林立豐於二〇二六年五月三日在聖馬田堂之講道
經文：使徒行傳 17.22–31，彼得前書 1.1–2, 3.13–末，約翰福音 14.15–21
A sermon preached at St Martin-in-the-Fields on 3 May 2026, by Joseph Lam
Readings for address: Acts 17.22–31, 1Peter 1.1–2, 3.13–end, John 14.15–21
今日三段經文，都帶我們去到「邊緣」。
彼得寫信給散居在羅馬世界邊緣的初代信徒；保羅站在雅典，面對一個充滿各種思想、偶像和不同聲音的城市，與哲學家辯論；耶穌在最後晚餐後，離別前安慰門徒，應許他們不會成為孤兒，因為真理的聖靈將要與他們同在。
今日想和大家思考的問題是：「當我們身處邊緣，在融入、安頓、身份與安全的渴望之間掙扎時，我們如何活出神國的豐盛？」
彼得前書是寫給「那被揀選，分散，寄居的人……就是藉着聖靈得成聖潔，以致順服耶穌基督的人。」這些初代基督徒是 resident aliens (parepidemoi)，是寄居者，是散居者，是住在羅馬、卻不完全屬於那裏的人。
他們活在羅馬帝國之下，受着不同制度、文化、權力和價值觀的壓力和拉扯。他們中間有些從猶太社羣走出來，有些可能剛剛在基督裏找到新的身份。他們聚在一起，成為小小的羣體；但他們也同樣有掙扎。他們在問：我們到底是誰？我們屬於哪裏？我們怎樣在這個地方忠心地生活？彼得前書幫助初代信徒回應這些問題。
但這種感覺和掙扎，對我們今日在倫敦、在英國的基督徒羣體來説，可能並不陌生。
過去幾年，很多香港人持BNO簽證來到英國。網上充滿各式各樣的敎學：怎樣申請簽證、怎樣租屋、怎樣報稅、怎樣申請學校。近期就流行怎樣考 Life in the UK Test，怎樣預約快證。有人已經很適應，很明白英國制度，生活融入無問題；也有人仍然在邊緣，擔心身份、工作、語言、家庭、和孩子的將來。
對不少人來説，這幾年不只是搬到另一個地方生活，也是重新思考身份的時間。隨着我們生活在一個更加多元的社會裏，我們開始問自己：我們如何活出並承載自己的膚色、文化與傳統？我們如何既融入這個地方，又不失去自己？
但融入不只是情感和文化上的事，也常常變成一種需要被證明的事情。我們要證明自己懂英語，證明自己明白制度，證明自己願意貢獻，證明自己可以在這裏生活。Life in the UK Test也許是一個很好的例子。我們知道考好這個試，不代表我們已經在文化上真正安頓下來；但我們仍然要做，因為制度要求我們這樣做。
這種需要證明自己的壓力，可能會進入我們的內心。我們會擔心自己是否足夠融入，足夠安全，足夠被接納。我們會擔心自己的位置是否穩固，將來是否有保障。
而這不只是近年才來英國的香港人才會面對的問題。很多早已在英國生活多年的華人移民，甚至第二代、第三代，也未必能夠完全脫離這種張力。有人在這裏讀書、工作、成家、退休，已經很熟悉制度，英文流利，生活穩定；但內心深處，仍然可能常常覺得自己要比別人更努力、更守規矩、更成功，才配得被人接納。有時我們會以為自己已經「融入得很好」，就不會再受這些恐懼影響。但對匱乏的恐懼可以用很文明、很成功、很體面的方式藏起來。它可能藏在我們對子女成績的焦慮裏，藏在我們不敢犯錯的完美主義裏，藏在我們害怕失去面子的沉默裏，也藏在我們努力證明自己是「好移民」、「好公民」、「有貢獻的人」之中。
這些焦慮背後，往往不只是個人的性格問題，而是一種更深的匱乏感：好像如果我們不夠成功、不夠體面、不夠融入，就會失去安全感，失去尊嚴，失去歸屬。於是，我們很自然會抓緊那些看得見、可以量度、可以證明的東西：簽證、收入、成績、語言能力、社會地位、政治代表、別人對我們的評價。這些東西本身並不是壞事，但這正是散居者生活在邊緣時最深的試探：不是單單害怕自己未能安頓，而是開始相信，只有世界完全承認我、接納我、保障我，我才可以真正安穩。
這種試探不只是個人的，也屬於我們整個時代。今日的挑戰，很多時候不是以直接攻擊信仰的形式出現。它更常以另一套「真理」、另一種現實、另一種安全感的承諾出現。
保羅在雅典面對的，也是這樣一個世界。那裏有不同的哲學、神明和生活方式；有享樂主義（伊壁鳩魯派），也有斯多葛哲學；雅典人不反對宗敎；甚至會為「未識之神」獻上祭品。在更廣闊的羅馬世界裏，階級、權力、庇護制度、地位競爭，也慢慢滲入信徒羣體之中。早期敎會也曾面對分黨、爭奪位置的試探——「我是屬保羅的」、「我是屬亞波羅的」、「我是屬磯法的」。這些都不是古代才有的問題。
我們今日也活在很多聲音之中。不同社交平台、政治口號、文化想像和身份敘事，都在爭奪甚麽是真實，甚麽是安全，甚麽是British Value，誰值得信任，誰應該被懷疑。甚至「真理」這個字本身，也可以被用來建立另一個封閉的世界，塑造對立的羣體：要求人的忠誠，塑造人的恐懼，餵養人的憤怒。
在這樣的時代，特別在剛剛的選舉週，我們可能更強烈感受到這種焦慮：這個社會到底變成甚麽樣子了？我們明明渴望良善、公義和安穩，卻常常覺得自己活在恐懼、分裂和懷疑之中，離自己所盼望，也想融入的社會越來越遠。
但尤其在這些時刻，我們需要問自己一個誠實的問題：我們是否有時比起在基督裏安頓，更加擔心自己能否在英國、甚至在這世界裏安頓？
我們在英國預備settlement，但今日的經課提醒我們：更深的 settlement，是安放在基督裏面。我們今日要處理在英國法律上的身份，但我們屬上帝子民的身份，早已透過基督，在真理的聖靈中膏立。
這正是彼得前書一開始所宣告的身份。彼得提醒我們：基督徒的身份很奇妙。你是散居者，但你也是被揀選的人。你是寄居者，但你不是被遺棄的人。你可能在世界裏尋找安身之處，但在基督裏，神已經給你一個家。我們不是只為求生存而散居。我們是在散居中被上帝塑造，被聖靈引導，被呼召順服耶穌。
彼得沒有叫初代信徒策略性隱形。他不是説：「你們低調一點，避開麻煩，保住自己就好。」他説：「只要心裏奉主基督為聖；有人問你們心中盼望的理由，就要隨時準備答覆，以溫柔、敬畏的心回答。」這是一種信仰姿態。不是恐懼地退縮，也不是憤怒地反擊；不是被世界同化，也不是與世界隔絕。彼得前書充滿這種張力：在苦難中尋找喜樂；在羞辱中學習謙卑；在被人誤解毀謗時等待上帝最終的辯白和伸冤。基督徒在邊緣生活，不是靠爭奪位置來證明自己，而是靠一種被神安放的生命來見證盼望。
匱乏的恐懼説：你要抓緊身份，抓緊地位，抓緊別人的認可，否則你就會失去自己。但保羅説：我們生活、動作、存留，都在乎神。不是在乎城市的掌聲，不是在乎文化的優越，也不是在乎我們能否掌控自己的將來。
耶穌在今天的福音裏説：「我要求父，父就賜給你們另外一位保惠師，使他永遠與你們同在。他就是真理的靈。」他不是説：「你們以後不會再感到不安。」他説的是：真理的聖靈要與你們同在，並且住在你們裏面。
耶穌也説：「你們若愛我，就必遵守我的命令。」
這句説話很容易被聽成另一種壓力：好像我們又要證明自己，這次不是向世界證明，而是向上帝證明。但耶穌的意思不是這樣。他不是把另一個Life in the Kingdom Test放在我們面前，要我們用表現換取歸屬。順服，遵守耶穌的命令不是為了證明自己得被神接納；順服是因為我們已經在基督裏被接納。我們生命外在所流露的順服，正是聖靈在我們裏面更新、塑造、轉化的可見記號。愛的命令不是新的重擔，而是被聖靈釋放出來的新生命。
所以，當真理的聖靈住在我們裏面，我們開始慢慢活出另一種生命：在憤怒中學習忍耐，在分歧中仍然保持恩慈，在壓力下仍然誠實，在焦慮中成為和平的人。
這就是聖靈的果子。正如加拉太書所説，聖靈的果子是仁愛、喜樂、和平、忍耐、恩慈、良善、信實、溫柔、節制。這些果子不是在真空中生長的，而是在邊緣、在壓力、在不安、在我們最想抓緊安全感的時候，被聖靈培養出來。
所以我們可以問自己：
當我憤怒時，我是否正在學習忍耐？
當有分歧時，我是否仍然保持良善和恩慈？
當我承受壓力時，我是否仍然誠實？
當身邊的人面對焦慮時，我是否能夠帶來和平？
當我害怕失去位置、身份、安全時，我是否仍然記得：我的生命已經被安放在基督裏？
我們不是靠聖靈的果子去換取上帝的愛；相反，是因為上帝先愛我們，這些果子才可能在我們裏面生長。每一次我們來到聖餐桌前，這個真理就重新向我們顯明。
基督把自己給我們。不是因為我們已經完全安頓，不是因為我們已經完全明白，不是因為我們已經完全剛強，而是因為他先愛我們。他在餅和酒中迎接我們，藉着聖靈與我們同在，堅固我們，提醒我們：你們屬於我。
所以，弟兄姊妹，作為被揀選的散居者，我們今日被呼召的不是恐懼，而是跟隨基督：在混亂中尋找真理，在焦慮中實踐和平，在邊緣中活出盼望，並在這城市中以溫柔和敬畏，成為讓人看見上帝國度的一羣人。願真理的聖靈作我們的保惠師，幫助我們明白、分辨、順服和跟隨；奉聖父、聖子、聖靈的名，阿們。
Today’s three readings took us to ‘the edge.’
Peter wrote to the early Christians scattered across the margins of the Roman world. Paul stood in Athens, facing a city full of pagan ideologies, philosophies and idols. Jesus, after the Last Supper and before his departure, comforts his disciples, promising that they will not be left orphaned, because the Spirit of Truth will be with them.
The question I want us to reflect on today: When we live on the edge, pulled by the desire to integrate, to settle, to find identity and security, how do we live out the abundance of the kingdom of God?
At the beginning of 1 Peter, we read: ‘To the exiles of the dispersion… who have been chosen according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, through sanctification by the Spirit, to be obedient to Jesus Christ.’
These early Christians were resident aliens (parepidemoi). They were sojourners, scattered people, people who lived there but did not fully belong there.
They lived under the Roman Empire, under the pressure of different cultures, powers, and values. Some of them had come out of Jewish communities; some may have only just found a new identity in Christ. They gathered together in small communities; but they also struggled. They asked: Who are we? Where do we belong? How do we live faithfully in this place?
This feeling may not be unfamiliar to our community today, here in London and in the UK.
Over the past few years, many Hong Kong people have come to the UK on BNO visas. The internet is full of all kinds of tutorials: how to apply for a visa, how to rent a home, how to pay tax, how to apply for schools. Recently, it’s all about passing the Life in the UK Test, and how to book a fast-track visa appointment. Some people have adapted well, understand the British system, and have integrated without much difficulty. Others are still on the edge, worrying about their legal statuses, work, language, family, and their children’s future.
For many people, these past few years was not just about relocating to another place. It has been a time of re-discovering their own identity. We now live in a much more diverse society (ethnically, culturally, linguistically compared to Hong Kong), for many it is perhaps the first time we ask ourselves: How do we carry our skin colour, our culture, and our traditions? How do we integrate into this place without losing ourselves?
But integration is not just an emotional or cultural matter. It often becomes something that has to be proven. We have to prove that we speak good enough English, prove that we understand the system, prove that we are willing to contribute, prove that we can live here. The Life in the UK Test may be a good example. We know that passing the test does not mean we have truly settled culturally; but we still have to do it, because the system requires it.
This pressure to prove ourselves can seep into our being as a constant state of worrying. We worry whether we are integrated well enough, secure enough, accepted enough.
And this is not something faced by Hong Kong people who have recently arrived in the UK alone. Many Chinese migrants who have lived here for many years, second- and third-generations, may not be entirely free from this tension. Some have studied, worked, built families, and retired here. They know the system well, speak fluent English, and live stable lives. Yet deep inside, they may still feel that they have to work harder than others, behave better than others, and be more successful than others in order to be accepted.
Sometimes we may even think that because we have ‘integrated well,’ these fears no longer affect us. But the fear of scarcity can hide itself in very civilised, successful, and respectable ways. It may hide in our anxiety over our children’s grades, in our perfectionism and fear of making mistakes, in our silence because we are afraid of losing face, and in our efforts to prove that we are ‘good immigrants,’ ‘good citizens,’ and ‘people who contribute.’
Behind these anxieties, there is often not just a matter of individual personality, but a deeper sense of scarcity: as if there is not enough space, not enough opportunity, not enough acceptance, not enough protection; as if, unless we are successful enough, respectable enough, integrated enough, we will lose our security, our dignity, and even our belonging.
So we naturally cling to things that are visible, measurable, and provable: visas, income, grades, language ability, social status, political representation, and other people’s opinions of us. These things are not bad by nature. But it is the deepest temptation for scattered people living on the edge: not simply being afraid that we have not yet settled, but beginning to believe that only when the world fully recognises me, accepts me, and protects me, can I truly be secure.
This temptation is not personal. It belongs to our whole generation. The challenges we face today often do not come as direct attacks on our faith. More often, they come as another version of ‘truth,’ another reality, another promise and source of security.
Paul faced such a world in Athens. There were different philosophies, gods, and ways of life; hedonism (Epicureans), and Stoic philosophy were rampant. The Athenians were not opposed to religion; they offered worship to an ‘unknown god.’ In the wider Roman world, hierarchy, power, systems of patronage, and competition for status also began to seep into communities of faith. The early Church had to face the temptations of factionalism and the struggle for position: ‘I belong to Paul,’ ‘I belong to Apollos,’ ‘I belong to Cephas.’ These are not ancient problems.
We too live among many voices today. Different media platforms, political slogans, cultural imaginations, and identity narratives all compete to define what is real, what is safe, what it means to be British, who is trustworthy, and who should be suspected. Even the word ‘truth’ itself can be used to build another closed world, to form opposing communities: demanding people’s loyalty, shaping people’s fears, and fuelling people’s anger.
In such an age, especially after this election week, we may feel this anxiety even more strongly: What is this society becoming? We long for goodness, justice, and stability, yet we often feel that we are living amid fear, division, and suspicion, moving further away from the society we hope for and want to belong to.
But especially in moments like these, we need to ask ourselves a very honest question: Are we sometimes more anxious about whether we can settle in the UK, or even settle in this world, than whether we are settled in Christ?
We seek settlement in the UK, but today’s readings remind us that a deeper settlement is to be placed in Christ. We worried about our legal status, but our identity as God’s people has already been cemented through Christ, anointed in the Spirit of Truth.
This is the identity proclaimed at the beginning of 1 Peter. Peter reminds us that the Christian identity is strange yet wonderful. You are scattered, but you are also chosen. You are a sojourner, but you are not abandoned. You may be searching for a place to rest in this world, but in Christ, God has already given you a deeper home. We are not scattered merely to survive. We are being shaped by God in our scattering, led by the Spirit, and called to obey Jesus.
Peter is not telling Christians to become strategically invisible. He is not saying, ‘Keep your heads down, avoid trouble, and protect yourselves.’ He says: ‘In your hearts sanctify Christ as Lord. Always be ready to make your defence to anyone who demands from you an account of the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and reverence.’
This is a deep posture of faith. It is not fearful retreat, nor angry retaliation; not assimilation into the world, nor separation from the world. 1 Peter is full of this tension: finding joy in suffering, learning humility in humiliation, waiting for God’s final vindication when misunderstood. Christians living on the edge do not prove themselves by fighting for position, but bear witness to hope through a life that has been placed securely in God.
The fear of scarcity says: You must cling to worldly identity, cling to status, cling to security, cling to other people’s recognition, otherwise you will lose yourself. But Paul says: ‘In him we live and move and have our being.’ Not in the city’s applause, not in cultural superiority, and not in our ability to control our future.
Jesus says in today’s Gospel: ‘I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you for ever. This is the Spirit of truth.’ He does not say, ‘You will never feel anxious again.’ He says: the Spirit of Truth will be with you, and will dwell in you.
Jesus also says: ‘If you love me, you will keep my commandments.’
This saying can easily be heard as another source of pressure: as if we now have to prove ourselves again, not this time to the world, but to God. But that is not what Jesus means. He is not placing another Life in the Kingdom Test before us, asking us to earn belonging through performance.
In the Gospel, obedience is not about proving that we deserve to be accepted. Obedience is possible because we have already been accepted in Christ. The commandment of love is not a new burden, but a new life renewed by the Holy Spirit.
So when the Spirit of Truth dwells in us, we are no longer driven only by the fear of scarcity. We no longer live only by competing for position, protecting face, and proving our worth. We begin, slowly, to live another kind of life: learning patience in anger, remaining kind in disagreement, staying truthful under pressure, becoming people of peace amid anxiety.
This is the fruit of the Spirit. As Galatians says, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. These fruits do not grow in a vacuum. They are slowly cultivated by the Spirit on the edge, under pressure, in insecurity, and precisely when we most want to cling to our own sense of safety.
So we may ask ourselves:
When I am angry, am I learning patience?
When there is disagreement, am I still practising goodness and kindness?
When I am under pressure, am I still truthful?
When those around me are anxious, can I bring peace?
When I am afraid of losing position, identity, or security, do I still remember: my life has already been placed in Christ?
We do not use the fruit of the Spirit to earn God’s love. On the contrary, it is because God first loved us that these fruits can grow in us. Every time we come to the Eucharistic, this truth is shown to us again.
Christ gives himself to us. Not because we have already fully settled. Not because we already fully understand. Not because we are already strong. But because he first loved us. In the bread and wine, he welcomes us, strengthens us, and reminds us: you belong to me.
So, brothers and sisters, as chosen resident aliens, what we are called to today is not fear, but following. Seek truth amid confusion; practise peace amid anxiety; live hope on the edge; Answer the questions in human hearts with gentleness and reverence in this city, and become a people through whom others can see the kingdom of God. May the Spirit of Truth be our Advocate, help us understand, discern, obey and follow.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
