The beginnings, the first stirrings, of my faith seem like the first moments of my life: they happened in secret, deep within my mother's body, far from any possibility of recall, for no 'I' had yet been formed to remember. As I grew inside her, even by the time of my birth when every part of me had been formed, no memories survive. Were any laid down? Surely so, but they exist now like deep foundations, invisible, but supporting everything else above ground and familiar. So with faith: there may be beginnings we remember - key encounters with other believers, or a life crisis in which we cried out for help, or, rarely but wonderfully, an unbidden epiphany like St Paul's on the Damascus road. But we can all trace a back history to those times, too, which to our new eyes reveal the activity and grace of God long before we realised it. My spiritual life was gestating in secret before it came to my attention.
It was Bill Johnson, I think, who coined the term 'pre-believers' for those with no confession of faith yet. I like that. Not only does it capture a sturdy faith that God will one day reach them, but it also hints at the truth that He has already planted His seeds in them. It is not really the clear-cut 'them and us', 'saved or not', 'in or out', which typifies attitudes to non-Christians in so many of us. George Fox, the founder of the Quaker movement, referred to a 'divine light' in every man.
Piper asks: why is the death of Christ not seen as good news by all? To his two reasons, I would add another. It may not yet be the right time for them; the seed still has hidden growing to do, or the right season has not yet come round. This is why Jesus usually framed his teaching to mixed crowds in parables. Some will understand the parable there and then because they are ready to do so; others will remember it without understanding it, and later understand when they are ready.
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