Spiritual-mindedness
by J. C. Philpot
"For to be carnally minded is death; but to be
spiritually minded is life and peace." (Romans 8:6)
When was there ever more worldly conformity than now?
When was there ever more carnality in conversation, more backbiting,
slander, idle gossip, tittle-tattling from house to house, levity and froth
indulged in without scruple or shame? so that a little feeling,
experimental, savory communion with the saints of God, such as profits and
edifies the soul, creates and cements a spiritual union, draws the heart
upwards to heaven, and makes us love Jesus and the image of Jesus in his
people, is almost unknown.
In ancient times, "those who feared the Lord spoke often
one to another, and the Lord hearkened and heard it, and a book of
remembrance was written before him." (Mal. 3:16.) Their conversation was
such as the Lord could hearken to, and record in his book. But would the
Lord hearken to and record the conversation of most professors now, the main
object of which is to exalt themselves and depreciate others; and under a
thin veil of religious phraseology, put on to blind others and deceive
themselves, display little else but the pride and worldliness of their
hearts? When was there more general deadness and darkness in the churches,
and so little life and power in the pulpit and pew? When were experimental
men of God more scarce, and more despised and depreciated; or mere 'prating
ministers', who have a gift to speak, but who give little evidence that they
either know or love the truth of God, so many and so popular?
But let men say what they will, or be what they may, let
thousands combine to lower the sacred things of God to their own sunken
level, it still stands a fixed, immutable truth, fixed as the throne of God,
immutable as the great self-existent I AM, that "to be carnally-minded is
death"—death total in the unregenerate, death partial when the living soul
is under its power and influence. And if death total in the unregenerate, it
entails all the awful penalties and punishments of death, if life from God
does not eventually quicken.
Therefore no mere profession, no formal creed, no sitting
under a gospel ministry, no church-membership or partaking of ordinances, no
name to live while dead, will rescue from the second death, from the worm
that does not die—and the fire that is not quenched, those who are
carnally-minded, whatever be their profession, whether of the highest
Calvinism or the most groveling Arminianism.
But "to be spiritually-minded"—to live and walk
under the blessed power and influence of the Holy Spirit, to have the heart
and affections drawn up from this poor, vain scene to where Jesus sits at
the right hand of God, this is "life," the life of God in the soul, with all
its present blessedness and all its future glory, and "peace," for peace and
rest are alone to be found in this path of union and communion with a
glorified Redeemer. In this sweet spirituality of mind—in these heavenly
affections—in this communion with the Lord at his own throne of grace—the
life and power of godliness much consist. Unless the heart be engaged in it,
religion is heavy, dragging work. Prayer, reading, meditation, preaching,
hearing, conversation with the saints, all are "a burden to the weary beast"
when the power and life of God are not in them, when the heart is cold and
dead, and not under some sensible influence from the courts of heaven.
But when a sweet and sacred influence rests upon the
soul, when there is a felt union and communion with the Lord of life and
glory, when a word from his lips, into which grace is poured, touches and
softens the heart; and faith, viewing his beauty and blessedness, grace and
glory, love and blood, sympathy and suitability, takes hold of his strength
and says, "I will not let you go except you bless me," and he condescends to
unveil his lovely face; then there is a lifting up of the heart and
affections to the merciful and compassionate High Priest over the house of
God. The lusts and evils which cling to the body of sin and death, as the
viper to Paul's hand, then drop off into the fire of godly jealousy, "the
coals whereof are coals of fire, which has a most vehement flame" against
all that God hates; pride and covetousness, fretfulness and murmuring, evil
tempers and carking cares, and a thousand God-dishonoring anxieties, hide
their hateful heads; unbelief and infidelity, and a whole black troop of
doubts and fears are put to the rout; and the Prince of Peace reigns and
rules as the soul's only rightful and loved Lord.
Sweet, seasons, but, alas! how transient; how soon fresh
clouds gather, fresh storms arise, fresh lusts work, and fresh foes start up
from every ambush to try faith and hope and patience, and cast a dark cloud
over the soul! We trust we know, from what we have felt in our own bosom,
what this sweet spiritual-mindedness is, and what are its blessed effects.
It is a key to unlock the Scriptures, for then we read them under the same
sacred influence, and by the same divine teaching by which they were
written; it is a door of prayer, for under these calm and peaceful emotions
the soul, as if instinctively and necessarily, seeks holy communion with
God; it is the fruitful parent of sweet meditation, for the truth of God is
then thought over, fed upon, and is found to be bread from heaven—it is the
secret of all life and power in preaching, for unless the heart be engaged
in, and melted and softened by the truth delivered, there will be a hardness
in its delivery which will make itself sensibly felt by the living hearer.
And it is the power of all spiritual conversation, for how can we talk with
any unction or profit unless we are spiritually-minded, and in that frame of
soul wherein the things of God are our chief element—the language of our
lips, because the delight of our soul?
But to be otherwise—to be carnally-minded on our knees,
with the Bible open before our eyes, in the house of prayer, at the Lord's
table, in the company of the family of God—what a burden to our spirit, what
a condemnation to our conscience, what a parent of doubt and fear whether
matters can be right between God and our own soul, when there is such a
distance between him and us! And of all poor miserable wretches, felt or not
felt, a carnally-minded minister must be the worst. Death in the
pulpit must engender death in the pew. A minister stands there as an
instrument in the hands of God to comfort and encourage the drooping hearts
of his people, to strengthen the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees,
to be a means of communicating life to the dead, and reviving the living.
But if dead himself, totally dead, can he communicate life to others? And if
"as one dead, of whom the flesh is half consumed," like Miriam when struck
by leprosy—a saved man sunk into carnality and death, and that not deeply
felt or groaned under as a heavy load—how can he feed the church of the
living God?
It is true that the most eminent saints and servants of
God have their dead and dark seasons, when the life of God seems sunk
to so low an ebb as to be hardly visible—so hidden is the stream by the
mud-banks of their fallen nature. Still it glides onward, around them, if
not through them—and sometimes a beam of light falls upon it from above, as
it threads its way toward the ocean of eternal love, which manifests not
only its existence but its course, and that it gives back to heaven the ray
it receives from heaven. No, by these very dark and dead seasons, the
saints and servants of God are instructed. They see and feel what the flesh
really is, how alienated from the life of God; they learn in whom all their
strength and sufficiency lie; they are taught that in them, that is, in
their flesh, dwells no good thing; that no exertions of their own can
maintain in strength and vigor the life of God; and that all they are, and
have, all they believe, know, feel, and enjoy, with all their ability,
usefulness, gifts, and grace—flow from the pure, sovereign grace, the rich,
free, undeserved—yet unceasing goodness and mercy of God! They learn in this
hard school of painful experience their emptiness and nothingness, and that
without Christ indeed they can do nothing. They thus become clothed with
humility—that rare, yet lovely garb; cease from their own strength and
wisdom, and learn experimentally that Christ is, and ever must be, all in
all to them, and all in all in them.
"For to be carnally minded is death; but to be
spiritually minded is life and peace." (Romans 8:6)
We do not view spiritual-mindedness as a habitual
state of the regenerated soul, but one brought forth under special
influences, and therefore subject to fluctuations.
The meaning of the apostle in Romans 8:6 is simply
this—that the mind, the breath, the bent and inclination of the new man of
grace, is "life," as its main element, and "peace," as the result and fruit
of life. In other words, the new man of grace, that "spirit," (John 3:6,
Rom. 8:16, Ezek. 36:26,) which is born of the Spirit possesses "life" as its
animating, operating principle; and as this life is from Christ and unites
to Christ, it enjoys "peace" from its union and communion with him.
But the apostle does not lay it down as a certain fixed
principle that the soul of a believer is always spiritually-minded, and that
therefore, he always enjoys life and peace. He is, on the contrary, drawing
the distinction between the flesh and the spirit in a believer, and showing
the essential difference between the two. The one is death, the other life;
the one is enmity, the other peace; the one not subject to the law of God,
the other obedient to his will and word; the one displeasing to God, the
other pleasing in his sight.
Thence he argues that all men walk, that is, think,
speak, live, and act, according to the one or the other; and that those who
"walk after the flesh," that is, follow out its movements, desires, and
dictates, are dead, at enmity with God, disobedient, and therefore
displeasing to him; while those who "walk after the spirit" possess and
manifest divine life, enjoy peace with God, obey his precepts, and are
pleasing in his sight.
But the question may occur to a sincere child of God who
knows and feels much of his barrenness, darkness, and death, whether he is
or can be spiritually-minded, when he is so rarely in the enjoyment of it,
and is often so far from the life and peace which are its attendant fruits.
Here great wisdom and holy caution are needed to give a right answer. Many a
wretched, carnal, dead professor takes comfort from hearing that the real
child of God has his seasons of deadness and coldness, not thinking or
caring to think that it is one thing to be always dead, and another to be so
sometimes; one thing to see it, and another to feel and mourn under it. How
many there are in the professing church "who bless themselves in their
heart, saying, I shall have peace, though I walk in the imagination of mine
heart, to add drunkenness to thirst." (Deut. 29:19.) These are they who
feast with the children of God, "feeding themselves without fear," when they
are but "clouds without water, carried about of winds; trees whose fruit
withers, without fruit, twice dead, plucked up by the roots." (Jude 12.)
Much wisdom, therefore, and caution are needed not to take the children's
bread and cast it to the dogs; on the one hand not to make the heart of the
righteous sad, and on the other not to strengthen the hands of the wicked by
promising him life when all his ways are ways of death. (Ezek. 13:22.)
Have we not all much reason to lament our coming short of
this sweet and blessed spirituality of mind? Yet how can we know what it is
unless we have felt it, or at least some measure of it, in our own hearts?
Those dead in sin and the dead in a profession neither know it nor care to
know it. It is the living family of God alone who know its blessedness and
sweetness, for they alone are born of the Spirit, and therefore walk after
it, mind it, and enjoy it. And yet, what life there is in it, when felt! It
is the only real happiness the child of God enjoys here below; his companion
in solitude, his support in affliction, his comfort in sickness, and his
peace in death. For if it be "life," to have it must be an inward well of
water springing up in his soul; (John 4:14;) and if it be "peace," it is the
enjoyment of Christ's own best gift and last legacy. In fact, in it are all
the life and peace of religion, and without it religion is but a name and a
notion, without present grace or future glory. How sweet, at such moments,
is the word of God! What light shines upon the sacred page! what wisdom and
truth appear in every line! what a fullness, blessedness, and unction drop
from it, like honey from the honeycomb!
Such was Jeremiah's feeling—"Your words were found, and
ate them; and your word was unto me the joy and rejoicing of my heart—for I
am called by your name, O Lord God Almighty." (Jer. 15:16.) Such was David's
experience—"How sweet are your words unto my taste! yes, sweeter than honey
to my mouth!" (Ps. 119:103.) Why is this, but because we are then taught by
the same Spirit under whose inspiration the Scriptures were written, and are
under the same influences and the same holy anointing?
How sweet, then, is prayer! It is the language of
the heart, the ascending breath of the soul, the spiritual sacrifice laid
upon the golden altar, and ascends with the incense of the great and
glorious Intercessor. (Rev. 8:3, 4.) How sweet, then, is meditation,
as spiritual thoughts roll in upon the mind, spiritual feelings fill the
soul, and spiritual affections warm and melt the heart. This is to delight
oneself in the Lord, (Ps. 37:4, Isa. 58:14,) to feel that the ways of wisdom
are ways of pleasantness, (Prov. 3:17,) to taste and see that the Lord is
good, (Ps. 34:8,) to find how near, dear, and precious Christ is to those
who believe, (1 Pet. 2:7) and to see with every look of faith more and more
of his beauty and blessedness. No company is now wanted but the Lord's
company; and the more the heart is drawn up towards him, the more it
receives out of his fullness.
Here is life—the life of all religion, and of all
ordinances, preaching, praying, hearing, reading,
conversing—spiritual-mindedness is the life of them all. Without it all is
death in the pulpit and in the pew. You may have eloquence, ability, sound
doctrine, texts by scores, and anecdotes by handfuls; you may have voice,
rant, and gesture; and all this may pass for wonderful preaching, when there
is not a grain of spiritual life in the man or his ministry. And you may
have admiring hearers in the pew, full of vows, promises, and tears, and yet
not one grain of divine life in the heart. True religion is "a secret"—it
lies between God and the soul; and this secret, which is with those who fear
God, (Ps. 25:14,) is having the Spirit and mind of Christ; (Rom. 8:9; 1 Cor.
2:16;) and thus being "one spirit" with him, as joined to him by this holy
tie. (1 Cor. 6:17.)
This brings "peace." Enmity and war cannot exist between
friends, and the Lord says to his disciples, "you are my friends." He
himself is our peace. It comes through his blood, for by it he has made
peace. Spiritual-mindedness implies reconciliation, a being brought near;
union and communion, and a resting on the atoning blood and finished work of
the Son of God.
The Lord graciously bestow upon us much of this
spiritual-mindedness, and thus make us fit for the inheritance of the saints
in light; for without holiness, of which this is a main part, no man shall
see the Lord.
"For to be carnally minded is death; but to be
spiritually minded is life and peace." (Romans 8:6)