But when it had been determined that we should sail to Italy, they delivered up Paul and certain other prisoners to a centurion, by name Julius, of Augustus' company.
The last stretch of Acts begins here. One short decision puts Paul on a ship for Italy, in the charge of a centurion, along with other prisoners. The narrator slips back into "we," and the man who had long wanted to see Rome now goes there in chains. So whose plan is this voyage?
The verse reads like an official note. Writers trace the decision back to a purpose the Lord had already spoken.
While at Ephesus Paul had "resolved in the Spirit" and said, "I must also see Rome" (Acts 19:21). More important still, it was the Lord's purpose for him: "so you must testify also in Rome" (Acts 23:11). We have just been tracing God's ways behind the scenes, bringing about the decision that we should sail for Italy.
Roman legal process, God's purpose, and Paul's own longing all point to the same destination at once.
The governor sent Paul to Rome for a hearing before the Emperor Nero. At Rome the Lord had already determined that he should bear witness to his Saviour. He had long wished to see the Christians there. If he were allowed, he would share some spiritual gift with them when he came, so that they might be strengthened (Rom. 1:11). Roman law required his transfer to the capital. His presence there would carry God's purposes forward. It would also fulfil desires he had long held. So Paul was not going against his will, though the circumstances were not what he had first expected.
The answer to his prayers for that visit came in a form he never pictured.
When he prayed that he might reach the Christians at Rome and share some spiritual gift with them, he probably had no idea that he would go there bound in chains. But that is how it happened. And at the same time his prayers were answered, and more than answered.
The word "we" is the only sign that the writer is on board. One commentator notes how he keeps himself out of view.
His name is never once mentioned. Only the change from "they" to "we" lets us trace him... On the apostle's voyage to Italy he is with Paul the whole way to Rome (Acts 27:1 – 28:16). Through it all he certainly filled an important place... yet he keeps this silence about himself all along the way.
Luke and Aristarchus travel with a man in custody, and neither of them had to.
We see at once that Luke is with the apostle on his voyage, and Aristarchus also... Neither appears to have been at this time a prisoner. Both chose to share the treatment given to the prisoner. Love led them to join him in the face of shame and danger. So they did not throw away their boldness, which has great reward.
Julius guards Paul the whole way. How he treats his prisoner shapes the voyage.
He treated Paul with great kindness, letting him visit his friends at Sidon and rest. Paul advised him about where they should spend the winter. But Julius, as you would expect, was swayed by the master of the ship. It proved afterwards that it would have been wiser to listen to the man of God... When the shipwreck came, Julius would not let the prisoners be killed, because he wanted to save Paul. God was watching over His servant, and turned the heart of Julius towards him.
Paul had appealed to Caesar, and that appeal is why he sailed.
Looking at human causes, Paul might have bitterly regretted his appeal to Caesar, since Agrippa said that without it he might have been set free. Looking to God, all was clear. Yet though God had ordered the journey, it did not follow that everything moved with ease and smoothness. The very opposite. From the beginning the record says that "the winds were against us" (v. 4). Circumstances against us are no proof that we are out of the way of God's will. Nor do favourable circumstances have to mean that we are in the way of His will. We cannot safely judge from circumstances what may or may not be His will for us.
Rome already had believers before Paul ever reached it.
It is not that God had not work there already done. Many souls were there before this, calling on the name of the Lord, both Jews and Gentiles, as the letter to the Romans lets us see. But the great witness of the gospel was to enter Rome as a prisoner.
- Purpose — the sailing order was paperwork. The decision behind it was God's: Paul must testify in Rome.
- Prayer — Paul had asked to reach Rome. God answered him, and more than answered, but in chains.
- Partners — Luke rejoins the record with "we," and Aristarchus sails too. Neither was a prisoner. Love put them on that ship.
- Providence — Julius showed Paul kindness, and later refused to let the prisoners be killed. God had turned the heart of the officer who held His servant.
- Practice — the winds were against them from the start. Hard circumstances are no proof that you are outside God's will.
And going on board a ship of Adramyttium about to navigate by the places along Asia, we set sail, Aristarchus, a Macedonian of Thessalonica, being with us.
Paul leaves Caesarea in chains, on a small coasting ship that was never headed for Rome. Those plain travel details raise large questions about God's purpose, about friendship, and about what hard circumstances prove.
The vessel is identified by its home port, a town far from Italy.
The place to which the ship belonged in which Paul sailed as a prisoner. Acts 27:2. It lies in Mysia, Asia Minor.
So the first leg was a matter of taking whatever was available and hoping to transfer later.
They found a ship of Adramyttium, a coasting vessel clearly heading back to its home waters. Adramyttium was a seaport of Mysia, north of the province of Asia, about 800 miles from Caesarea. They went as far as Myra in this ship, about 500 miles, keeping as close to the shore as they could.
The word "Asia" in this verse is narrower than it sounds today:
It seems amazing that there should be the least doubt about "Asia" in verse 2. It does not mean the continent, or even the whole of Asia Minor. It means the Roman province, which in this book is only the western coastal strip of Asia Minor.
The small word "we" tells us that Luke, who wrote Acts, was on board.
In verse 1 the word "we" is of precious interest. Luke has identified himself with Paul the prisoner, and we see he did so again later, when Paul was about to be poured out as an offering (2 Tim. 4:6, 11)... Aristarchus of Thessalonica is named as being with them, no doubt a believer too, who chose to identify himself with Paul.
Of the whole group who once travelled with Paul, we can follow only these two all the way to Italy:
This shows that of all who sailed with Paul, the only ones we can be sure reached Rome with him are Luke and Aristarchus... I say Luke, because in Acts the words "we" and "us" always include Luke the writer. The others may have been left behind at the various places where they stopped.
Neither Luke nor Aristarchus was under arrest. They chose to sail with a prisoner.
Neither of them appears to have been a prisoner at this time. Both chose to share the treatment given to the man who was a prisoner. Love led them to join him in the face of shame and danger. So they did not throw away their confidence, which has a great reward.
This voyage was one stage in a long friendship that kept deepening:
When Paul wrote, Aristarchus was in prison with him. He had been a companion in Paul's travels (Acts 19:29); a fellow-sufferer in the shipwreck (Acts 27:2); a fellow-worker in service (Philemon 24); and at last he is a fellow-prisoner in the Apostle's chains.
A Roman court ordered this voyage. It also carried out something the Lord had already said to Paul.
While at Ephesus Paul had "resolved in the Spirit," saying, "I must also see Rome" (Acts 19:21). More important still, this was the Lord's purpose for him: "so you must testify also in Rome" (Acts 23:11). We have just been tracing God's ways behind the scenes, which brought about the decision "that we should sail for Italy."
Being in God's will did not make the trip easy:
If circumstances are against us, that is no proof we are outside God's will. If circumstances favour us, that does not prove we are inside it. We cannot read His will for us off our circumstances.
Some commentators also read this voyage as a picture of the church's later history. One of them starts from the meaning of the name Aristarchus.
His name means "the best ruler," but we hear no more of him for the rest of the journey. The best ruler for the Church is the Holy Spirit, yet the professing Church soon set aside His rule and guidance.
This is a symbolic reading, not the plain sense of the verse, and commentators differ on it.
- Purpose — A Roman court gave the sailing order. It carried out what the Lord had already told Paul: he must testify in Rome.
- Ship — The vessel belonged to Adramyttium in Mysia. It was heading for the ports of the Roman province of Asia, not to Italy.
- Circumstances — Hard circumstances prove nothing about whether you are in God's will. Easy ones prove nothing either.
- Love — Luke and Aristarchus were free men who chose a prisoner's ship. Love made them share his shame and danger.
- Result — Of all Paul's travelling companions, we can trace only these two as far as Rome. Aristarchus goes on from fellow-traveller to fellow-prisoner.
And the next day we arrived at Sidon. And Julius treated Paul kindly and suffered him to go to his friends and refresh himself.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And setting sail thence we sailed under the lee of Cyprus, because the winds were contrary.
Paul is on his way to Rome, and Luke records the voyage with a sailor's eye. One day out from Sidon the wind shut off the open route, so the ship kept to the sheltered side of Cyprus. It is a small sailing detail. Yet it raises a question every believer meets: why does a journey God has promised begin with the wind against it?
The ship was a sailing vessel with no power to push against a head wind. Its natural path lay south of the island. Instead it had to creep along the north coast and use the land as a windbreak.
Their direct course would have been to pass south of Cyprus, and then steer straight for it. But the wind was against them. As a sailing vessel they depended on the wind heavily, and of course they could not sail straight into it. So they had to coast along the northern side of Cyprus, under its lee, to get where they were going. The last time Paul was at sea in these parts, sailing from Patara to Tyre, the wind favoured the direct course. Luke says they left Cyprus on their left hand (21:3). On this voyage the winds were against them. They had to use the island as shelter from the force of the wind, or they would make no progress at all.
Paul sailed with God's own commission. Yet the first thing Luke notes about the wind is that it was against them. One writer draws the practical lesson straight from this verse.
Yet though the journey was ordered by God, it did not follow that everything moved with ease and smoothness. The very opposite; for it is put on record from the beginning that "the winds were against us" (v. 4). The fact that circumstances are against us is no proof that we are out of the way of God's will, nor do favouring circumstances necessarily mean that we are in the way of His will. We cannot safely deduce from circumstances what may or may not be His will for us.
If a head wind is not a rebuke, what is it for? One writer answers by asking what makes a good sailor.
We would like to go always with a full, favourable wind, but this does not make a good sailor. It does tell us of weakness and imperfection, but that is something to learn, and dependence too.
Another writer turns the same principle around. A smooth crossing is no more a foundation for faith than a rough one, though it is still a reason for thanks:
Circumstances never create faith, though God may use unexpected facts to deal with conscience. But it is the same simple faith that can give thanks to God, in rough weather or in smooth.
The detour was not a gap in God's care. It was part of it, alongside the kindness of the officer who had let Paul visit friends the day before.
The Lord's gracious and loving care for His faithful servant shines out in this. How clearly the whole narrative shows that all is in His hands: officers, winds and waves, all circumstances are under His control. So far all seemed to go well; but contrary winds now trouble the voyagers.
The same writer reads the ship itself as a picture.
If we look on the ship as a picture of the professing church, and on the little company led by Paul as the true church, the outcome is not hard to see. Winds that drive people this way and that trouble those who hold the truth and live in fellowship with the Lord, while the professing church is tossed about.
The wind decided the course of the ship. It did not decide the outcome of the journey. The Lord had already settled that with a word spoken to Paul in Jerusalem.
The apostle was travelling towards Rome in keeping with the Lord's words in Acts 23:11: "Take courage, for as you have testified to the facts about me in Jerusalem, so you must testify also in Rome." These words rang in his ears, and Paul moved with confidence.
- Wind: The ship could not sail into the weather. It took the long way round, sheltering behind the north coast of Cyprus.
- Will: A head wind proves nothing against a journey God has ordered. Circumstances, for us or against us, are not a safe guide to His will.
- Weakness: A constant fair wind never made a good sailor. A head wind teaches us dependence.
- Wisdom: Officers, winds and waves were all under His control. The delay was part of His care, not a break in it.
- Word: The wind could not touch the promise that Paul would testify in Rome. That promise, not the weather, shaped his confidence.
And having sailed over the waters of Cilicia and Pamphylia we came to Myra in Lycia
Acts 27:5 is a single line of a ship's log: a stretch of open water crossed, and a port reached. Yet every name in it marks a course the travellers did not choose. At Myra, that course set them beside a ship bound for Italy.
Lycia will be a new name to most readers:
A district in the south-west of Asia Minor. It was once part of Pamphylia, but grew in importance and became a separate district, with Myra as its capital. Acts 27:5.
The water they crossed is easy to place on a map:
The "SEA OF CILICIA AND PAMPHYLIA," Acts 27:5, is the north-east corner of the Mediterranean Sea.
Paul's ship did not take the short way to Myra. One writer explains why, and sets this leg beside an earlier voyage Paul made through the same waters:
Their direct course would have been to pass south of Cyprus and then steer straight for it. But the wind was against them. A sailing ship depended very much on the wind, and of course could not sail straight into it. So they had to coast along the northern side of Cyprus, under its shelter, to get where they were going. The last time Paul was at sea in these parts, he was going from Patara to Tyre. Then the wind favoured the direct course, and they left Cyprus, as Luke states, on their left hand (21:3).
The Cilician coast was not neutral ground for Paul. Tarsus, his birthplace, lay just inland from the water he was now crossing:
We wonder what thoughts would pass through Paul's mind as he sailed by the coast of Cilicia, where his native city was, not far away. What thoughts would run through his mind — his wonderful conversion, and his partnership with Barnabas, who came to Tarsus to secure his help in the work. Then his later labours with Silas and others, the imprisonments, the floggings, the dangers on land and sea, from robbers, in the wilderness, in the cities, the plots to murder him. Now life was largely behind him, and at Rome he was to play the last part of the drama before his exit from life.
Another writer traces the same stretch of coast, and explains why two ships met in one harbour:
Since the winds were against them, the shelter of Cyprus in this case lay to the north of the island. So they coasted along the south of Cilicia and Pamphylia. But it seems the ship had to call at ports (v. 2) that took them north. Myra lay due north of Alexandria, so that the ship from that port met the one from Adramyttium in that harbour. Both ships were on their right course for the winds then blowing. Where the first was bound we are not told. But the centurion makes use of the ship from Alexandria, which had a cargo for Italy, and transferred his whole company accordingly (v. 6).
Nothing in the verse looks arranged. A soldier simply took the transport that was available. Yet the outcome of that decision reached far beyond his knowledge:
Arriving at Myra, the centurion found a ship of Alexandria bound for Italy. This decided him, we may suppose, to risk the long sea route… We cannot now say what settled their route. It may have been nothing more than the seeming chance that a ship was sailing straight for Italy. But God's hand was in it, and we can see it. Paul was to stand out as God's chosen servant before everyone, and Malta was to have blessing through sick people being healed.
The plain detail of the verse has a value far beyond the journey itself:
Every scholar ought to know this, yet what reader of any version, even a believing one, could guess it? Here, told quite simply and in passing, is more real information about an ancient merchant ship than perhaps survives in all the writings of Greek and Roman authors.
- Wind — the weather chose the route, not the travellers. Contrary winds pushed the ship north of Cyprus instead of straight across.
- Water — the sea "along the coast of Cilicia and Pamphylia" is the north-east corner of the Mediterranean. Lycia lies in the south-west of Asia Minor, and Myra was its capital.
- Harbour — Myra lay due north of Alexandria. A ship from there, on its right course, was waiting where Paul's party arrived.
- Hand — the centurion's choice of that ship looks like accident. Writers here see God's hand in it, reaching on to Paul's witness and to the healing of sick people on Malta.
- Record — the detail is not filler. This passing account preserves more about ancient merchant ships than all the surviving writings of Greece and Rome.
and there the centurion having found a ship of Alexandria sailing to Italy, he made us go on board her.
At Myra the centurion swaps ships, trading a small coasting vessel for a large grain carrier bound straight for Italy. It looks like routine travel business, yet the storm, the shipwreck and the winter on Malta all hang on this one choice — so who really chose the ship?
Two ships from different ports lay in the same harbour that day. One writer explains how the winds brought them there:
Myra lay due north of Alexandria, so the ship from that port met the one from Adramyttium in that harbour. Both ships were on their right course for the winds then blowing. Where the first was bound we are not told. But the centurion takes advantage of the one from Alexandria, which had a cargo for Italy, and transferred all his company accordingly.
This was a busy route, and a dangerous one:
This ship of Adramyttium had served its purpose, and carried our travellers well on their way. At Myra the centurion found a ship of Alexandria sailing for Italy, and arranged to finish the voyage in her. Ships with grain travelled constantly between Alexandria and Italy. The historian Josephus, at a later date, took a similar journey, and was shipwrecked very much as Paul was.
Luke gives no reason for the centurion's choice, and this writer admits he cannot supply one. What he does see is God's hand behind it, and two results that followed:
What decided their route, other than the apparently accidental circumstance of a vessel sailing straight for Italy, we cannot now settle. But God's hand was in it, and we can see it. Paul was to stand out as God's chosen servant before everyone, and Malta was to receive blessing through sick people being healed.
Another writer sees the same control over the whole scene, over the people in charge as much as the weather:
How clearly the whole account shows that everything is in His hands: officers, winds and waves, all circumstances, are under His control.
Paul was a prisoner with no say in the route. Yet three things pointed the same way, as this writer sets out:
At Rome the Lord had already determined that he should bear witness to his Saviour. He had long wished to see the Roman believers. If allowed, he would give them some spiritual gift while there, so that they might be established. Roman law made his transfer to the capital necessary. God's purposes would be furthered by his presence there. The desires of his own heart would also be fulfilled. Paul, then, was not going against his will, though in circumstances he had not originally foreseen.
A ship was waiting, bound for the right port. Then the winds turned against them. One writer warns against reading either as a signal:
Though the journey was ordered by God in this way, it did not follow that everything moved easily and smoothly. The very opposite; for it is recorded from the start that "the winds were against us." Circumstances against us are no proof that we are out of God's will. Favourable circumstances are no proof that we are in it. We cannot safely work out from circumstances what may or may not be His will for us.
One writer goes beyond the history and reads the new ship as a picture of the church's later course. This is an illustration, not the plain sense of the verse:
The second ship of Alexandria, in which the journey is resumed, is from Egypt and speaks of this world in its independence of God. We know that the Church soon joined hands with the world and adopted its principles instead of walking in separation from it. This ship is the one that is completely broken to pieces later on.
- Found — the centurion found a grain ship at Myra because Alexandrian ships ran constantly to Italy. Both vessels were on their right course for the winds.
- Fluke — no writer can explain the choice of route. They say God's hand was in what looked like chance.
- Fixed — the Lord had already decided that Paul would bear witness at Rome. He travelled in circumstances he had not foreseen, but not against his will.
- Fickle — a waiting ship and contrary winds prove nothing either way. Circumstances are not a safe guide to God's will.
- Figure — one writer reads the move to the Egyptian ship as a picture of the church joining hands with the world. That is an illustration, not the plain sense.
And sailing slowly for many days, and having with difficulty got abreast of Cnidus, the wind not suffering us, we sailed under the lee of Crete abreast of Salmone;
Paul is being taken to Rome as a prisoner, and his ship out of Myra is fighting the wind mile by mile. The verse is pure sailing detail — so what was happening on the water, and why does Scripture keep the record?
The verse records hard work, not just delay. One writer traces the ship's course and corrects an older English rendering:
"Scarce" in the Authorized Version (v. 7) does not give the thought intended; it means "with difficulty." The wind was about north-west, as Mr. Smith shows in his interesting Voyage and Shipwreck of St. Paul. That made it slow and hard work to bring the ship up from Myra and Cnidus, even with the advantage of a sheltering shore and a westerly current. The wind did not allow them to go on (not, to put in). So their course lay under the lee of Crete, this time its south side, after sailing abreast of its eastern point, Salmone.
The Greek behind "the wind did not allow us" is worth a look. One writer explains what it does and does not say:
Acts 27:7, 15 — it was the state of things: "the wind not allowing us." The point is not that the wind then and there did not let the ship make her way easily. It is that the wind was such that it could not, and (v. 15) the ship was caught, and unable.
The turn south was forced by the shape of the coast. One writer explains what the crew faced at Cnidus:
With difficulty, and after many days, they arrived opposite Cnidus, a city of Caria about a hundred and thirty geographical miles from Myra. There it became clear that a straight course was out of the question. The coast here bends towards the north, so the wind would now meet them head on, with no shelter from the land on their right, as they had before. So they decided on a complete change of direction. They steered south, until, passing Cape Salmone, the eastern point of Crete, they could coast along the south side of that island.
Paul was travelling under God's direction, yet the wind fought him from the start. One writer draws out the lesson:
Though God ordered the journey, it did not follow that everything moved with ease and smoothness. The very opposite; for it is put on record from the beginning that "the winds were against us" (v. 4). If circumstances are against us, that is no proof that we are out of the way of God's will. Nor do favourable circumstances necessarily mean that we are in the way of His will. We cannot safely judge from circumstances what may or may not be His will for us.
Commentators differ over how far to read the voyage as a picture of something larger. Some see the church's story in it:
In all of this we are surely taught that much of the church's history has been influenced by the winds of circumstance. How often we too have found contrary winds that cause us to take a course much longer than we desire.
Others warn that such readings can be pushed past what the text will carry:
However, such an application needs caution. It is easy to make fanciful and far-fetched allegorical applications... We shall not try to find an outline of church history in the events of this chapter. The central figure, the prisoner of the Lord, must occupy us more than anything else.
Pages of sailing detail may look out of place in a book about the spread of the gospel. Yet one writer points out what this record preserves:
What reader of any version, even a believer, could guess what every scholar ought to know? Here is more real information about an ancient merchant ship, told quite simply and in passing, than we have perhaps in all the surviving remains of Greek and Roman authors.
And the ordinary setting is part of the point. As one writer puts it, the chapter gives
a strong view and impression of Christianity being found in all the ordinary circumstances and accidents of life; that the solid, tangible world, in which we find our present life and exercise, is the very scene in which the Spirit had His witnesses.
- Wind. The wind from the north-west was not a passing gust. The wording describes a wind of such a kind that the ship could not make headway.
- Difficulty. "Scarce" in older English is better read as "with difficulty" — slow, hard work to bring the ship up from Myra to Cnidus.
- Diversion. The coast turned north, so a straight course was impossible. They steered south past Salmone and sheltered along the south side of Crete.
- Discernment. Headwinds are no proof that you are out of God's will. Fair winds are no proof that you are in it. Circumstances are not a safe guide.
- Design. The detail is not filler. It preserves more about ancient ships than the Greek and Roman writers do, and shows the Spirit's witnesses at work in ordinary life.
and coasting it with difficulty we came to a certain place called Fair Havens, near to which was [the] city of Lasaea.
After weeks of fighting headwinds, Paul's ship finds shelter at last: a small bay on the south coast of Crete with an inviting name. What follows in the chapter turns on one choice — stay in this modest harbour, or push on for a better one.
One commentator explains the wording, and traces the route the wind forced on them:
Great difficulties follow quickly; but disciples need not be troubled if the Lord seems not to notice. "Scarce," as older versions put it in verse 7, does not give the thought intended; it means "with difficulty." The wind was about north-west, and that made it slow, hard work to bring the ship up from Myra and Cnidus, even with the help of a sheltering shore and a westerly current. The wind did not allow them to go on, so their course lay under the shelter of Crete — this time its south side, after they sailed past its eastern point, Salmone. Fair Havens still bears the same name today in an altered form, Kalolimounias, and near it, inland, lie the ruins of Lasaea.
Luke names the nearby town as well as the port. One reference work fixes where both lay:
Harbour on the south of the island of Crete, near the city of Lasea, about five miles to the east of Cape Matala.
One commentator adds the time of year and the state of the harbour:
They continue their voyage, though slowly, because the wind was against them, until they reach a place called "the fair havens," on the island of Crete, near the city of Lasea. It was already the month of November, and sailing was dangerous. The port did not live up to its name: it was much exposed to the wind.
The shape of the bay explains why. Another commentator gives the crew's verdict:
Whatever its name promised, Fair Havens was clearly a poor place to spend the winter, since the bay is open to almost half the compass. Everyone could see this, so most of them advised putting out to sea. They did not mean to continue to Italy in such weather and at such a time, but hoped to reach the far better port of Phoenix, now identified as Lutro, though they well knew the risk of trying.
Commentators differ on whether the bay was as poor as it looked. One reports a close survey made on the spot:
It may interest some to know that competent men declare Fair Havens to be a better harbour than its exposed look suggests at first sight. Mr. Smith studied the whole question on the spot with great care and professional skill. He judged it "so well protected by islands and reefs that, though not equal to Lutro, it must be a very fair winter harbour." Gales of northerly wind spring up suddenly, often, and with great violence. If such a gale sprang up on the passage from Fair Havens to Lutro, the ship was certain to be driven off to sea. So, he held, "the prudence of the advice given by the master and owner was extremely questionable." From this we may learn that there is such a thing as divine guidance in the ordinary things of life — short of inspiration, no doubt, but better than man's experience and wisdom. Are we so unbelieving as to deny it is real except in an apostle? If we do, we must be blind to the facts of everyday life among God's children.
One writer turns the decision taken here into a warning for believers:
Both the captain and the owner were anxious to go on, and the centurion accepted their judgment. Fair Havens was a small port, and Phenice, about forty miles further up the coast, would suit them much better. The history of the church has repeated this attitude far too often. Paul's ministry has warned us of the dangers in the path. Yet instead of being content to wait on God in confined circumstances, we act in the hope of finding better circumstances, and run headlong into trouble.
Luke's record carries a value scholars have noticed:
What reader of any version, even a believing one, could guess what every scholar ought to know? Here is more real information about an ancient merchant ship, given simply and in passing, than is found in perhaps all the surviving works of Greek and Roman authors.
- Difficulty. A north-west wind beat the ship west along the coast of Crete. They reached this bay only "with difficulty."
- Shelter. What they gained was real shelter, near the city of Lasea. The bay still carries its old name today.
- Appearance. The harbour looked open and unsafe, and the crew judged that its name flattered it. One careful survey called it a fair winter harbour after all.
- Guidance. God guides in ordinary decisions too. That guidance is wiser than professional experience.
- Contentment. The ship's great mistake was refusing to wait in a small, confined place while hoping for a better one. Believers repeat it.
And much time having now been spent, and navigation being already dangerous, because the fast also was already past, Paul counselled them,
Paul's ship to Rome has been beaten back by contrary winds. It now sits at Fair Havens on Crete, and the safe sailing season is closing. Luke dates the moment by Israel's calendar, and a prisoner speaks up against the professionals. Whose judgment should a voyage rest on?
Luke does not give a month or a day. He gives a date any Jewish reader would know at once. One writer explains which fast it was, and why it mattered at sea:
The only fast required by the law was the one connected with the Day of Atonement. The word "fasting" does not occur there, but many take it to be included in the command "afflict your souls." The fast mentioned in Acts 27:9 seems to confirm this. The tenth of Tisri fell at the season of the autumn gales, when sailing in the Mediterranean was dangerous.
The delay was not carelessness. Seasonal winds had run longer than usual. The weather that slowed the ship had now closed the season.
These winds blew from the north-west. They usually began in July and stopped at the close of August. But this year they lasted far longer than usual. The trouble the sailors met between Myra and Cnidus stayed with them as they tried to work their way along the south of Crete. With difficulty they reached Fair Havens, near the city of Lasæa. Here they could go no further for now, since the north-west wind made it impossible to go on. The season was advancing. The fast of the Day of Atonement, on the tenth day of the seventh month, was past. They had to expect autumn storms, if not winter weather. Reaching Italy that season was hopeless.
Older English versions handled this chapter's sea terms loosely. One commentator corrects the key word in this verse:
Acts 27 stands out in the ordinary Authorised Version. Verse 9 is "the voyage," not sailing or navigation.
Paul warns them, and later events prove him right. Yet his words here are not framed as a message from God, unlike his announcement later in the chapter.
Contrary winds and other circumstances forced a delay they could not avoid. It brought them into a season of no small danger in that sea (v. 9). The apostle gave counsel, and events soon after — too late — proved its value beyond question. Still, he does not seem to claim God-given foresight for his warning. The words used in verse 10 are simply his own judgment, in apparent contrast to the prophetic announcement in verses 21-26. "I perceive" introduces a general warning of danger. That is very different from "I believe God," with a precise assurance that the ship would be lost but no life among the passengers and crew.
The ship's company had to choose between expert opinion and Paul's counsel. The decision fell to the officer guarding the prisoners.
They reached the place called Fair Havens. Despite its name, it was not a suitable spot, and here a conflict of opinion developed. The skipper wanted to reach Phenice. Paul warned that they were about to run into disaster and loss, not only for ship and cargo but also for their lives. The Roman centurion, in charge of the party of prisoners, held the deciding vote. He listened to worldly wisdom and seamanship on one side, and spiritual understanding on the other, and he decided in favour of the skipper's advice.
Paul had no standing to speak at all. Everything visible argued against him.
He advises, directs, and acts as if he were the master of the ship, not a prisoner guarded by soldiers... But the ship's master and owner, who had the most at stake, let circumstances guide them instead of faith. All were against the judgment of the man of faith — the man of God. Even the circumstances around them seemed to favour the sailors rather than the apostle. But nothing can prove the judgment of faith wrong. It must be true despite every circumstance.
Confined circumstances, not the storm, moved them. One writer brings the point across to us.
This has been an attitude repeated far too often in the history of the church. Paul's ministry has warned us of the dangers in the path. Yet instead of being content to wait on God in confined circumstances, we go looking for better circumstances and run headlong into trouble.
- The clock. "The Fast" is the Day of Atonement, in the seventh month of the Jewish year — Luke's way of saying the safe sailing season had closed.
- The delay. North-west winds had run far past their season. Reaching Italy that year was already hopeless before anyone spoke.
- The warning. Paul's "I perceive" is his own sober judgment, not a revelation. The direct word from God comes later, in verses 21-26.
- The vote. Seamanship and money outweighed a prisoner's counsel. But circumstances never overturn the judgment of faith.
- The lesson. A cramped harbour tempts us to move. Refusing to wait on God in tight places is how people sail into the storm.
saying, Men, I perceive that the navigation will be with disaster and much loss, not only of the cargo and the ship, but also of our lives.
Paul's ship to Rome has crawled along the coast of Crete and anchored at Fair Havens, and the sailing season is almost over. At the council over where to winter, a prisoner speaks against the men who own and steer the ship — so where did his warning come from, and why did nobody listen?
The delay had pushed the voyage into the risky part of the year. The calendar itself framed the question:
The season was advancing. The fast of the day of atonement, on the tenth day of the seventh month, was past. Autumn storms, if not winter weather, had to be expected. Reaching Italy that season was hopeless. So the pressing question arose: where should they winter?
What makes the moment striking is who spoke, and against whom:
Who was he to give such a firm opinion? He was opposing the master, who ought to know, and the owner, who must have had a large financial interest in keeping his vessel safe. A prisoner on his way to the Emperor's judgment seat ventured his opinion against all the rest!
Paul warned that lives would be lost, yet in the end everyone survived. Commentators differ on where his warning came from. Some weigh his exact words and conclude he was giving his own judgment, not a message from God:
He does not seem to claim that God gave him foresight for this warning. The words he uses in verse 10 are simply his own judgment. They seem to stand in contrast to the prophetic word announced in verses 21–26. "I perceive" opens a general warning of danger. That is very different from "I believe God," with its precise assurance that the ship would be lost, but no life among passengers or crew.
Others take the opposite view. What else could make a passenger with no sea experience contradict the ship's master?
This he had, I judge, by the Spirit. He does not gather it from the winds and waves. Only the authority of the Holy Spirit could have given him the right to speak. He was a stranger, no sailor, and a prisoner too, yet he spoke on such a subject with authority, against the judgment of "the owner," "the master," and "the majority."
One man on board had the power to settle the argument:
The Roman centurion was in charge of the party of prisoners, so he held the deciding vote. He listened to the voice of worldly wisdom and skill at sea on one side, and to spiritual understanding on the other. He decided in favour of the skipper's advice.
Then the weather itself seemed to take the sailors' side:
No doubt any ordinary person would have decided as the centurion did. Then the wind veered and blew gently from the south, and it looked as though God was favouring the centurion's decision. But again we see that circumstances give no true guidance. They set sail only to be caught in the dreaded storm wind called Euroclydon, which upset all their plans.
The men who overruled Paul were reading the situation by a different measure:
The master and the owner of the ship had the greatest interest in her, and circumstances guided them, not faith… All were against the judgment of the man of faith. But nothing can falsify the judgment of faith. It must be true despite every circumstance.
Refusing to sit still in a cramped place is not only a sailor's mistake:
This attitude has been repeated far too often in the history of the church. Paul's ministry has warned us of the dangers in the path. Yet instead of being content to wait on God while our circumstances are cramped, we act to find better circumstances, and run headlong into trouble.
They rejected the warning, but that did not defeat God's purpose:
God was not willing for human means to save the many souls in that ship. He willed that Paul's word should come true, and that Paul himself should be the means of safety for all.
- Warned. The fast day was past and storms were due. The only question left was where to winter — and a prisoner spoke against the master, the owner and the majority.
- Sourced. Commentators differ on whether "I perceive" was Paul's own judgment or a word from the Spirit. His later assurance in verses 21–26 is the word that carries a definite promise.
- Outvoted. The centurion weighed skill at sea against spiritual understanding and chose the skill. Any ordinary person would have done the same.
- Misled. A soft south wind then seemed to confirm the choice. But good weather is no guidance, and the judgment of faith stands whatever the sky says.
- Overruled. The refusal cost the cargo and the ship, but not the lives. God let human means fail so that Paul's word would stand, and Paul himself would keep everyone safe.
But the centurion believed rather the helmsman and the shipowner than what was said by Paul.
At Fair Havens the voyage stalled. The men had to choose: winter where they were, or risk a short run to a better harbour. Paul had just warned them of danger ahead. But the deciding voice belonged to a Roman officer, and two professional seamen stood against Paul.
The pilot steered the ship. The owner had money in the voyage. The centurion held the prisoners and the authority. One writer, calling the pilot the master, shows how unequal the contest looked:
Who was he to give such a firm opinion against the master, who ought to know? And against the owner, who must have had a great financial interest in keeping his ship safe? A prisoner on his way to the Emperor's judgment seat offered his opinion against all the rest!
Paul had no experience at sea, and the men against him did:
The crew and the shipowner opposed the apostle's warning words. We can easily understand why the centurion paid more attention to the opinion of men used to the sea. No doubt they thought little of whatever a landsman might think or say.
The choice fell to a soldier, not a sailor:
The Roman centurion was in charge of the prisoners, and he held the casting vote. He listened to the voice of worldly wisdom and sailing skill on one side, and to the voice of spiritual understanding on the other. He decided in favour of the skipper's advice. Any ordinary person would certainly have decided as the centurion did. When the wind suddenly changed and blew gently from the south, it looked as though God was favouring the centurion's decision. But again we see that circumstances give no true guidance.
Commentators differ on the basis of Paul's warning. Kelly reads "I perceive" as Paul's own judgment, not a message from God:
He seems not to claim God-given foresight for his warning. The words used in verse 10 are simply his own judgment, in apparent contrast to the prophetic announcement in verses 21-26. "I perceive" introduces a general warning of danger. That is very different from "I believe God," with its precise assurance that the ship would be lost, but no life among the passengers and crew.
Darby sees the prisoner already speaking for God on that deck:
Here again we see the apostle's nearness to God, his intimacy with Him, and the Lord's abundant grace toward His servant. Through this fellowship, Paul becomes master of the situation. On the authority of God, he is able to warn the sailors and captain of the ship what is going to happen. But he gave this revelation in general terms, and the centurion placed more confidence in the owner and pilot than in what Paul said. To him, this was a mere human prediction.
The seamen judged by what they could see:
But the master and the owner of the ship had the greatest interest in her, and circumstances guided them, not faith... All were against the judgment of the man of faith — the man of God — the man who was speaking and acting for God. Even the circumstances around them seemed to favour the sailors' opinion rather than the apostle's. But nothing can prove the judgment of faith wrong. It must be true despite every circumstance.
One writer names what the choice really rested on:
Depending on present appearances is not depending on the Lord: in fact He had already spoken through Paul. When God has given His word, all reasoning around it is disobedience to Him.
This verse is not the end of the story. It is the start of a reversal:
Soon, however, all would have to admit the wisdom of Paul's advice. The owner would live to regret that they had followed his own views. He and all the rest, the master included, would come to put complete confidence in whatever the prisoner might say.
One writer applies it beyond that ship:
This has been an attitude repeated far too often in the history of the church. Paul's ministry has warned us of the dangers in the path. Yet instead of being content to wait on God in cramped circumstances, we act to find better circumstances and run headlong into trouble.
- Word. Paul warned the ship's officers of danger ahead. Commentators differ over whether this was his own judgment or a message from God.
- Vote. The centurion sided with the pilot and the owner, the men who knew ships and had money at stake. Any ordinary person would have done the same.
- Wind. A gentle south wind made the choice look right. Circumstances give no true guidance.
- Wreck. Steering by circumstances instead of faith runs headlong into trouble. Nothing can prove the judgment of faith wrong.
- Witness. By the end of the voyage the same men who overruled the prisoner trusted every word he said.
And the harbour being ill adapted to winter in, the most counselled to set sail thence, if perhaps they might reach Phoenice to winter in, a port of Crete looking north-east and south-east.
The crew had just heard Paul's warning and set it aside. Now the choice went to a vote: Fair Havens was a poor place to winter in, so most on board pushed to sail on to Phoenix.
The name Fair Havens sounded promising. But the bay was open to the weather, and everyone on board could see it.
Whatever its name promised, Fair Havens was certainly a poor place to spend the winter in. The bay is open to almost half the compass. Everyone could see this, so the majority advised to put to sea also from there, as from other places before (v. 12). They did not mean to press on toward Italy in such weather and at such a time. They hoped to reach the clearly better port of Phoenix, now identified as Lutro, though they knew well the risk of trying it.
Translations disagree about which way this harbour faced. The ESV has it facing southwest and northwest. One commentator reads the Greek the opposite way.
At the end of verse 12 the Authorized Version has this harbour of Crete, Phoenix or Lutro, lying "toward the south-west and north-west." What the clause says is that the harbour looks "down" (kata) south-west and down north-west. But looking down a wind means along or with the direction in which it blows, and not to the quarter it came from. So the port of Phoenix looks north-east and south-east. Those are the points exactly opposite to the ones people have understood.
Two kinds of counsel were on the table. One man had to choose between them.
The dangerous time of year had come, when ships normally broke off their voyages in some safe harbour. Here a conflict of opinion developed. The skipper wanted to reach Phoenix. Paul warned that they were about to run into disaster and loss — not only for the ship and cargo, but for their lives too. The Roman centurion, in charge of the party of prisoners, held the casting vote. He listened to worldly wisdom and sailing skill on one side, and to spiritual understanding on the other. He decided in favour of the skipper's advice.
The men who voted had the most to lose in the ship. Everything they could see supported them.
The master and the owner of the ship had the greatest interest in her. Circumstances guided them, not faith. They were willing to risk the search for a more comfortable harbour to spend the winter in, and it was no surprise that the centurion deferred to their judgment. All were against the judgment of the man of faith — the man of God — the man who was speaking and acting for God. Even the circumstances around them seemed to favour the sailors' opinion over the apostle's. But nothing can prove the judgment of faith false. It must be true despite every circumstance.
Later study of the site turned the argument around.
Mr. Smith studied the whole question on the spot with care and professional skill. He judged Fair Havens to be "so well protected by islands and reefs that, though not equal to Lutro, it must be a very fair winter harbour." Gales of north wind spring up there suddenly, often and with great force. If such a gale caught them on the passage from Fair Havens to Lutro, the ship would be driven off to sea. He concluded that "the prudence of the advice given by the master and owner was extremely questionable." So we may learn that there is such a thing as divine guidance in the ordinary things of life — short of inspiration, no doubt, but better than man's experience and wisdom.
The choice made that day keeps repeating.
This attitude has been repeated far too often in the history of the church. Paul's ministry has warned us of the dangers in the path. Yet instead of being content to wait on God in confined circumstances, we act in the hope of finding better circumstances, and run headlong into trouble.
- The counsel given. Fair Havens lay open to almost half the compass. So most on board advised sailing for Phoenix, a better winter port.
- The counsel weighed. The centurion had the casting vote between sailing skill and spiritual understanding. He chose the skipper.
- The counsel's ground. Circumstances guided the master and owner, not faith. Everything they could see seemed to back them.
- The counsel tested. Later study judged Fair Havens a fair winter harbour after all. God guides in ordinary things, better than man's experience can.
- The counsel's echo. Believers still refuse to wait on God in tight places. Reaching for better circumstances runs them into trouble.