第１章
被帶離家，是為了更大的家
「亞伯蘭就照著耶和華的吩咐去了。」—創世記12：4
第一次真正意識到「離家」這件事，
是在桃園機場外，風迎面吹來的那一刻。
那不是一種戲劇性的感受，也不是情緒的高峰，
而是一種清楚卻安靜的確信—
我知道，我並不只是離開一個城市，
而是正在被帶往一個更大的地方。
離開的是香港，
一個我出生、成長、熟悉到幾乎不需要思考的地方。
但我也同時意識到，我正在離開的，
不只是地理上的家，
而是一種早已內化的生活節奏與價值結構。
香港是一座把人推得很快的城市。
快到人幾乎來不及停下來問：「我是誰？」
升學、補習、效率、競爭，
成為理所當然的軌道。
大多數人並不是刻意選擇這樣活，
而是在不知不覺中，被整個系統推著往前。
在那樣的環境裡，我也曾努力適應、努力跟上。
直到某一天，一個問題突然浮現，
而且怎麼也無法忽視：
「難道人生，就只是這樣嗎？」
那時候我並不知道，
這並不是叛逆，也不是迷惘，
而是上帝正在輕輕敲門。
祂沒有用轟然巨響，
也沒有用神蹟或異象，
而是用一種持續存在的不安—
一種對生命意義的追尋。
那感覺很小，卻很真實，
像一顆被悄悄放進心裡的種子。
多年以後回頭看，我才明白，
那其實是呼召的起點。
前往台灣讀醫學，
成了我生命中第一次真正的「離家」。
那並不是一個多麼屬靈的決定，
在當時，它看起來更像是年輕人該做的選擇—
去看看世界，去學一門專業。
但在那段跨文化的生活中，
我慢慢學會用另一種語言思考、
在不同的醫療體系中理解疾病與身體，
也在一個又一個被痛苦壓倒的病人面前，
學習如何專注、如何承擔。
直到很久以後，我才意識到，
上帝正透過這一切，教我什麼是「離家」—
不是單純的移動，
而是離開熟悉、慣性與安全感，
去學習看見一個更大的家。
我逐漸明白，
「家」不是一個地址，
而是上帝帶我去的地方；
「使命」也不是個人的野心，
而是祂放在我心裡、
讓我無法視而不見的負擔。
那一天，在機場外的風中，
我並沒有想清楚未來會發生什麼事。
只是很清楚地知道—
這條路，不是我自己想出來的，
而是我正在回應一個呼召。
信仰札記
• 上帝常常用「離開」來開始一段新的旅程。
• 呼召不是一次性的，而是一連串「願意踏出一步」的累積。
• 離家不是失去，而是被帶往上帝更大的家中。
神學反思
「呼召」在聖經中從來不是浪漫的，
它常是未知、不確定、甚至可能伴隨危險。
亞伯拉罕的故事提醒我：
信心不是看到結果才走，而是走了才看見結果。
宣教者自語
當我走進機艙、坐下、繫上安全帶時，我忽然意識到：
我生命的方向已經改變。
那不是因為我夠勇敢，而是因為上帝已經預備了這旅程，
我只是說了：「我願意。」
Chapter 1
Leaving Home to Find a Bigger One
“So Abram went, as Jehovah had spoken unto him; and
Lot went with him: and Abram was seventy and five
years old when he departed out of Haran.”
— Genesis 12:4
I first truly became aware of what it meant to leave home at the
moment the wind met my face outside Taoyuan International Airport.
It was not a dramatic sensation, nor an emotional high but a calm and
unmistakable certainty: I knew that I was not merely leaving a city,
but being led toward something larger.
What I was leaving behind was Hong Kong—a place where I
was born and raised, and a place so deeply familiar that life required
almost no conscious thought. Yet at the same time, I realized that
what I was stepping away from was not only a geographical home,
but also a rhythm of life and a structure of values that had long been
internalized.
Hong Kong is a city that pushes people relentlessly forward—so
fast that there is hardly time to stop and ask, who am I? Academic
advancement, tutoring, efficiency and competition form a track that
feels unquestionable. Most people do not deliberately choose this
way of living; they are carried along by the system without ever
quite noticing. In that environment, I also tried to adapt and keep
pace, until one day a question surfaced—one that could no longer be
ignored: Is this all there is to life?
At the time, I did not know that this was neither rebellion nor
confusion, but God gently knocking at the door of my heart. He did
not come with thunder, nor with miracles or visions but through a
persistent unease—a quiet search for meaning. The feeling was small,
yet undeniably real, like a seed quietly placed within the heart. Only
years later, looking back, did I understand that this was the beginning
of a calling.
Going to Taiwan for medical school became the first true
experience of leaving home in my life. It was not a particularly
spiritual decision at the time; it seemed more like the sort of choice
young people make—to see the world, to learn a profession.
Yet within that cross-cultural life, I gradually learned to think in
another language, to understand illness and the human body within a
different medical system, and to develop focus and responsibility as I
stood before patient after patient overwhelmed by suffering.
Only much later did I realize that God was using all of this to
teach me what leaving home truly meant—not simply moving from
one place to another, but leaving behind familiarity, habit and a sense
of security in order to begin seeing a larger home.
I came to understand that home is not an address but the place to
which God leads me; and that mission is not personal ambition but a
burden He places within the heart—one that cannot be ignored.
That day, standing in the wind outside the airport, I did not yet
understand what the future would hold. I only knew this with clarity:
this path was not one I had devised for myself, but one I was stepping
onto in response to a calling.
Faith Notes
• God often begins transformation by asking us to leave what is
familiar.
• Calling grows step by step through repeated willingness.
• Home is wherever God leads us to love and serve.
Theological Reflection
Abraham’s journey teaches us that faith precedes clarity. We do
not walk because we understand; we come to understand because we
walk.
A Missionary’s Soliloguy
Looking out the airplane window that night, I whispered a simple
prayer: “Lord, take me where You want me to go. I will follow.”
被帶離家，是為了更大的家
「亞伯蘭就照著耶和華的吩咐去了。」—創世記12：4
第一次真正意識到「離家」這件事，
是在桃園機場外，風迎面吹來的那一刻。
那不是一種戲劇性的感受，也不是情緒的高峰，
而是一種清楚卻安靜的確信—
我知道，我並不只是離開一個城市，
而是正在被帶往一個更大的地方。
離開的是香港，
一個我出生、成長、熟悉到幾乎不需要思考的地方。
但我也同時意識到，我正在離開的，
不只是地理上的家，
而是一種早已內化的生活節奏與價值結構。
香港是一座把人推得很快的城市。
快到人幾乎來不及停下來問：「我是誰？」
升學、補習、效率、競爭，
成為理所當然的軌道。
大多數人並不是刻意選擇這樣活，
而是在不知不覺中，被整個系統推著往前。
在那樣的環境裡，我也曾努力適應、努力跟上。
直到某一天，一個問題突然浮現，
而且怎麼也無法忽視：
「難道人生，就只是這樣嗎？」
那時候我並不知道，
這並不是叛逆，也不是迷惘，
而是上帝正在輕輕敲門。
祂沒有用轟然巨響，
也沒有用神蹟或異象，
而是用一種持續存在的不安—
一種對生命意義的追尋。
那感覺很小，卻很真實，
像一顆被悄悄放進心裡的種子。
多年以後回頭看，我才明白，
那其實是呼召的起點。
前往台灣讀醫學，
成了我生命中第一次真正的「離家」。
那並不是一個多麼屬靈的決定，
在當時，它看起來更像是年輕人該做的選擇—
去看看世界，去學一門專業。
但在那段跨文化的生活中，
我慢慢學會用另一種語言思考、
在不同的醫療體系中理解疾病與身體，
也在一個又一個被痛苦壓倒的病人面前，
學習如何專注、如何承擔。
直到很久以後，我才意識到，
上帝正透過這一切，教我什麼是「離家」—
不是單純的移動，
而是離開熟悉、慣性與安全感，
去學習看見一個更大的家。
我逐漸明白，
「家」不是一個地址，
而是上帝帶我去的地方；
「使命」也不是個人的野心，
而是祂放在我心裡、
讓我無法視而不見的負擔。
那一天，在機場外的風中，
我並沒有想清楚未來會發生什麼事。
只是很清楚地知道—
這條路，不是我自己想出來的，
而是我正在回應一個呼召。
信仰札記
• 上帝常常用「離開」來開始一段新的旅程。
• 呼召不是一次性的，而是一連串「願意踏出一步」的累積。
• 離家不是失去，而是被帶往上帝更大的家中。
神學反思
「呼召」在聖經中從來不是浪漫的，
它常是未知、不確定、甚至可能伴隨危險。
亞伯拉罕的故事提醒我：
信心不是看到結果才走，而是走了才看見結果。
宣教者自語
當我走進機艙、坐下、繫上安全帶時，我忽然意識到：
我生命的方向已經改變。
那不是因為我夠勇敢，而是因為上帝已經預備了這旅程，
我只是說了：「我願意。」
Chapter 1
Leaving Home to Find a Bigger One
“So Abram went, as Jehovah had spoken unto him; and
Lot went with him: and Abram was seventy and five
years old when he departed out of Haran.”
— Genesis 12:4
I first truly became aware of what it meant to leave home at the
moment the wind met my face outside Taoyuan International Airport.
It was not a dramatic sensation, nor an emotional high but a calm and
unmistakable certainty: I knew that I was not merely leaving a city,
but being led toward something larger.
What I was leaving behind was Hong Kong—a place where I
was born and raised, and a place so deeply familiar that life required
almost no conscious thought. Yet at the same time, I realized that
what I was stepping away from was not only a geographical home,
but also a rhythm of life and a structure of values that had long been
internalized.
Hong Kong is a city that pushes people relentlessly forward—so
fast that there is hardly time to stop and ask, who am I? Academic
advancement, tutoring, efficiency and competition form a track that
feels unquestionable. Most people do not deliberately choose this
way of living; they are carried along by the system without ever
quite noticing. In that environment, I also tried to adapt and keep
pace, until one day a question surfaced—one that could no longer be
ignored: Is this all there is to life?
At the time, I did not know that this was neither rebellion nor
confusion, but God gently knocking at the door of my heart. He did
not come with thunder, nor with miracles or visions but through a
persistent unease—a quiet search for meaning. The feeling was small,
yet undeniably real, like a seed quietly placed within the heart. Only
years later, looking back, did I understand that this was the beginning
of a calling.
Going to Taiwan for medical school became the first true
experience of leaving home in my life. It was not a particularly
spiritual decision at the time; it seemed more like the sort of choice
young people make—to see the world, to learn a profession.
Yet within that cross-cultural life, I gradually learned to think in
another language, to understand illness and the human body within a
different medical system, and to develop focus and responsibility as I
stood before patient after patient overwhelmed by suffering.
Only much later did I realize that God was using all of this to
teach me what leaving home truly meant—not simply moving from
one place to another, but leaving behind familiarity, habit and a sense
of security in order to begin seeing a larger home.
I came to understand that home is not an address but the place to
which God leads me; and that mission is not personal ambition but a
burden He places within the heart—one that cannot be ignored.
That day, standing in the wind outside the airport, I did not yet
understand what the future would hold. I only knew this with clarity:
this path was not one I had devised for myself, but one I was stepping
onto in response to a calling.
Faith Notes
• God often begins transformation by asking us to leave what is
familiar.
• Calling grows step by step through repeated willingness.
• Home is wherever God leads us to love and serve.
Theological Reflection
Abraham’s journey teaches us that faith precedes clarity. We do
not walk because we understand; we come to understand because we
walk.
A Missionary’s Soliloguy
Looking out the airplane window that night, I whispered a simple
prayer: “Lord, take me where You want me to go. I will follow.”
