instinctively know Jesus is right. The greatest people in our lives are the kind people who invested in us, guided us and whose wise, radiant words are engraved on our hearts.
Wanting to sit with the cleverest, most successful, most famous people is the path of restlessness and discontent. The competition is vast. But seek to see people, to listen intently, to be kind, to empathise, and doors fling wide open for you, you rare thing!
The greatest person is the one who serves, Jesus says. Serves by using the one, two, or five talents God has given us to bless others, by finding a place where our deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet. By writing which is a blessing, hospitality, walking with a sad friend, tidying a house.
And that is the only greatness worth having. That you yourself,your life and your work are a blessing to others. That the love and wisdom God pours into you lives in people’s hearts and minds, a blessing
https://anitamathias.com/.../dont-walk-away-from-j https://anitamathias.com/.../dont-walk-away-from-jesus.../
Sharing this podcast I recorded last week. LINK IN BIO
So Jesus makes a beautiful offer to the earnest, moral young man who came to him, seeking a spiritual life. Remarkably, the young man claims that he has kept all the commandments from his youth, including the command to love one’s neighbour as oneself, a statement Jesus does not challenge.
The challenge Jesus does offers him, however, the man cannot accept—to sell his vast possessions, give the money to the poor, and follow Jesus encumbered.
He leaves, grieving, and Jesus looks at him, loves him, and famously observes that it’s easier for a camel to squeeze through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to live in the world of wonders which is living under Christ’s kingship, guidance and protection. 
He reassures his dismayed disciples, however, that with God even the treasure-burdened can squeeze into God’s kingdom, “for with God, all things are possible.”
Following him would quite literally mean walking into a world of daily wonders, and immensely rich conversation, walking through Israel, Lebanon, Syria, and Jordan, quite impossible to do with suitcases and backpacks laden with treasure. 
For what would we reject God’s specific, internally heard whisper or directive, a micro-call? That is the idol which currently grips and possesses us. 
Not all of us have great riches, nor is money everyone’s greatest temptation—it can be success, fame, universal esteem, you name it…
But, since with God all things are possible, even those who waver in their pursuit of God can still experience him in fits and snatches, find our spirits singing on a walk or during worship in church, or find our hearts strangely warmed by Scripture, and, sometimes, even “see” Christ stand before us. 
For Christ looks at us, Christ loves us, and says, “With God, all things are possible,” even we, the flawed, entering his beautiful Kingdom.
https://anitamathias.com/2023/09/07/how-to-find-th https://anitamathias.com/2023/09/07/how-to-find-the-freedom-of-forgiveness/
How to Find the Freedom of Forgiveness
Letting go on anger and forgiving is both an emotional transaction & a decision of the will. We discover we cannot command our emotions to forgive and relinquish anger. So how do we find the space and clarity of forgiveness in our mind, spirit & emotions?
When tormenting memories surface, our cortisol, adrenaline, blood pressure, and heart rate all rise. It’s good to take a literally quick walk with Jesus, to calm this neurological and physiological storm. And then honestly name these emotions… for feelings buried alive never die.
Then, in a process called “the healing of memories,” mentally visualise the painful scene, seeing Christ himself there, his eyes brimming with compassion. Ask Christ to heal the sting, to draw the poison from these memories of experiences. We are caterpillars in a ring of fire, as Martin Luther wrote--unable to rescue ourselves. We need help from above.
Accept what happened. What happened, happened. Then, as the Apostle Paul advises, give thanks in everything, though not for everything. Give thanks because God can bring good out of the swindle and the injustice. Ask him to bring magic and beauty from the ashes.
If, like the persistent widow Jesus spoke of, you want to pray for justice--that the swindler and the abusers’ characters are revealed, so many are protected, then do so--but first, purify your own life.
And now, just forgive. Say aloud, I forgive you for … You are setting a captive free. Yourself. Come alive. Be free. 
And when memories of deep injuries arise, say: “No. No. Not going there.” Stop repeating the devastating story to yourself or anyone else. Don’t waste your time & emotional energy, nor let yourself be overwhelmed by anger at someone else’s evil actions. Don’t let the past poison today. Refuse to allow reinjury. Deliberately think instead of things noble, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy.
So keep trying, in obedience, to forgive, to let go of your anger until you suddenly realise that you have forgiven, and can remember past events without agitation. God be with us!
https://anitamathias.com/2023/08/16/the-silver-coi https://anitamathias.com/2023/08/16/the-silver-coin-in-the-mouth-of-a-fish-never-underestimate-god/
I've recorded a podcast on how Jesus guided Peter to find the necessary tax money in a fish.
The Silver Coin in the Mouth of a Fish. Never Underestimate God
So the taxman comes for Peter: Does Jesus pay the voluntary,
but expected tax for the upkeep of the grand temple and its
priests)? And, as he often does, Jesus asks Peter what he thinks because as a friend, he's interested,and as a brilliant teacher, he wants Peter to think for himself..
Sons do not pay tax to their fathers, they both agree. 
Then, Christ,who repeatedly referred to his powerful body
as God’s temple on earth, decides to pay temple tax anyway
to avoid a skandalon, offence.
And Jesus instructs Peter to cast a line and a hook–as amateur
fishermen did–insulting for a professional with boats and nets.
And Christ again demonstrates that he knows best even in Peter’s
one area of professional expertise. And Christ knows best in our
areas of giftedness. His call often involves working just outside
our zone of competence, forcing us to function with the magic of
God’s spirit and energy. The grain of pride must die for resurrection.
And Peter finds silver in a fish. When you lack the money to fulfil
the dream God has placed in your heart, do not rule out His
wonder-working power. Pray for God’s miraculous provision, or
for Christ’s surprising strategies to create wealth, rather than work
yourself to a breakdown, or manipulate or use others to get money.
Will God tell us, on request, which fish in the multitudinous seas
has swallowed silver? He sometimes might, for he hates waste. But
not always. Tim Keller writes, “People think if God has called
you to something, he’s promising you success. But He might be
calling you to fail to prepare you for something else through the failure.
To work all night and catch nothing, as Peter did, strengthens our
character and endurance so that we are capable of becoming fishers of
humans, and, if God pleases, sometimes, perhaps even fishers of money.
Hi, I've recorded a new podcast. Here's the link. Hi, I've recorded a new podcast. Here's the link. https://anitamathias.com/2023/08/06/following-jesus-is-costly-and-the-very-best-thing-we-can-do/
Jesus is blazingly honest about the cost of following him. It’s our most brilliant, golden choice, though it does mean we can no longer follow ourselves. We dance instead to his other-worldly, life-changing music, asking at each transition point of our day or life, “Jesus, what is your assignment? How do I do it your way?” 
For me (descriptive, not prescriptive), shouldering my cross includes eliminating sugar and starchy carbs (to lose excess weight!), not watching TV (extreme!), keep my house and garden organised and pretty enough. And, also, taming anger and outspokenness! And refusing to sing a song of worry, or linger in anger, training myself to sing instead a song of trust, praise, and gratitude. 
While following Jesus is electric, and joyful, following
ourselves could entail ruining our health with addictive foods, caffeine,overwork, or the siren-call of our phones. Following Jesus does not mean relinquishing our goals and ambitions, but surrendering them to Him. We do not own
our work; God does. And so, we must repent when we overwork, get too intense about success, or try to impress others with it. For competitive cravings for success, fame, money,
or popularity wreck relationships, and mental, spiritual, and physical health, and never satisfy, for the ladder of success has no end, and climbing it means exhausting ourselves for nothing. We’re still restless.
You have made us for yourself, Oh Lord, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you, St. Augustine wrote. If we do not try to obey the Great Commandment: to love God, and Christ’s second commandment:  to love our neighbour as ourselves, we could, one day,open the treasure box of our lives and find only ashes. Nothing!
C.S. Lewis: “Give up yourself, and you will find your real self. Nothing in you that has not died will ever be raised from the dead. Look for yourself, and you will find only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. But look for Christ and you will find Him, and with Him everything else thrown in.”
https://anitamathias.com/2023/07/19/persistent-pra https://anitamathias.com/2023/07/19/persistent-prayer-turns-christs-silence-his-no-and-absolutely-not-to-yes/
So, a Syro-Phoenician woman comes to Jesus, crying out,
“Lord, have mercy on me. My daughter is suffering terribly.” But 
Jesus remains silent. Undeterred, she keeps crying out.
And Jesus snubs her: “I was sent only to the lost
sheep of Israel.” But she can’t believe “No” could be
his final word. “Lord, help me,” she says simply. And
then, a crushing rebuff. “It is not right to take
the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.” But hitting
rock bottom makes your prayers strangely powerful. “Yes,
it is right, Lord,” she contradicts him, “Even dogs eat crumbs
that fall.” Dogs, hungry, humble, grateful, happy.
And Jesus praises her dogged faith 
which catalyses the miracle she longs for. 
He says, "Your request is granted.” 
Never passively accept any apparently intractable situations.
Reality is infinitely malleable in the hands of God. We pray,
and people change, circumstances change. We change. So
keep praying until little drops of the kindness of God
soften and change the impossible situation and your heart. 
Take your little mustard seed of mountain-moving faith,
and pray, seeing the kind Jesus in your mind’s eye.
Continue praying, past God’s silence, his “No,” and “Absolutely Not,” 
until Christ, charmed, says, “Yes. It’s time! Go, girl, go. This way.”
Dream big and wide like childless Abraham stepping outside,
dazzled by an immensity of stars, and believing God’s power
could give him as many descendants. But don’t waste your
passion and dream-energy. Pray for things that will bring you
joy, yes, but will also bless myriad others, creating something,
in Milton’s phrase, that the world will not willingly let die.
Each of Jesus’s prayers were not answered affirmatively; neither
will each of our requests be granted. We are not wise enough
to know what best to pray for. But prayer, incredibly, does change
things. So keep praying for the shimmering dream which makes
your heart burn and quiver; pray past apparent impossibility until
the heavens open, the Spirit descends, and you live
and create with God’s spirit energising and filling you.
https://anitamathias.com/2023/07/08/grab-christs-h https://anitamathias.com/2023/07/08/grab-christs-hand-when-you-are-sinking/
LINK in profile
Hi friends, I’ve recorded a podcast meditation. Pls listen should you have time.
Sometimes, the little boat of your life is tossed in the darkness, in a storm-swept lake, far from shore,
And a dark figure looms, walking on water, and you cannot see his face, and you do not know his name, and you are terrified.
And in the encircling gloom, Christ always speaks the same magnificent words, “Take courage. It is I. Do not be afraid.”
He comes to us in the darkness, a future that looks bleak, with unsolvable relational difficulties or financial difficulties, or when intellect, energy, and organisation feel puny, matched with our dreams and calling. But it is Christ. Do not be afraid.
And Peter, the risk-taker, from an overabundance of love and impulsivity, says, “Lord, if it’s you, tell me to come to you on the water.” And Jesus speaks another of his great words, “Come.”
Jesus, the merciful, did not ask Peter to do something that transcended the humanly possible and Peter’s faith, but
since Peter wanted to get to Jesus as quickly as possible, and to do whatever Jesus did, he gives him permission to walk on water.
We sometimes yearn to do things for which we know we don’t have the money, time, abundant gifting, or even the character. Never begin them before you’ve prayed, “Lord, tell me to do it.” And if he says, “Come,” start tackling the impossibility, immediately.
And Peter walks on water, until he sees the almost visible wind, is afraid, and begins to sink. Fear paralyses, sinks, and destroys.
And Peter prays a powerful prayer, “Lord, save me.” And immediately, Jesus reaches out his hand and catches him, scolding, “Oligopistos. You of little faith. Why did you doubt?”
And the wind dies down, and Peter learns to keep his eyes on Jesus and his power when he attempts the impossible, and to cry out for Jesus’s help when he begins to sink.
Help us, Jesus, you who control the wind and waves, and all things, when we are sinking in the darkness, and all seems impossible. Tell the wind to be quiet.
Take my hand, precious Lord. Lead me on. Let me stand. Amen.
https://anitamathias.com/2023/07/01/how-to-find-li https://anitamathias.com/2023/07/01/how-to-find-life-changing-hidden-treasure/
Podcast link in profile
Hi Friends, I've recorded a new podcast meditation on Jesus's statement that following him is like discovering priceless treasure hidden in a field. The finder would joyfully sell everything to buy it, as should we!
Jesus speaks of living in the Kingdom of God, living with him as our High King and Lord, as a treasure, worth selling everything we have to gain.
He describes it as experiencing peace, joy, and operating in the power of the Holy Spirit.
As literally selling everything we have would take time, so too will adjusting our lives to living in Christ's invisible Kingdom.
It requires a slow, steady but definite adjustment of each area of our lives: relationships, what we read and watch, consumption and production of social media, travel, leisure, our spending and giving, time spent on food prep and exercise, on prayer and scripture, on reading and the news, on home and garden maintenance, on church activities and volunteering. Some of us will spend less time on these, others will spend more, for we each have a unique shape and calling.
Entering into the kingdom of God is a very individual pilgrim's progress; we each have a different starting point. Rick Warren of The Purpose Driven Life suggests that those seeking to change anything change their bodies first, by getting their exercise and diet under control... which is where I am starting!!
While following Christ is costly, for sure, it's costlier to follow what Tim Keller called Counterfeit Gods --“money, the seduction of success, the power and the glory,” climbing a cruel ladder which has no end, and never satisfies for long. 
In a remarkable account, Bill Bright, founder of Cru, describes his surrender to God as abandoning his puny little plans for God's magnificent plans. Once done, he said the future seemed brighter than ever before... And it undoubtedly was! Jesus's promise that the things the unbelieving world chases will added to those who seek his Kingdom first came true in Bright’s life, as it will in ours as we pursue Christ.
I’ve seen these Pre-Raphaelite paintings in Tate I’ve seen these Pre-Raphaelite paintings in Tate Britain several times, and they delight me each time. What a gorgeous museum!
And here is this week’s podcast meditation-- https://anitamathias.com/2023/06/18/the-spirit-helps-us-speak-creative-words-of-energy-and-life/ (link in Instagram bio)
On how we need the Spirit’s help to speak creative words of energy and life, not darkness and devastation.
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