May 7

The mind of the flesh is death, but the mind of the Spirit is life and peace, — Rom 8:6 BSB

One of the most blessed signs of regenerating grace and a sure evidence of God’s love filling the heart is spiritual-mindedness, which Paul describes as “life and peace.” To be spiritually-minded, to live and walk under the influence of the Holy Spirit, with the heart and affections lifted from this vain world to where Jesus sits at the right hand of God, is true “life”—the life of God in the soul, filled with present blessedness and the hope of future glory. It is also “peace,” for real peace and rest are found in this union and communion with a glorified Redeemer.

In this state of spiritual-mindedness, in these heavenly affections, and in this communion with the Lord at His throne of grace, the essence of godliness is found. We know from experience the sweetness of this spiritual-mindedness and its blessed effects. It is the key to unlocking the Scriptures, for we read them with the same divine influence by which they were written. It opens the door to prayer, for under these calm and peaceful emotions, the soul instinctively seeks communion with God. It nurtures meditation, as the truth of God is thought over, fed upon, and becomes bread from heaven. It empowers preaching, for without a softened and engaged heart, the message will feel cold and hard to those who hear. It also breathes life into spiritual conversation, for how can we speak with power or profit if we are not spiritually-minded, with our hearts delighting in the things of God?

But to be carnally-minded while on our knees in prayer, with the Bible open before us, in church, at the Lord’s table, or in fellowship with God’s people—what a burden to our spirit, what a condemnation to our conscience! It can fill us with doubt and fear, making us question whether our relationship with God is right when we feel so distant from Him.

It’s true that even the most devoted saints and servants of God go through dark and dry seasons when the life of God within them seems almost invisible, hidden by the mud-banks of their fallen nature. Yet, despite these times, the life of God continues, sometimes receiving a ray of light from heaven, revealing that it is still there, quietly making its way toward the ocean of eternal love.

These difficult seasons are instructive for the saints of God. They reveal the reality of the flesh, showing how disconnected it is from the life of God. They remind us where our strength truly lies—not in ourselves, but in Christ. Through this painful experience, we learn that in our flesh, nothing good dwells, and no effort of our own can maintain the life of God within us. Everything we are, everything we believe, know, and experience—our abilities, gifts, and grace—flows solely from the undeserved and unceasing goodness of God. In this hard school, we learn our emptiness and nothingness, realizing that without Christ, we can do nothing. Through this, we are clothed with humility, relying not on our own strength or wisdom, but knowing that Christ must always be our all in all.