When Scripture says, “All things have become new,” what does it really mean?
Does salvation only apply to our spirits and hearts? What about our bodies and minds? Is there any provision in salvation’s plan for them?
In a moment of insight, I realized that “all” means all—nothing left out. Salvation doesn’t just affect our spirits; it touches every imaginable detail of our existence. Yes, that includes our minds.
I’ve struggled deeply with my mind—my thoughts, emotions, and mental patterns. Sometimes, I wish I could simply shed my mind, just to lay down the burden of it all. Over time, I’ve come to see that many problems are mental constructs. Put plainly: no mind, no problem. But how do you arrive at “no mind,” especially when your mind is constantly preoccupied with the past or fixated on the future, rarely allowing you to rest in the present?
This dilemma sets the stage for a profound inner battle—the soul caught between peace and turmoil, while the mind keeps interrupting joy, rest, and satisfaction. Often, this struggle is masked by the rise of unwanted habits—distractions that momentarily drown out unwanted emotions.
But what if we don’t just have one mind?
What if, in fact, we have two minds?
For lack of better terms (at least for now), I’ll call them the old and the new mind.
The old mind is deeply conditioned by the past and social programming. It projects past experiences into the future in an attempt to create a sense of security. Ironically, it often delivers failed predictions—but still convinces us that failed predictions are better than having no sense of control at all. It is this old mind that hurts us the most.
The new mind, however, is more subtle. Always present, yet easily overlooked. In our darkest moments—when the old mind has exhausted us—it gently emerges with timeless wisdom, healing, and grace. Like morning dew, it nourishes the dry, weary places of our soul.
It seems to me that both minds are operational in the human experience. One wounds, the other heals. One is chaotic, the other is calm. One tightens the knots of life, the other gently loosens them.
So the real question becomes: How do we live from the new mind and suffer less?
I don’t have a list of steps or strategies. But I do have an understanding, and with it, an attitude.
The understanding is this: whatever the old mind presents to you—its thoughts, its stories, its projections—is not as urgent, important, or permanent as it seems. The heartbreak you feel does not mean you’re broken forever. The loneliness you sense does not mean you are unloved. These thoughts and emotions aren’t always true. You can tell by how quickly they come and go.
This awareness helps you lose interest in the narratives of the old mind and turn your attention to what’s more real—joy, peace, harmony, and contentment.
That shift doesn’t come by force, but by recognizing the folly of the old mind and the wisdom of the new.
The new mind quietly beckons you to live from its realm of peace.
Why not heed its call?
Restpiration 