Ancient rhythms: fresh inspiration

Five hundred years ago, a handful of believers dared to reimagine discipleship — not as a cultural inheritance, but as an embodied response to Jesus. Their practices proved life-changing. Their Scripture reading awakened hearts, their communities redefined belonging and their baptisms defied empires. As I trace the contours of my own faith journey, I find myself asking: Do their life-giving practices still shape my spirituality? And beyond personal reflection, I wonder: Could these ancient rhythms offer fresh inspiration for global mission today?

Most people have heard of the early Anabaptist practices of believers baptism, simplicity, truth-telling, multi-voiced church, and peace witness. Few have attempted to delve into the inner practices that nourish and sustain such visible actions. Yet, outward practices can easily become legalistic if they are not shaped by inner transformation.

In The New Anabaptists, Stuart Murray helpfully reminds us that early Anabaptist communities were incredibly diverse and limited surviving resources make it nearly impossible to extrapolate all their practices. When I recently studied the movement’s roots, two life-giving practices stood out with striking clarity — a sacred reading of scripture (sometimes called lectio divina) and spiritual accountability. These seemed to provide both spiritual nourishment and missional inspiration.

Sacred reading is a way of reading scripture slowly and prayerfully, often practiced in community. It leads to insight and understanding that a quick perusal of Scripture or a verse of the day slurped down with coffee cannot achieve. In 1525 in Zurich, communal Scripture reading resulted in George Blaurock, Felix Manz, and Conrad Grebel discerning that infant baptism was not biblical. It led them to engage in civil and religious disobedience by baptising each other. For Balthasar Hubmaier, a deep reading of scripture with a prayerful spirit transformed his preaching and missionary work. He even wrote a hymn for communal worship based on his reading, albeit eighteen verses long! The influence of Spirit-filled, contemplative scripture reading was also evidenced in the lives of people with no background in church leadership. House fellowships under the engineer Pilgrim Marpeck’s leadership spent countless hours in communal Scripture reading, which strengthened their personal faith and relationships. The testimonies of Anabaptist laypeople — many illiterate — in Martyrs Mirror show that a deep saturation in Scripture, both reading and listening, provided a solid foundation for exercising their faith in a turbulent world milieu.     

A recent U.K. study revealed an encouraging rise in Bible reading among churchgoers. In our church’s small group we’ve gone a step further, introducing the early Anabaptist practice of lectio divina. When it came time for our small group of people mostly new to faith or the church to multiply, we reflected collaboratively on the past eighteen months together. The highlight expressed by far was the learning experience and practice of reading and praying Scripture together. One young mother described how the practice had also inspired her to start reading Scripture at home and that it was transforming her attitude and actions. Prayerful engagement in Scripture, as practiced by early Anabaptist communities, renews hearts, reshapes communities, and ignites courageous witness to Jesus Christ.

Spiritual accountability was a key discipleship emphasis in the emerging Anabaptist movement. In fact, some contemporaries called them “new monastics.” In the Christendom era, going to church was a spectator sport for most. Pay the tithe, sing the songs, listen to the sermon. Box ticked for another week. Anabaptists believed that true church was a community of Spirit-filled believers in mutual accountability. Through baptism, they committed themselves to spiritual accountability as both a discipleship tool and an opportunity for correction and growth. Such accountability produced radical disciples willing to follow Jesus at any cost and (for the most part) forged unified communities of hospitality and deep friendship.

Such a practice flies in the face of individualism and personal freedom valued by western cultures today. It can be open to legalistic uniformity and even spiritual abuse. But the Anabaptist leaning to practice accountability within community, when done graciously, can help avoid such misuses. In the U.K. this year, the Anabaptist Mennonite Network has initiated Anabaptist group spiritual direction. Two
Makarios (meaning Blessed) groups, each consisting of five people, currently meet monthly over the year. Facilitators describe these groups as spaces for deep, vulnerable sharing — where participants are invited to move beyond doing to the importance of being in and with God. Over the past two years, journeying with a spiritual companion has opened space to explore parts of my inner life I rarely voice in our church small group setting. How might taking a vulnerable step into Anabaptist-inspired group accountability benefit not only my spirituality but the people I encounter daily?

When followers of Jesus immerse themselves in the communal rhythms of Anabaptist faith — Spirit-led engagement with Scripture and mutual accountability — missional energy becomes both dynamic and reciprocal expressions of God’s love. These practices anchor me amid a fractured landscape, where Christians often speak with hostility, public figures eclipse the presence of Christ, and national symbols vie for prominence beside the cross. Yet the historic Anabaptist way offers a steady compass for navigating today’s complexities.