The Carnal Mind is Enmity Against God pt.7 Spurgeon

Another thought concerning the universality of this statement. The whole of the mind is enmity against God. The text says, “The carnal mind is enmity against God,” that is, the entire man, every part of him—every power, every passion. It is a question often asked, “What part of man was injured by the Fall?” Some think that the Fall was only felt by the affections and that the intellect was unimpaired. This they argue from the wisdom of man and the mighty discoveries he has made, such as the law of gravitation, the steam engine and the sciences.

Now I consider these things as being a very mean display of wisdom, compared with what is to come in the next hundred years—and very small compared with what might have been, if man’s intellect had continued in its pristine condition. I believe the Fall crushed man entirely. Albeit, when it rolled like an avalanche upon the mighty temple of human nature some shafts were still left undestroyed and amidst the ruins you find here and there a flute, a pedestal, a cornice, a column not quite broken—yet the entire structure fell and its most glorious relics are fallen ones, leveled in the dust.

The whole of man is defaced. Look at our memory—is it not true that the memory is fallen? I can recollect evil things far better than those which savor of piety. I hear a ribald song—that same music of Hell shall jar in my ear when gray hairs shall be upon my head. I hear a note of holy praise—alas, it is forgotten! Memory grasps with an iron hand ill things, but the good she holds with feeble fingers. She suffers the glorious timbers from the forest of Lebanon to swim down the stream of oblivion, but she stops all the dross that floats from the foul city of Sodom. She will retain evil, she will lose good. Memory is fallen.

So are the affections. We love everything earthly better than we ought. We soon fix our heart upon a creature but very seldom upon the Creator. And when the heart is given to Jesus it is prone to wander. Look at the imagination, too. Oh, how can the imagination revel when the body is in an ill condition! Only give man something that shall well near intoxicate him. Drug him with opium and how will his imagination dance with joy! Like a bird uncaged, how will it mount with more than eagles’ wings! He sees things he had not dreamed of even in the shades of night. Why did not his imagination work when his body was in a normal state—when it was healthy? Simply because it is depraved. And until he had entered a foul element—until the body had begun to quiver with a kind of intoxication—the fancy would not hold its carnival.

We have some splendid specimens of what men could write when they have been under the accursed influence of ardent spirits. It is because the mind is so depraved that it loves something which puts the body into an abnormal condition. And here we have proof that the imagination itself has gone astray. So with the judgment—I might prove how ill it decides. So might I accuse the conscience and tell you how blind it is and how it winks at the greatest follies. I might review all our powers and write upon the brow of each one, “Traitor against Heaven! Traitor against God!” The whole “carnal mind is enmity against God.”