​英格蘭足總盃有一個傳統，自1927年以來，每年決賽開球前十分鐘，都會同唱聖詩Abide With Me [按：即《生命聖詩》499首「求主同住」、《普天頌讚》481首「夕陽西沉歌」]。可是到了1975年，當時的英格蘭足總認為，英格蘭已經變成一個世俗的國家，決賽奏起「求主同住」已經沒有意思，於是一度決定取消。這是多麼錯誤的決定，馬上受到各界猛烈批評。事實證明，沒有「求主同住」這首詩歌，就不似是足總盃決賽。
 
到底發生了什麼事呢？為什麼十萬名球迷，會堅持要唱一首用以馬忤斯路上門徒與耶穌對話作為靈感的十九世紀讚美詩？我個人認為這與尊嚴有關：這一首關於死亡和復活的讚歌，將足球比賽短暫的亢奮，提升到了更高的層次。這也與習慣有關：在熾熱的氣氛中，這首詩歌提供了反思的時刻。這首詩歌成為一項國家儀式，只有足總盃決賽隊伍同他們的球迷才能經歷，參與其中的人，自然感覺非常特別。但最重要的是，有機會加入萬人大合唱，成為天使歌聲的一部分，簡直是天堂般的體驗。足總表示要取消唱詩環節之後，人們才意識到這詩歌觸動了他們靈魂深處的某些東西。
 
事實上，「求主同住」詩歌的蹤影，隨處可見。馬勒（Gustav Mahler）第九號交響曲採用了「求主同住」的旋律。[一戰期間因為幫助盟軍士兵而被德軍當局判處死刑的護士]伊迪絲·卡維爾（Edith Cavell），在布魯塞爾被處決前一天晚上也唱了這首歌。所以，我想和你們一起反思「與我同住」這句話的力量。
 
馬丁路德金在他最後一本著作中說：「用愛來實現正義的要求，就是展示力量的最好方式。用愛糾正一切違反仁愛原則的事情，就是彰顯正義的最好方式。」耶穌在受難前的臨別贈言中，用了很多篇幅去談論愛。不過，他並沒有使用權力、正義這類「巴閉」的字眼。相反，他使用了溫柔的措辭，例如是「常在我裏面」（abide），亦即是「同住」、「同在」。如果在面對強權時，愛應該通過正義去展現，那麼耶穌似乎在說，從長遠來看，愛應該通過「同在」去展現。面對壓迫和謊言，我們組織民眾、發起運動、抗議、譴責和維護正義真理是一回事。但是通過長年累月的「同在」，變得更加謙卑、更加溫和、更加能夠持之以恆，又是另一回事。
 
所謂「同住」，聽起來好像很簡單，要實行卻不容易。我有一個朋友，每當他去看望父母時，都會遵行一個 48 小時規則，即是肯定不會停留超過兩晚。初回家門的噓寒問暖，的確是滿載熱情的真誠問候；溫馨的歡迎也使人心情振奮，精神煥發；但互道近況過後，當短期探訪從一個特殊場合變為長期共同居住，他就感覺自己被當成小孩般對待。他少年時的家庭生活模式又再重現。他和他的父母還沒有找到將他當作成年人的共同生活方式。事實證明，「同住」根本不是一件容易的事。
 
約翰福音第 15 章和講述耶穌復活後顯現的章節，可以說是改變了我們對永生的一貫看法。在教會歷史之中，有一段很長的時間，基督徒一直認為，他們的塵世生活，是考驗他們能否進入天國生活的場所。進入天國的主要條件是相信耶穌死而復活的力量、罪得赦免和永生，以及生命更新的證據。如果你符合以上的條件，進天國應該沒什麼問題。
 
但然後又怎樣呢？符合進天國的條件，那又如何？我們該如何真正地與彼此「同在」、又與三位一體的神「同在」呢？我們將如何可以留下、維持、建立我們的家，並永遠與這個家同在？對此我們似乎很少有反思。耶穌在這裏挑戰我們去探索，永恆、榮耀的同住，究竟意味著什麼。祂邀請我們今天與上帝、與別人、與自己、以至與整個受造世界同住，我們在永恆中要有怎樣的「同在」，在今天也應當一樣。我們可以稱之為「現在就活出上帝的未來」。
 
這種「同在」就是人類存在的目的，也是耶穌與我們同住的原因：這是我們的命運，由道成肉身的耶穌所揭示，是天父所喜悅的，由聖靈每天賜給我們的。它的意思是：福音是關於人類和受造世界、永遠與彼此同在、與三位一體的神同在。
 
這並不是一個 48 小時後就會褪色的「同住」。這是一種足以在足總盃決賽中激勵十萬球迷的「同住」。這比他們打算觀看的比賽更加激動人心、更加持久。但我們還沒有講到最重要的部分。請留意，這種同住與足總盃決賽讚美詩中的同住，有何微妙的不同。聖詩「求主同住」確實談到基督除去了死亡的毒刺，確實指向永生和天堂。但這都是從信徒的角度出發的。
 
耶穌在約翰福音第 15 章說的話卻有些不同。它們不是從信徒的角度出發。這些話確實像天使的歌聲一樣，在後世不同時代迴響。但是關鍵就在這裏：這些話所呼應的，不是我們對耶穌的邀請，而是耶穌對我們的邀請。在人類存活的歷程裏，「與我同住」的呼聲不斷迴響：不是我們臨終時對耶穌微聲呼求說：「與我同住」；相反，是降生為嬰兒、傳道、被釘十字架、復活和升天的基督，對我們說：「與我同住」。
 
讓我們仰望耶穌：仰望祂打開心扉，伸出雙臂擁抱我們；仰望祂溫柔、體貼和關愛的目光。祂正在向我們提出邀請，懇切要求我們說：「與我同住。」

In 1975 the Football Association decided, since England was now a secular country, there was no use playing ‘Abide with me’ ten minutes before kick-off at the FA Cup Final, as had been done since 1927. How wrong it was: outrage ensued. It turned out it wasn’t the Cup Final without ‘Abide with me.’
What was going on? Why did 100,000 supporters insist on singing a nineteenth-century hymn based on the two disciples’ words to Jesus on the Emmaus Road? I suggest it was something about dignity: a hymn about death and resurrection put the ephemera of football on a higher plane. It was also about familiarity: it offered a moment of reflection in a fervid day. It felt special to be part of a national ritual only cup finalists and their fans experienced. But most of all, it was about what it means to join your voice with a chorus of angels. It was an experience of heaven. Not until it was removed did people realise it stirred something deep in their soul.
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In fact, ‘Abide with me’ pops up everywhere. Gustav Mahler included it in his ninth symphony. Edith Cavell sang it on the evening before her execution in Brussels. I want to reflect with you on the power of those words: ‘Abide with me.’

In his last book, Revd Dr Martin Luther King Junior said this. ‘Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice. Justice at its best is love correcting everything that stands against love.’ In his farewell discourses, Jesus talks a lot about love. But he doesn’t use grand words like power and justice. He uses tender terms like ‘abide.’ If justice is the form love takes in the face of power, then it seems Jesus is saying abiding is the form love takes over a long period of time. It’s one thing to organise, campaign, protest, denounce and uphold justice and truth in the face of oppression and falsehood. But it’s another, humbler, gentler, more sustainable thing to be formed in the habits of abiding.

Abiding isn’t as simple as it sounds. I have a friend who adheres to what he calls the 48-hour rule. When he visits his parents, he’s sure never to stay for longer than two nights. The greetings on arrival are fulsome and genuine; the warmth and welcome are heartening and restorative; but once news has been shared, and the visit transitions from special occasion to elongated co-dwelling, he feels himself becoming infantilised. The patterns of his youth reappear. He and his parents are yet to find an adult way to abide. It turns out abiding isn’t easy at all.

What we’re looking at here in John 15, and in Jesus’ resurrection appearances, is a transformation in the way we think about eternal life. For most of the church’s history, Christians have thought of their earthly lives as a testing ground for entry to the life of heaven. The chief qualifications are belief in the power of Jesus’ death and resurrection, the forgiveness of sin and the life everlasting, and evidence of a suitably transformed life. If you have those you should be fine.

But then what and so what? How shall we actually abide with one another and the Trinity? How will we remain, keep, make our home, be with eternally? There’s been little reflection on that. Jesus is here challenging us to explore what that everlasting, glorious abiding might entail. He invites us to abide today with God and one another, with ourselves and the creation, the way we shall eternally. We can call it ‘living God’s future now.’

This abiding is the purpose for which existence came about, and the reason Jesus came to dwell with us: it’s our destiny, revealed by the incarnate Jesus, embraced by the Father, offered every day by the Spirit. What it’s saying is this: the gospel is about humankind and the creation, abiding with one another and the Trinity forever.

That’s not a co-dwelling that goes stale after 48 hours. That’s an abiding to inspire 100,000 fans at an FA Cup final. It’s infinitely more thrilling and utterly more lasting than the match they thought they’d come to watch. But we haven’t yet reached the most important part. Notice how this abiding is subtly different from that in the Cup Final hymn. The hymn ‘Abide with me’ does speak of Christ removing the sting of death. It does refer to eternal life and heaven. Yet it’s all from the believer’s point of view.

Jesus’ words in John 15 say something different. They aren’t from the believer’s point of view. They do echo like a chorus of angels singing through the ages; but this is the point: they echo not with our invitation to Jesus, but with Jesus’ invitation to us. The words ‘Abide with me’ echo through existence, not as words we whisper to Jesus on our deathbed; instead as the words the infant, ministering, crucified, risen, and ascended Christ says to us.

Look at him; behold his outstretched, open-hearted and embracing arms; see his welcoming, understanding and adoring gaze. He’s offering, inviting, imploring us: ‘Abide with me.’