History is very important.

One of the ways Christian history is important is that the more we read the more we discover the core, foundation, and lifeblood of the Christian life. We find the cycles of renewal have certain themes throughout history, whether they are renewal in the Eastern Orthodox Church in Romania or Greece or renewal in Presbyterian families in the United States. Contrariwise, we also find that similar sinful patterns inhibit renewal and undermine healthy Christianity. These sinful patterns can be evidenced throughout history as the basic vices of avarice, passion, and pride.

Understanding history this way—seeing common themes across time, cultures, and theologies—helps us modern Christians avoid “majoring on minors,” that is, fixating on idiosyncratic issues that do not carry the weight of foundational doctrine. A proper study of history can keep us rooted in the essentials of our faith: belief in the Triune God and the atoning work of Christ on the cross for our redemption. In other words, studying Christian history with an eye toward patterns of renewal and revival can bring about greater Christian unity and fellowship among believers of all faith traditions. In that way, we can see a reflection of our own faith in those from different traditions, times, and cultures.

This week, as I have continued reading through Thomas à Kempis’ The Imitation of Christ, I came across a passage that set off synapses in my brain and caused me to ponder various epochs and families of Christianity around the world and through time. He wrote:

We must examine our outward and inward affairs and set them both in order, for both are necessary for our spiritual progress. If you cannot be at one with yourself all the time, try to be so at least once a day, particularly in the morning or evening. In the morning make your plans; in the evening go over your conduct, reviewing how you behaved this day in word, deed, and thought, for in these you may often have displeased God or your neighbor . . .[1]

My mind first considered the Jesuit practice of examen, which reflects the Ignatian concerns about the understanding of sin and grace, and keeping a rhythm of prayer in the morning and examining the state of your soul[2] in the evening. I recalled that the spirituality of the University of Paris, where Ignatius studied, was patterned after the fifteenth-century Brothers and Sisters of the Common Life, the renewal community in which Thomas thrived. We can trace a direct connection between this movement and the Protestant reformers.[3]

Then I considered the ancient Christians. They, too, practiced patterns of prayer every morning, often facing toward the east, and had prayers at the end of the day. In the mornings they rose usually at sunrise as a reminder of the resurrection. These practices became the backdrop of the writings in the Philokalia,[4] which included repetition of the Jesus Prayer.  

In most Christian traditions before the Reformation, Christians had morning prayer (lauds) and evening prayer (vespers). The day opened with prayer and closed with prayer. Again, my mind lit up with additional examples of such Christian spiritual practices across the centuries.

John Wesley, who was very methodical in his seeking holiness (hence the term “Methodist”), rose early for prayer and devotion, at times marked off every hour with prayer and reflection, and then ended the day in reflection. In fact, Wesley’s “bands” or “classes” would end their days examining themselves in small groups using twenty-two questions.[5]

I could go on. Consider Jonathan Edwards, John Sung, and Sadhu Sundar Singh. Each of these spiritual giants, in the context of their respective traditions, started the day in reflection, silence, and prayer and ended the day with some type of personal reflection or examination. Two great devotional classics underscore this practice: Charles H. Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening[6] and John Baillie’s A Diary of Private Prayer.[7]  Spurgeon continues to be globally popular as a guide for morning and evening devotional scriptural readings, while Baillie’s remains theologically and spiritually rich with its month’s worth of morning and evening prayers.

As I consider all this, I remember an additional critical point that is often forgotten about this pattern of devotion, which I believe is the foundation for renewal: all devotion must include a dimension that embraces “life for others.” In other words, none of these great saints saw such personal devotion as an end in itself, as if to say, “I had my morning and evening devotions and now I feel so much better about me!”

No. All of these saints and their practices over the centuries included what we might broadly call “mission.” I return to the quotation from Thomas:

Never be completely idle but be reading or writing or praying or meditating or working in some way for the common good.

The community of the “Brethren of the Common Life” was dedicated to Christian formation in order to serve others. Their communities copied books, created gardens, and most importantly taught children to read and adults to read the Bible. Ignatius of Loyola’s devotional practices existed for the sake of mission: his Society of Jesus spread around the world doing pioneering work to build contextually rich worshipping communities.

Thomas à Kempis highlights this morning and evening rhythm which has been a common thread of robust and renewal forms of Christianity. So, in my evening’s vespers I will be reflecting on this “for the common good.”

That is why history is very important.

[1] Chapter 19
[2] Reflection upon how you lived according to God’s grace during the day.
[3] Jean Calvin also studied at the University of Paris, and Martin Luther studied with the Brethren of the Common Life at Magdeburg. Direct connections with common spirituality.
[4] St. Nikodimos of the Holy Mountain and St. Makarios of Corinth (compiled by) and translated by G.E.H. Palmer (New York: Faber and Faber), 1983.
[5] “Everyday Disciples: John Wesley’s 22 Questions.”
[6] First published as Morning by Morning (1865) and Evening by Evening (1868).
[7] Revised edition by Susanna Wright (NY: Scribner), 2014.

Dr. Scott W. Sunquist, President of Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, is author of the “Attentiveness” blog. He welcomes comments, responses, and good ideas.