Acts 27:1–44

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The place to which the ship belonged in which Paul sailed as a prisoner. Acts 27:2. It lies in Mysia, Asia Minor.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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 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.

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 "SEA OF CILICIA AND PAMPHYLIA," Acts 27:5, is the north-east corner of the Mediterranean Sea.

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).

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.

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).

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

How clearly the whole account shows that everything is in His hands: officers, winds and waves, all circumstances, are under His control.

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.

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.

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.

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Harbour on the south of the island of Crete, near the city of Lasea, about five miles to the east of Cape Matala.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Acts 27 stands out in the ordinary Authorised Version. Verse 9 is "the voyage," not sailing or navigation.

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.

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.

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.

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 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?

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!

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.

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."

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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!

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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 north-west wind ceased. A south wind sprang up. They weighed the anchor, hoping that they had gained their point and that their patience would pay off. They set sail, not expecting any storm, for they towed their life-boat instead of carrying it on board. It was only a short run. They would soon reach Phoenix. No need to trouble to hoist up the boat. Lulled into security, they left Fair Havens. The desired anchorage they never reached.

Mr. Smith studied the whole question on the spot with great care and professional skill. He said Fair Havens was "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 had caught the ship on the passage from Fair Havens to Lutro, it must have driven it out to sea. So Smith judged the advice of the master and the owner "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? We must be blind indeed to the facts of every day among God's children.

Any ordinary person, without a doubt, would have decided as the centurion did. Then 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. They set sail, only to be caught in the dreaded Euroclydon, a storm that upset all their plans. They proceeded by sight and not by faith, and all ended in disaster.

This he had, I judge, by the Spirit. He does not gather it from the winds and waves. It was only the authority of the Holy Spirit that could have warranted a stranger, a landsman, a prisoner too, to speak on such a subject with authority, opposing the judgment of "the owner," and "the master," and "the majority." The rest, on the contrary, were directed by providence, so called. The south wind blew gently, and they supposed that they had obtained their purpose. And so they sailed on. But the storm called Euroclydon quickly followed the soft southern breeze.

When the south wind blew gently, they thought they had gained their desire of reaching Phoenix. But God holds the winds in the hollow of His hand. The soft and favourable wind that tempted them to set sail did not continue... God was not willing that human means should save the many souls in the vessel. He willed that Paul's word should come true, and that Paul himself should be the reason for everyone's safety.

This attitude has repeated itself 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 to find better circumstances, and we run headlong into trouble.

Euroclydon. The name used by the sailors for a violent wind in the Mediterranean. Paul met it on the voyage that took him to Rome. Acts 27:14. Where the word comes from is not known. Some manuscripts read euraquilo instead. It may mean nothing more than a furious wind, like a Levanter today, whatever direction it blew from.

The hurricane that caught the ship "beat down" from Crete. That appears to be the true force of the Greek here. It does not mean "arose against it," that is, against the ship, as the Authorized Version has it (v. 14)... A tornado beating down the highlands of Crete makes a far more vivid picture than a wind striking the ship. A ship in that sea would meet a rushing east-north-east wind as a matter of course.

This he had, I judge, by the Spirit. He does not gather it from the winds and waves. Paul was a stranger, a man of the land, not a sailor, and a prisoner as well. Only the authority of the Holy Spirit could have justified him in speaking on such a subject with authority, against the judgment of "the owner," "the master," and "the majority." The rest, by contrast, followed what people call providence. The south wind blew softly, and they supposed that they had gained their purpose (v. 13). And so they sailed on. But a Euroclydon quickly followed the soft southern breeze, unexpected by those who looked around them, but confirming the witness of the man who learned his lesson from the Spirit (v. 14).

But God holds the winds in the hollow of His hand. The soft, favourable wind that tempted them to set sail did not last. Soon a violent wind called Euroclydon sprang up. It blows from Greece, and even more from the east. It drove them towards the south-west, threatening to throw them onto the quicksands of Africa... God did not want human means to save the many souls on the vessel. He wanted Paul's word to come true, and Paul himself to be the means of safety for all.

A violent change very soon took place. A northeast wind, Euraquillo, the most tempestuous known on the Mediterranean, arose with terrible fury. This drove the sailing vessel far off course, away from the island of Crete. Luke mentions how hard it was for them to secure the lifeboat, which was in danger of going overboard. In fact, it proved of no value to them anyway! We spend time and effort on human schemes to insure ourselves against possible danger, while the best insurance, obedience to God's word, we forget!

But our chief concern here is with Paul as the man of faith. What must the thoughts and feelings of his fellow-passengers have been now? They had trusted the wind, and now they must reap the whirlwind. They had rejected the solemn counsels and warnings of faith. Many, sadly, have ignored the warning recorded here. Carried by the flattering wind of favourable circumstances, they have launched out on the great voyage of life with no regard at all for the voice of faith. But that wind coaxed the vessel out of the harbour and then betrayed it. In the same way, everything soon changes into a furious tempest on the troubled sea of life.

The vessel sets out in good order, a solid and well-regulated thing, built to withstand the violence of the stormy ocean it had to cross. After a while the apostle makes a certain suggestion, and when it is rejected, the ship is dashed to pieces by the waves. There was, however, an important difference between the vessel and the individuals on board: the ship was lost, the people were all saved.

"Bear up into" is more literally to "face", a term often applied to the collisions of warfare and of common life. Some have traced it to the practice of painting an "eye" on each side of the bow, a custom common in ancient times and still found in the eastern Mediterranean.

It is not that the wind, then and there, did not let the ship make her way easily. The wind was such that she could not, and (verse 15) the ship was caught, and unable.

She had only just rounded Cape Matala, four or five miles out, when a violent wind from the shore caught the ship. It tossed her about, and the helmsman could no longer keep her on course. And as Luke observes, "We let her drive" — that is, they had no choice but to let her run before the wind.

Any ordinary person would have decided as the centurion did. When the wind veered and blew gently from the south, it looked as though God was favouring his decision. But again we see that circumstances give no true guidance. They set sail only to be caught in the dreaded Euroclydon, which upset all their plans. They went by sight and not by faith, and it all ended in disaster.

But God holds the winds in the hollow of His hand. The soft, favourable wind that tempted them to set sail did not last. Soon a violent wind called Euroclydon... sprang up and drove them to the south-west, threatening to throw them onto the sandbanks of Africa... God would not have the many souls on board saved by human means. His purpose was that Paul's word should come true, and that Paul himself should be the one through whom they were all kept safe.

They could not even tack against the wind: they had to let it drive them toward Clauda, an island to the south-west... Luke mentions how hard it was to secure the lifeboat, which was clearly in danger of being swept overboard. In fact, it proved of no value to them anyway! We spend time and effort on human schemes to insure ourselves against possible danger, and we forget the best insurance of all — obedience to God's word!

It is easy to see that all this may be used as a kind of allegory, picturing the soul's struggle for deliverance, whether from the guilt or the power of sin. Nothing was right until God stepped in, first by His word through Paul, and then by His power in the final shipwreck.

The master and owner of the ship was powerless. The Roman captain had command of the soldiers and prisoners, and he had put his confidence in that master. He was of no use whatever. All on board were equally helpless, all but one!

He was a prisoner, yet he looks as if he was really the master of the ship. If they had listened to his word in time, they would have been kept safe. How wonderful a thing faith is!

By running to the sheltered side of Clauda, they may have escaped the violence of the storm for a little while. This would give them a chance to make every preparation for riding out the storm.

The small island they were driven behind by the wind, into its shelter, is now called Gozzo. On the spot people say Chlavda, which is the modern Greek pronunciation of Clauda, so the identification is certain. It was under this shelter that they got the boat on board, though with difficulty (v. 16).

A south wind sprang up. They pulled up the anchor, hoping they had got what they wanted and that their patience would pay off. They set sail, expecting no storm, so they towed their lifeboat behind instead of carrying it on board. It was only a short run. They would soon reach Phoenix. No need to bother hoisting the boat up. Lulled into a sense of safety, they left Fair Havens. They never reached the anchorage they wanted.

Luke mentions how hard it was for them to secure the lifeboat, which was clearly in danger of being swept overboard. In fact, it proved of no value to them anyway! We spend time and effort on human schemes to insure ourselves against possible danger, while we forget the best insurance of all — obedience to God's word!

God had given His word to save all, but it must be in His way; and He Who promised the end insists on His own means. We have only to be subject and obey.

God was as good as His word, and every soul was saved. He kept His promise to the letter. He did not keep it roughly and more or less accurately, the way people so often do. We may take Him at His word with complete certainty. Yet this does not mean we can leave everything to fate and ignore ordinary, sensible precautions.

Paul was the special apostle to the Church. We believe that the detailed account of his voyage, shipwreck, and imprisonment gives us a symbolic picture. It pictures the journey of the professing Church from its glory and power in the apostles' day to its last days of ruin, shipwreck, and slavery under papal Rome. The Spirit of God would not record all the details of this journey and shipwreck for us if they had only historical value.

What all that happened to the ship stands for needs little comment. Driven by the wind (v. 15) — that is, every wind of doctrine. They made themselves masters of the boat (v. 16) — lording it over their possessions, and recognising positions of church mastery.

The Greek word here, used on its own in verse 13, meant weighing anchor. In verse 17 it has its ordinary sense of lifting or taking up. The 'helps' were means to counteract the violence of the gale, not the aid of the passengers as some have thought. 'Frapping' is the technical English for 'undergirding'. Sailors pass a large cable four or five times round the ship's hull.

Binding either ropes or chains round a ship in bad weather, to keep it from coming apart because it is old or badly built. Acts 27:17. The navy calls it frapping.

The Authorized Version's 'the quicksands' should really be 'the Syrtis'. There are two Syrtes. This was the greater or eastern one, now the gulf of Sidra: an object of great and natural dread to ancient seamen.

This verse contains one of the most serious of the many mistakes in the older versions. Had they 'struck sail', the wind must have driven the ship straight into the Syrtis. Mr. Smith says it is hard to imagine a worse translation than the Authorized Version's 'they strake sail, and so were driven'. It amounts to saying that, fearing a certain danger, they deprived themselves of the only possible means of avoiding it. Some sail is absolutely necessary to keep the ship steady, and to stop her pitching and rolling so deeply that she strains and works herself to pieces.

They lowered the gear also. This does not mean they left themselves with no sail at all. With some lowered sail left, they would at least keep some measure of control. Yet they were driven.

They got the boat on board only with great difficulty, and in the end it was useless for saving them. God did not want the many souls on the ship saved by human means. He wanted Paul's word to come true, and Paul himself to be the reason they were all kept safe.

They took every possible measure to work out their own salvation, but it had no effect, and in the end they gave up all hope. All this easily serves as a picture of the soul's struggle for deliverance, whether from the guilt or the power of sin. Nothing was right until God stepped in, first by His word through Paul, and then by His power in the final shipwreck.

But now let us leave the details of the voyage. They are interesting, because at every turn they prove how completely reliable the divine word is, and how far above all the versions and commentaries of the learned and pious. Let us turn to the devoted servant of the Lord, who stands out in the hour of need and danger and darkness.

In verse 18 we see them forced to the very common resort of getting rid of cargo. The Greek phrase used here, ekbolen poieisthai, is the proper term for it, as we may see in the Onomasticon of Julius Pollux. In verse 19 they go farther, and "with their own hands" the seamen threw away — what they would not have done except in immediate danger — the ship's furniture, spare gear, and so on.

The next day they lightened the ship by throwing overboard its cargo — not all of it, for there was wheat at least left (v. 38). The day following they threw out those furnishings of the ship that could be spared. Do we not see hinted in this the effort to keep the church from ruin by giving up some of the valuable blessings with which the grace of God has blessed her?

The south wind blew softly. Outwardly the prospect seemed favourable. The wind would keep them near the coast, since they would be travelling north-west. All began well: they sailed close to Crete. But 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 it away is disobedience to Him.

Luke mentions the difficulty with which they secured the lifeboat, which evidently was in danger of being swept overboard. In fact, it proved of no value to them anyway! We spend time and effort on human measures to insure against possible danger, while the best insurance, obedience to God's word, we forget!

Paul's voyage to Rome gives us the history of the Church as regards its earthly destinies. The vessel sets out in good order, a compact and well-run thing, built to stand the violence of the stormy ocean it had to cross. After a time the apostle offers a suggestion. They reject it, and the waves dash the ship to pieces. But there was an important difference between the vessel and the people on board: the ship was lost, the people were all saved.

With no sense of the value of the finished work of Christ, they feared running aground, and with cargo and furniture thrown overboard (v. 18, 19) they saw neither sun nor stars for many days (v. 20) and gave up all hope of salvation. No guidance from God. No access to His Word. What absolute, utter darkness!

The ship was to perish, as Paul was told, but there would be no loss of life. So the professing Church as a vessel of testimony will end in shipwreck, but the Lord will take out of it to Himself in glory every true believer. All that sail with Paul, those who belong to Christ and believe God as he did, will safely reach Immanuel's land.

In verse 18 we see them fall back on the very common remedy of getting rid of cargo... In verse 19 they go further. The seamen threw away the ship's furniture, spare gear and so on "with their own hands" — something they would not have done except in immediate danger. They could not see sun or stars, and that added to their danger. So did the violence of the weather, which went on so long.

On the third day Luke writes, "We cast out with our own hands the tackling of the ship." Notice that Luke, the author of the Acts of the Apostles, drops the usual "they" and "their" and says "we" and "our." This shows the danger the ship was in. Things must have become more than serious if passengers, including Paul, Luke and Aristarchus, helped the crew throw the ship's tackling overboard.

They lightened the ship by throwing freight overboard. That was not enough, so the next day they (not we) threw out the ship's tackling.

Everything possible was done to save the ship, but in vain. The description given us is perfectly exact, and even technical. But what is important for us is the position which the apostle occupies. All hope of escape was gone. But now God interposes, and by means of a revelation made to Paul, revives the failing courage of the sufferers.

The next day they lightened the ship by throwing overboard its cargo — not all of it, for there was wheat at least left (v. 38). The day following they threw out those furnishings of the ship that could be spared. Do we not see in this an effort to save the church from ruin by giving up some of the valuable blessings God's grace has given her?

With no sense of the value of the finished work of Christ, they feared running aground. Cargo and furniture went overboard (vv. 18, 19). Then they saw neither sun nor stars for many days (v. 20), and gave up all hope of salvation. No guidance from God. No access to His Word. What absolute utter darkness!

There was, however, an important difference between the ship and the people on board: the ship was lost, but the people were all saved... The apostles' testimony was meant to guide the Church on its course through this world and keep it from shipwreck. That testimony was rejected, and failure and ruin followed... The waves may dash the corporate thing to pieces — everything connected with earth may vanish away — "but whoever does the will of God abides forever."

In verse 18 we see them fall back on the very common resource of getting rid of cargo... In verse 19 they go further. "With their own hands" the seamen threw away the ship's furniture, spare gear, and so on — which they would not have done except in immediate danger. The inability to see sun or stars added to their danger, and so did the violence of the weather, which went on so long.

In Acts 27:20 it has the same sense. The stars did not "appear" — did not "shine." Titus 2:11: "The grace of God … has appeared."

At times the wind blew softly, and at times it was stormy. There were both quicksands and rocks to cause alarm. Neither sun nor stars appeared for many days. For two whole weeks the men on board had gone without food, taking nothing. All hope was taken away... All was done that men could do to weather the storm and reach the harbour, but it was all in vain. Despair had settled on crew and passengers alike. All they could do now was accept their fate.

Everything possible was done to save the ship, but in vain... All hope of escape was gone. But now God steps in, and by means of a revelation made to Paul, He revives the failing courage of the sufferers. The apostle reminds them of what he had said at Fair Havens. They should have followed his advice. Now they were reaping the fruit of refusing it and trusting the knowledge of the sailors.

So the prisoner is the saviour. He was on his way to appear before the power of this world, and he was in chains. Yet he is the vessel for carrying the truth, the grace and the power of Him who is above the world... The lives of all are given to him who was in chains. The most despised one is the one whom the Lord of life, and light, and glory owns. And such a man gets all God's secrets.

They had lost all control of their vessel on the open sea, far from land. Neither sun nor stars appeared for many days. Yet God graciously guided the ship to the first land in front of them... An angel of God visited the ship. The eye of God rested continuously on it. The hand of God safely guided it. And the message from God to Paul was like a light shining in a dark place, putting a bright line of hope along the edge of the thick dark cloud of their troubles.

The ship on which Paul sailed went to pieces, but all hands came safe to land. It seems as if this incident, which God has recorded, has a prophetic bearing. Every organization of men will fail as a vessel of the truth, and all hopes placed in human strength will perish. But the work of God will remain, and every soul touched by His gracious Spirit and brought to Christ will come safely to land.

Many days had passed, and neither sun nor stars appeared. The storm went on. Hope of safety had fallen to almost the vanishing point. Then they heard the prisoner's voice again... Day after day the wind and sea had tossed them about, drifting in Adria. Fourteen days of that must have pretty well worn them out, with anxiety, hunger, and no doubt lack of rest. Now he had a more encouraging message to give. He could speak of life, not of death. They had been expecting nothing but death. But how could he promise that? No land was in sight. No help was at hand... God knew the very spot where they were, and an angel, unknown to them, had stood on board that night.

He does not seem to claim God-given foresight for his warning. The words he uses in verse 10 are simply his own judgment. They stand in apparent contrast to the prophetic announcement of 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. He could not have guaranteed that when he first spoke.

Paul now stands forward. He tells everyone on the ship that the Lord had stood by him. The Lord had assured him that he must appear before Caesar. And God had given him the lives of all on board... He told them to be of good cheer. We can well imagine the effect this would have on them. Here is a prisoner claiming that his Lord has committed all their lives to him. What a turning of the tables! Not the centurion or the captain, but Paul is the leading figure on that ship.

He will have nothing trusted but the promise. If they turn to the boat, they at once put their confidence in other resources, in means of safety apart from God. Then they reject the promise, and death must follow... But according to the same promise, the ship goes to pieces. It is worth nothing, never to be used again. But the lives are spared. Not a hair of anyone's head perishes. Some swim, some float on planks, but all get their lives.

After two weeks of tossing on the wild seas, everyone must have felt miserable and low. But what did feelings have to do with the matter? God had spoken, and Paul's attitude was, "I believe God," despite all the feelings in the world.

The ship was to perish, as Paul was told, but there would be no loss of life. So the professing Church, as a vessel of testimony, will end in shipwreck. But the Lord will take every true believer out of it to Himself in glory. All who sail with Paul, those who belong to Christ and believe God as he did, will safely reach Immanuel's land.

It was when they were nearly starved and quite hopeless that the angel of God appeared to Paul. Nearly two weeks had passed since the storm began, and until this point Paul had not had anything authoritative to say. But now the word of God had reached him. It told him that he must appear before Caesar, and that he and everyone sailing with him would be saved. Since God had spoken, Paul could speak with authority and full assurance. After two weeks of tossing on the wild seas, everyone on board must have felt miserable and low. But what had feelings to do with the matter? God had spoken, and Paul's attitude was, "I believe God," despite all the feelings in the world.

In the middle of the sea of Adria God knew where Paul was, and He communicated with him there. The crew thought their position hopeless. Drifting helplessly at the mercy of the weather and the currents, they were powerless. God, however, knew the very spot where they were; and an angel, unknown to them, had actually stood on board that night. The owner did not see him. The centurion was unaware of his presence. Even Luke had not noticed that he was near. But Paul saw him and heard him.

Paul and Timothy were slaves because they were bought with a price (1 Corinthians 6:20; 7:23). They were slaves too because love bound them to their Master, Christ Jesus, with the strongest of all bonds. Can I, can you, truthfully be called "slaves of Christ Jesus"? We can understand in a measure that men may be His slaves. But when we find that Christ Jesus Himself took the form of a slave, and that He is "a Slave for ever", that is beyond us. We joyfully fall at His feet and cry: "Whose I am, and Whom I serve."

Humbleness and dignity are joined here. So are faith and love, together with the unflinching confession of Him Whose he was and Whom he served. There is no seeking to please or win men as his aim. He remains the Lord's slave. He testifies to a direct revelation sent at that very time. He declares how that revelation testified to God's compassion toward them all, joined to His special favour to His servant. And all this in the middle of this busy, blind, selfish, godless world.

The prisoner is the one who saves. He was on his way to appear before the power of this world, and he was in chains. Yet he is the vessel for carrying the truth, the grace, and the power of Him who is above the world. This is weakness made strong. This is the mystery of God's salvation in a world that has destroyed itself... The lives of all are given to the man who was in chains. The most despised one is the one whom the Lord of life, and light, and glory owns. And such a man gets all God's secrets.

The Master's company given to His servant was not an isolated case. We are assured of the opposite: the faithful, suffering apostle enjoyed it and knew it continually. The mind goes at once to Acts 23:11 and Acts 27:23-25, where most blessed instances of the same kind are recorded... Yes, much was special about the beloved apostle to the Gentiles and his mission. Even so, the presence of the Lord, the cheer of His company, is certainly the portion of all His faithful servants until travelling days are done.

He had to bear witness before Caesar. God used his journey to Jerusalem to bring him before Caesar himself, and it could not have happened any other way. Far from abandoning him, He displays His grace and power to him most fully.

God's interest in that ship was mainly because His servant was on board. That servant, Paul, must one day stand before Caesar. Divine wisdom had decided that this great man, Caesar, must hear the gospel through God's imprisoned servant. And there was more: God had given him all who sailed with him. Their lives would be spared because Paul was on the ship.

In the middle of the sea of Adria God knew where Paul was, and so communicated with him. The crew had given up hope. They drifted at the mercy of the weather and the currents, powerless. God, however, knew the very spot where they were. An angel, unknown to them, had stood on board that night. The owner did not see him. The centurion did not know he was there. Even Luke had not noticed him. But Paul saw him and heard him. Paul must go to Rome, so the ship could not sink at sea with all on board. And no life would be lost, for God had given to that prisoner — as they saw him — the owner, the centurion, the soldiers, the prisoners, and the crew.

God did not want the many souls in that ship to be saved by human means. He wanted Paul's word to come true, and Paul himself to be the reason they were all safe.

The prisoner is therefore the saviour. He was on his way to appear before the power of this world, and in chains. Yet he is the vessel for carrying the truth, the grace, and the power of Him who is above the world. This follows the pattern of the Crucified One, who is the life of the world. This is weakness made strong… The lives of all are given to him who was in chains. The most despised one is the one whom the Lord of life, and light, and glory owns.

All the probabilities of the situation would also have contradicted what the angel had said. Think of a small sailing ship packed with 276 people, wrecked and destroyed in days when there were no friendly lifeboats. That every one of the 276 should still be saved was so unlikely that people called it impossible. But God had said it, so Paul laughed at the impossibility and said, "It shall be done."

He was calm about the outcome; and, in the power of this assurance, he tried to quiet the fears of others. Faith in the word of God to him was of supreme importance then, as it is now, and always. To bring God into a difficulty is as good as removing it. And none of us will be any help to our fellow-travellers unless we are living in the power of confidence in God.

"There will be no loss of life among you," Paul had declared… They reached the island, and the roll could be called, with no one missing from the company that had left Fair Havens. What a thing it was to be linked with Paul in this way! All, given by God to him, were saved from shipwreck. And we can say that all given by God to Christ will certainly be saved.

Here we have the whole secret of faith — "I believe God." The first man and his wife lost confidence in their Creator in the garden. They chose instead to trust the word of the serpent. Ever since then, distrusting and disbelieving God has been common among people. Faith is the soul coming back to that first confidence in its Maker.

He does not seem to claim God-given foresight for his warning. The words he uses in verse 10 are simply his own judgment. They stand in apparent contrast to the prophetic message announced in verses 21-26. "I perceive," which opens a general warning of danger, is very different from "I believe God." The second comes with an exact assurance: the ship would be lost, but no life among the passengers and crew. That last point he could not guarantee when he first spoke out.

A small sailing ship packed with 276 people would be wrecked and destroyed, in days when no lifeboats stood by to help. Yet every one of the 276 would come out alive. That was so unlikely that people would call it impossible. But God had said it, so Paul laughed at the impossibility and said, "It shall be done."

After two weeks of tossing on wild seas, everyone on board must have felt terrible and low. But what did feelings have to do with it? God had spoken, and Paul's attitude was, "I believe God," despite all the feelings in the world.

There were 276 people on board a doomed ship, and every one of them was hopeless and panic-stricken except Paul. What made him the one man in that crowd who could bring comfort? He could say without a tremor or doubt, "I believe God." This is what held him up and lifted him above the terror of the storm.

He clearly declared his faith in the word of the Lord. Amid the unbelief and turning away of our day we, too, should tell men and women, "I believe God. It shall be even as the Scriptures tell us." Whether people believe the Bible or not, we should state plainly, "I believe God."

The testimony God gives us deals with matters far greater than being saved for this life only. It reaches us not from the mouth of an angel, but through the holy and inspired Writings, which we now have in print in our own language. Our acceptance of it is to be just as definite. We simply believe God, and in doing so we certify that God is true.

They did everything possible to save the ship, but it was useless… The storm carries them onto the island of Malta… All hope of escape was gone. But now God steps in. Through a revelation given to Paul, He revives the failing courage of the sufferers… God was watching over Paul. Paul had to appear before Caesar; and full of grace, the Lord had given him all those who were with him.

In the middle of the sea of Adria God knew where Paul was, and so communicated with him. The crew had thought their position hopeless. They were drifting at the mercy of the weather and the currents. They were powerless. God, however, knew the very spot where they were; and an angel, unknown to them, had actually stood on board that night. The owner did not see him. The centurion was unaware of his presence. Even Luke had not noticed that he was near. But Paul saw him and heard him… A sign was coming. "We must run aground," said Paul, "on some island."

Notice two things in that divine message to the apostle, while he was a prisoner in the hands of the Gentiles through the hostility of the Jews. First, he can speak of all his fellow travellers as given to him by God — not for eternal life, of course, but for present safety. Second, he predicts that they must be driven ashore on a certain island, without pretending to know more. God had not revealed its name, and Paul keeps to that. God gave the revelation to exalt Himself, not man.

Paul, who had foretold the approaching shipwreck on an island, did not know what that island would be until they had landed. Its name had not been disclosed beforehand.

Heading for the beach, they came to a place where two seas met, apparently caused by the island now called Salmonetta, in St. Paul's Bay. There they drove the ship aground (v. 41). In few other places could it have happened just as described here. There was a deep bed of mud, where the bow stuck and held fast, while the stern began to break up under the force of the waves.

The vessel goes to pieces. The lives of all are preserved. But it was not the vessel, but the promise that preserved the travellers. They had been committed to the ship; but the ship breaks apart, and the promise is their ark in the waters again. … The voyage may end in complete wreck. … But all who hang on the promise, all who trust the word of man's Prisoner, God's Messenger, survive.

However, such an application needs caution. It is easy to read fanciful, far-fetched pictures into the story… The central figure, the prisoner of the Lord, must hold our attention more than anything else.

God was as good as His word, and every soul was saved. He kept His promise literally and exactly — not roughly, not just near enough, the way people so often keep theirs. We may take Him at His word with absolute certainty. Yet this does not mean we can become fatalistic and ignore ordinary, sensible care… They did not fold their arms and do nothing, as fatalism would have decreed. They took the ordinary, sensible steps while trusting in God's word.

This heavy gale continued for fourteen days and nights without a break. During that time their sufferings must have been great beyond description.

The ordeal continued until the fourteenth night. It was almost a miracle that all of them survived it.

There is no real difficulty with "the Adriatic" in verse 27. The name was often used in a much wider sense than for the sea between Greece and Italy, as Ptolemy and Pausanias show. Modern usage limits the Adriatic to the gulf only. So there is no reason here to think of a different Melita (that is, Melida) rather than Malta, as it is usually understood.

But where was the island, and what was its name? No one on board knew then, and the angel had not said. At midnight, however — and that night was a dark one — the trained ears of the sailors detected that land was near. They very likely heard the noise of distant breakers. Yet no one could see what the waves were crashing against. Were Paul's words really coming true?

They had lost all control of their vessel on the open sea, far from land. For many days neither sun nor stars appeared. Yet God graciously guided the ship to the first land in front of them... the breakers ahead and the soundings taken had warned the sailors to anchor, by God's providence, at just the spot they did. But would the anchors hold? They did... Shall we not admit the hand of God in all this? An angel of God visited the ship. The eye of God rested continuously on it. The hand of God safely guided it.

The night was dark and stormy. The battered vessel was in danger of going down at her anchors, or of being smashed to pieces on the rocky shore. But there was one on board who was perfectly happy through it all. The state of the ship, the shallow water, the alarming sound of the breakers, held no terror for him. He was happy in the Lord, and in full communion with His very thoughts and purposes. This is the Christian's place in the middle of every storm, though few rise to it. Faith alone can reach it.

Every eye turns to Paul the prisoner — the man of faith — the man who believes and acts according to the revelation of God. Circumstances often mislead when we look to them for direction. The word of God is our only sure guide, in fair weather or foul.

Fathom, ὀργυιά (4 Cubits) … 6.0675 feet — Acts 27:28.

The term "Adriatic" now means only the sea between Italy, Dalmatia and Albania. In earlier times it had a wider meaning. It also took in the part of the Mediterranean that Sicily, Italy, Greece and Africa enclose. The difference matters. Malta (Melita), where Paul was shipwrecked, does not lie in the Adriatic Sea of today, though it does lie in the sea that people once called by that name.

The sounding of the lead showed that land was near, and great danger with it, which the night made them feel all the more… The breakers probably gave rise to the sailors' suspicion, and their repeated soundings confirmed it (ver. 28). Those breakers are a distinctive feature of the point of Koura, near St. Paul's Bay, as Mr. Smith has shown from Smyth's view of the headland.

At midnight, however — and that night was a dark one — the trained ears of the sailors picked up that land was near. They very likely heard the noise of distant breakers. Yet no one could see what the water was crashing against. Were Paul's words really coming true? Had they neared the unnamed island? By sounding they found that the water was twenty fathoms deep. Sounding soon after, they found the depth had dropped to fifteen.

What reader of any translation, even a believing one, would expect this? Every scholar ought to know it. Here is more real information about an ancient merchant ship, given simply and in passing, than perhaps all the surviving works of Greek and Roman authors hold.

Historical research and inscriptions have confirmed the facts given in this chapter. The accuracy of Luke's nautical observations shows in the great help he has given to our understanding of ancient seamanship. No one has challenged the correctness of his phrases. On the contrary, his description runs to only a few sentences, and yet from it people have identified the scene of the wreck.

After this, Paul lets the crew do a great deal on board. They sounded, cast anchors out from the stern, and lightened the ship (vv. 28, 29)… But he will let them trust nothing except the promise (v. 31). If they turn to the boat, they at once put their confidence in other resources, in means of safety apart from God. Then they reject the promise, and death must follow.

God had given His word to save all, but it must be in His way; and He who promised the end insists on His own means. We have only to be subject and obey.

At midnight — and it was a dark night — the trained ears of the sailors picked up that land was near. They very likely heard the noise of distant breakers. Yet no one could see what they were being driven onto... Clearly they were approaching some shore fast, so they thought it wise to anchor and wait for the day. So they cast four anchors out from the stern. This would soon stop the ship moving forward, and save them from running aground in the dark.

The breakers... probably made the sailors suspect land, and their repeated soundings confirmed it. In such conditions, anchoring from the stern was the safer course. Ancient ships carried many anchors. The sailing directions show that the seabed there holds very well, so there is no danger as long as the cables hold.

God was as good as His word, and every soul was saved. He kept His promise to the letter — not roughly and near enough, as people so often do. We may take Him at His word with absolute certainty. Yet this does not mean we can become fatalistic and ignore ordinary measures of prudence. This is also illustrated in our story... They did not fold their arms and do nothing, as fatalism would have it. They took the ordinary, sensible precautions while trusting God's word.

After this, Paul lets them do much on the ship. There was a sounding, a casting of anchors from the stern, and a lightening of the ship. And he gives great encouragement and cheer of heart. But he will let them trust nothing except the promise. If they turn to the boat, they at once place their confidence in other resources, in plans for safety that leave God out. Then the promise is rejected, and death must follow.

When Paul was on his way to Rome, four anchors were needed to hold the ship. The anchor is used as a picture of the hope set before the Christian; it goes in behind the veil, and is sure and steadfast. It was a great thing for the Hebrew believers to have their eyes turned to heaven; the anchor of their hope was there. No matter what storms they might meet, the fulfilment of their hope was certain if it was set on Christ.

This kept them safe from the rocks and shipwreck through the night. Here is an important example of the way of safety for us today, in the middle of the storms of Satan's opposition. There are many rocks around us which will make shipwreck of our faith if we fall on them.

His coming will rescue His own in mercy — out of all the ruin of the Church, and out of the evil around them. So the hope of the mercy of the Lord, especially at His coming, is a real anchor for the believer. Notice that in Acts 27:29 they cast out the four anchors and wished for the day. The day of His coming is the hope and bright prospect of the true Church.

In verse 30 the sense is to lay or carry out, not to "cast out," anchors.

It was not exactly "casting out anchors", which would not need a boat. They pretended they were going to carry anchors out from the bow, which was a normal thing to do, but they meant to desert the ship.

Here the sailors made a natural but ungenerous attempt to save their own lives. They lowered the boat as if to lay out anchors from the bow, but they intended to desert the sinking ship.

A word from Paul unmasked their plan to the centurion. At once the soldiers cut the ropes and let the boat go adrift. Clearly the centurion had some authority on board. And Paul had gained a well-deserved influence over him and the soldiers. They listened now to him.

Paul discovered their plan. He said to the centurion and soldiers, "Unless these men stay in the ship, you (not we) cannot be saved." God had given him all who were in the ship. The work of the sailors was needed when the daybreak came.

God had given His word to save all, but it must be in His way; and He Who promised the end insists on His own means. We have only to be subject and obey.

Yet this does not mean that we can become fatalistic and ignore ordinary, sensible precautions. Our story shows this too. Paul had announced that all would be saved. Even so, he did not let the sailors flee out of the ship, since their presence was needed... They did not fold their arms and do nothing, as fatalism would have decreed. They took ordinary, sensible precautions while trusting in God's word.

Cutting therefore the ropes of the boat, the soldiers let her drop off. Their salvation was to depend on God, and they had to acknowledge it. If human means could have saved any, they could have saved all. But all would have died if the sailors had not stayed on board. God had to do all the work.

No one now looks to the ship's captain or the crew for wisdom and safety. Every eye turns to Paul the prisoner — the man of faith, the man who believes and acts according to the revelation of God. Circumstances often mislead us when we look to them for direction. The word of God is our only sure guide, in fair weather or foul.

As a picture, does this not tell us that deserting the testimony of the church is no remedy for its condition?

Such an application needs caution. It is easy to make fanciful and far-fetched allegorical applications.

The unworthy design of the sailors was defeated by Paul. It was not exactly "casting out anchors", which would not need a boat. They pretended to lay out anchors from the bow, which was no unusual measure, but they meant to desert the ship (v. 30). His word of warning to the centurion and the soldiers was enough: "Unless these men stay in the ship, you cannot be saved" (v. 31). Acting quickly, as soldiers do, they cut off the ropes of the boat and let it fall away (v. 32). God had given His word to save all, but it must be in His way; and He Who promised the end insists on His own means. We have only to be subject and obey.

After this, Paul lets the men do much in the ship. They sound the depth, cast anchors out from the stern, and lighten the ship (vv. 28, 29). And he gives great encouragement and cheer of heart (vv. 33-38). But he will let them trust nothing except the promise (v. 31). If they turn to the boat, they at once put their confidence in other resources, in ways of safety independent of God. Then they reject the promise, and death must follow. The waters will swallow all who are not in the ark of the promise.

We can quote passages where the word is used this way. 2 Kings 13:5 and Nehemiah 9:27 refer to the judges of Israel as saviours. In Acts 27:31, "Paul said to the centurion, Unless these men stay in the ship, you cannot be saved" — most evidently referring to temporal salvation.

Paul discovered their plan. He said to the centurion and soldiers, "Unless these men stay in the ship, you [not we] cannot be saved." God had given him everyone in the ship. When daybreak came, they would need the sailors' work.

The apostle's God-given counsel was the means of saving all on board... No one now looks to the ship's captain or the crew for wisdom and safety. Every eye turns to Paul the prisoner — the man of faith, the man who believes and acts according to the revelation of God. Circumstances often mislead us when we look to them for direction. The word of God is our only sure guide, in fair weather or foul.

A word from Paul unmasked their design to the centurion... The centurion clearly had some authority on board. And the apostle had gained a well-deserved influence over him and the soldiers. They listened to him now.

The soldiers cut off the ropes of the boat, and the sailors had no time to board it. As a picture, does this not tell us that deserting the testimony of the church is no remedy for its condition?

The unworthy design of the sailors was defeated by Paul. This was not really "casting out anchors", which would not need a boat at all. They pretended to be laying out anchors from the bow, a normal step in itself, but they meant to desert the ship (v. 30). Paul's warning to the centurion and the soldiers was enough: "Unless these men stay in the ship, you cannot be saved" (v. 31). Quick to act, as soldiers are, they cut the ropes and let the boat fall away (v. 32). God had given His word to save all, but it must be in His way; and He Who promised the end insists on His own means. We have only to be subject and obey.

Their salvation was to depend on God, and they had to acknowledge it. If human means could have saved some, they could have saved all. But all would have died if the sailors had not stayed on board. God had to do all the work.

After this, Paul allows much to be done on the ship. They take soundings, cast anchors from the stern, and lighten the ship (vv. 28, 29). He also gives them great encouragement and lifts their hearts (vv. 33-38). But he will let them trust nothing except the promise (v. 31). Turn to the boat, and you at once put your confidence in other resources, in ways of safety apart from God. Then you reject the promise, and death must follow.

God was as good as His word, and every soul was saved. He kept His promise to the letter — not roughly and near enough, as people so often do. We may take Him at His word with absolute certainty. Yet this does not mean we can become fatalistic and ignore ordinary, sensible precautions… Paul had announced that all would be saved. Even so, he did not let the sailors flee from the ship, because they were needed on board. Later, when everyone had eaten enough, they lightened the ship still more by throwing the wheat into the sea. They did not fold their arms and do nothing, as fatalism would demand. They took sensible precautions, and trusted God's word at the same time.

No one now looks to the ship's captain or the crew for wisdom and safety. Every eye turns to Paul the prisoner — the man of faith, who believes what God has revealed and acts on it. Circumstances often mislead us when we look to them for direction. The word of God is our only sure guide, in fair weather or foul.

The soldiers cut the ropes of the boat, and the sailors had no time to get into it. As a picture, does this not tell us that abandoning the church's testimony is no cure for its condition?

So they all heard the cheerful voice of the Apostle, calling them to eat. Paul seemed in command now. It was his word which made the soldiers cut the boat adrift. Now his voice called everyone on board to eat. But eat within earshot of breakers? Eat with shipwreck about to happen? Eat at such a time of intense anxiety? Yes.

How remarkably God had brought Paul forward on this voyage! A prisoner on his way to Rome, chained, we presume, to soldiers — who would have given him a thought? His first advice was ignored, and the captain learned by experience the folly of his own. When encouragement was needed, Paul gave it, and announced that God had given him everyone on the vessel (v. 24). When direction was required, Paul supplied it (v. 31). When the last meal on board was to be taken, Paul called them to it (v. 34), and so they were strengthened for the work ahead of them.

Paul then comforts them and persuades them to eat. The storm had kept them from any regular meal for fourteen days.

It was impossible to take proper food. Going without food for so long had weakened their bodies. It had also lowered the hope in their minds that might otherwise have risen.

"This day," he said, "is the fourteenth day that you have waited and continued fasting, having taken nothing. So I urge you to take some food, for this is for your health [or rather, safety]. Not a hair shall fall [rather, perish] from the head of any of you" (vv. 33, 34).

God had given His word to save all, but it must be in His way. He who promised the end insists on His own means, and we have only to be subject and obey... The apostle urged them all to eat after their long fast, assuring them beyond all doubt that they would be kept safe (vv. 33, 34). He set the example himself, after thanking God in front of them all (v. 35).

Suppose he had spoken words of faith and then stayed depressed and dejected like the rest. No one would have paid much attention to what he said. Instead, having announced words of good cheer, he was himself plainly of good cheer. He gave thanks to God, he took food, and he urged the others to do the same. His actions proved that his faith was real, and everyone was impressed by it. They too were of good cheer and took food. The circumstances had not changed yet. But they were changed as the confidence of faith found a place in their hearts.

Olshausen said that for the Christians this was the celebration of the Lord's Supper, or of a love-feast. There is no ground for that. The words Luke uses are indeed the words used for those meals. But the same words are just as clearly used of an ordinary meal in Luke 24:30 and elsewhere... It is the object of the Lord's Supper that gives it its character, and that was entirely out of place here. But even the most ordinary food should be sanctified by the word of God and prayer. Here the apostle acts on his own instruction to Timothy (1 Tim. 4:5-6).

The church passes through troubles too. Because of them, we neglect the feeding of our souls on the truth of the Word of God... Let us take Paul's words to heart. He adds to this call the assurance that God would preserve every one of them.

But who would begin? Who would set the example? Paul took bread and gave thanks to God in the presence of them all. When he had broken it, he began to eat. Encouraged by his example, all were of good cheer, and took some food, and were refreshed. They all ate of it together — prisoners, crew, centurion, and master. It was their last meal on board, but not just the prelude to death.

If, having spoken words of faith, he had stayed depressed and dejected like the rest, no one would have paid much attention to what he said. Instead, having announced words of good cheer, he was himself plainly of good cheer. He gave thanks to God, he ate, and he urged the others to do the same. Because his actions backed up the reality of his faith, everyone was impressed by it. They too were of good cheer and took food. The circumstances had not changed yet, but they had changed for them as the confidence of faith found a place in their hearts.

There is no basis for another commentator's claim that this was, for the Christians, a celebration of the Lord's Supper or a love-feast. The words are the same ones used for that, but they are used just as clearly of an ordinary meal in Luke 24:30 and elsewhere. In fact there is a good deal of superstition in the meaning too often attached to them. It is the purpose of the Lord's Supper that gives it its character, and that was entirely out of place here. But even the most ordinary food should be sanctified by the word of God and prayer, and here the apostle acts on his own instructions to Timothy (1 Timothy 4:5-6). No wonder they all became cheerful and took food! They had been dejected for a long time, unwilling to eat, with death in front of their eyes.

With perfect calm and confidence, he stands up and urges and encourages, corrects and instructs. Then, in front of everyone on board, he takes bread, gives thanks to God, breaks it and begins to eat. The prisoner turned commander and instructor — but all in dependence on his God.

He then gives thanks and eats himself, to encourage them. Then all take heart, and eat too. They were refreshed enough now. They ate with more courage, cheered by the courage of the one who walked with God and knew His secret. So they begin to lighten the ship by throwing the grain overboard. It was not wrong to do so. God can take up the means and the intelligence of men and use them; but these means did not do much good; the hand of God did everything.

Before the whole company, two hundred and seventy-six persons, Paul took bread and gave thanks to God. They all became encouraged by the words and action. It all has its lessons. The meal tells us in picture how necessary it is that we feed on the bread of life in days of danger, the times when everything breaks up.

It is plain enough that the word translated "soul" means different things in different places. In some cases it means the person himself (Acts 27:37). Sometimes it means a person's life (v. 22). Sometimes it means that part of man which stands in contrast with the body — the part through which the body lives, and by which man is in contact with the things here and enjoys them. The spirit, on the other hand, is that by which he is in relationship with God, and responsible to Him.

The number of people on the ship is recorded here — 276. If all the soldiers under the centurion were on board, this would be 100. So there were many passengers besides. These included Luke and Aristarchus, as well as the prisoners and of course the sailors.

Two hundred and seventy-six souls were on board a doomed ship. Every one of them was hopeless and panic-stricken except Paul. What was it that made him the one man in that crowd who could bring comfort to it? He could say, without a tremor or a doubt, "I believe God."

Their salvation was to depend on God, and they had to acknowledge it. If human means could have saved any, they could have saved all. But all would have perished if the sailors had not remained on board. God had to do all the work.

"There will be no loss of life among you," Paul had declared. "Not a hair is to perish from the head of any of you," he had promised that very morning. It all came true. They reached the island, and when they called the roll, no one was missing from the company that had left Fair Havens. What a thing it was to be linked with Paul like this! God had given them all to him, and they all came safely through the shipwreck. And we can say that all given by God to Christ will certainly be saved.

No doubt each one on the ship took courage from the words Paul spoke and the encouragement he gave; but the courage taken from the Word of God became corrupted, and confidence in self took its place. So pride enters in. A simple matter to number the people (v. 37), but what consequences! David learned this the hard way (2 Sam. 24).

It is said that no other ancient writing tells us as much about how a ship of that day worked. Even the critics have admitted that this chapter "bears the most indisputable marks of authenticity."

They ate with more courage, cheered by the courage of the one who walked with God and shared His secret. Refreshed enough, they begin to lighten the ship by throwing the grain overboard. It was not wrong to do so. God can take up the means and the intelligence of men and use them. But these means did not do much good. The hand of God did everything.

We may take Him at His word with absolute certainty. Yet this does not mean we can be fatalistic and ignore sensible precautions. Our story shows this too. Paul had announced that all would be saved. Even so, he did not let the sailors escape from the ship, because the crew was needed. Later, when all had eaten enough, they lightened the ship further by throwing the wheat into the sea. They did not fold their arms and do nothing, as fatalism would demand. They took the ordinary precautions, and they trusted God's word.

All were cheered, refreshed, and strengthened. Now they had to take steps to run the vessel ashore if possible. With the boat gone adrift, beaching the ship seemed the natural and proper course. So they lightened it. They threw what was left of the wheat cargo into the sea, ready for the next steps once daylight showed them exactly where they were.

The next day they lightened the ship by throwing overboard its cargo — not all of it, for there was wheat at least left (v. 38). The day following they threw out those furnishings of the ship that could be spared.

The record carefully adds their number (verse 37): two hundred and seventy-six. Then comes the lightening of the ship — a fresh nautical expression — by throwing out the wheat (verse 38). They had eaten their last meal before the wreck, and the closing verses describe that wreck in fine detail.

The wheat would correspond to all the truth connected with Christ in resurrection (John 12:23-24). It would correspond to all food that strengthens our appreciation of Him in glory and so shapes us more and more into His image. It would correspond to all ministry whose object is that we live down here as people who belong to heaven and have Christ as our life. We have died with Him and been raised with Him. How dare we throw it overboard! How dare we say "we have had enough"!

After throwing the wheat overboard they cannot recognise the land. So they try to make do as best they can. Is our spiritual sight also weakened because we are not feasting on "the whole counsel of God" that Paul announced (Acts 20:27)? Have we relied instead on our own convenient fixes for the state we are in, as individuals and as a group?

People have wondered that none of the sailors knew the land (v. 39). But those able to judge tell us this spot lies far from the well-known harbour of Valetta, and it has no marked feature to recognise it by.

Safe on shore, they learned — that is, Paul and all of them — where they were. They knew it was an island, for Paul had predicted that. Now they learned that its name was Melita... The well-known island of Malta, called Melita in ancient times, was without doubt the island the ship was driven onto. Paul's Bay is where it was lost.

They found themselves near the mouth of a creek bounded by shores rather than rocky crags, a convenient place to run the ship aground. If the weather had been good they might have tried moving along the shore to look for a landing. But they were no longer willing to battle the wind and waves, or to risk being wrecked on the rocks.

A "bosom" literally is an arch, a breast or a bay (compare Acts 27:39). But it is also used in a figurative sense... The point is that we should learn about the nearness and intimacy of the eternal relationship between Father and Son.

They had lost all control of their vessel on the open sea, far from land, and for many days neither sun nor stars appeared. God graciously guided the ship to the first land in front of them. Then, nearing the shore, though they could not yet see it, they cast out anchors from the stern. They could hear the breakers crashing against the rocks of Koura Point... Had she run on the rocks, would any have survived to tell the tale? ... But would the anchors hold? They did. It seems the anchorage ground is formed of very sticky clay, which stopped the ship from dragging... And then when daylight lit up the scene, there in front was the strand where they could drive the weather-beaten vessel. Shall we not admit the hand of God in all this?

After Paul had announced that all would be saved, he did not let the sailors flee from the ship, since they were needed... They did not fold their arms and do nothing, as fatalism would have decreed, but took the ordinary measures of prudence while trusting in God's word. The ending was truly miraculous. In one way or another all were saved.

God can take up the means and the intelligence of men and use them; but these means did not do much good; the hand of God did everything.

It is remarkable how the ship's master and pilot disappear from view at all these times of danger, and when wise action is needed. The apostle is the one who truly guides at the crisis. The sailors are mentioned only as plotting treachery that came to nothing.

The Authorized Version here (verse 40) is far from accurate. They did not take up the anchors, but cast them away (literally, all round), and abandoned them — not "themselves" — into the sea. Loosing the bands that held the rudders was a necessary act. The rudders were attached to the stern on each quarter. When a ship was anchored by the stern, the crew had to lift the rudders out of the water and tie them up with lashings. They loosed those lashings again when the ship got under way. Further, it was not the "mainsail", but the foresail, which they raised to the wind.

It is remarkable how the master and the pilot disappear from notice at all these times of danger, and whenever wise measures are needed. The apostle really guides at the crisis.

They had lost all control of their vessel on the open sea, far from land. For many days neither sun nor stars appeared. Even then, God graciously guided the ship to the first land in front of them… It appears that the anchorage ground is formed of very sticky clay, which effectively stopped the ship from dragging. So they were kept fast and safe through the rest of that night. Then daylight lit up the scene, and there in front lay the beach where they could run the weather-beaten vessel aground — as they did. Shall we not admit the hand of God in all this?

God was as good as His word, and every soul was saved. He kept His promise literally and exactly. He did not keep it roughly, in the near-enough way that is so common among people. We may take Him at His word with absolute certainty. Yet this does not mean we can leave everything to fate and ignore ordinary sensible precautions… They did not fold their arms and do nothing, as leaving it all to fate would have demanded. They took the ordinary sensible precautions, while trusting God's word.

While the ship was anchored it was kept safe. But the next day they cast off the anchors into the sea, ran into a place where two seas met, and the ship was wrecked. This shows us how important it is to be anchored. It also shows how soon shipwreck follows when the anchors are cast aside. If we ourselves give up one or all of these anchors provided for us, it will mean spiritual disaster.

The truth will be cast away yet more and more, and every wind of doctrine will take control, until all is a complete wreck as a testimony (v. 40).

The vessel goes to pieces. The lives of all are preserved. But it was not the vessel, it was the promise that preserved the travellers. They had been committed to the ship. But the ship breaks apart, and the promise is their ark in the waters again… What is of God Himself — His truth, His love, His promise — survives as fresh and perfect as ever. No one who trusts in Him, and in Him alone, will ever be put to shame.

The ship had to be run ashore, since it was impossible to save it, any more than its cargo. Making for the beach, they fell into a place where two seas met. The island now called Salmonetta, in St. Paul's Bay, seems to have made it. There they drove the ship aground (v. 41). Few other spots could have produced what is described here, because of the deep bank of mud there. The bow stuck in it and stayed fast, while the stern began to break up, exposed to the force of the waves.

The ship grounded in a place where two currents met, and the prow stuck fast and did not move. The force of the two opposing currents drove against the stern and broke it up.

Their only hope now was to run the ship on shore and so escape to land. They did not know the coast, but they spotted a bay with a smooth beach, and decided to run the ship aground there. So they cast away the anchors, untied the rudder bands, hoisted the mainsail to the wind, and made for the shore.

God was as good as His word, and He saved every soul. He kept His promise to the letter, not roughly and near enough, as people so often do. We may take Him at His word with complete certainty. Yet this does not mean we can become fatalistic and ignore ordinary sensible precautions. Our story shows this too… They did not fold their arms and do nothing, as fatalism would have decreed. They took the ordinary sensible precautions while trusting God's word.

True, the storm did not stop, and the stormy waves did not settle. God let the ship take her course. That was a small matter, for the only thing of real value on board was the lives of the men. These were kept safe. The ship was smashed to pieces, but not one life was lost. "And so it was that all were brought safely to land" (Acts 27:44).

The vessel goes to pieces. The lives of all are preserved. But it was not the vessel, but the promise, that preserved the travellers. Their lives had been entrusted to the ship. But the ship breaks apart, and the promise becomes their ark in the waters again. Every stewardship fails and proves unfaithful… but what is of God Himself — His truth, His love, His promise — survives as fresh and perfect as ever. No one who trusts in Him, and in Him alone, will ever be put to shame.

The ship on which Paul sailed went to pieces, but all hands came safe to land. It seems that this incident, recorded by God, has a prophetic bearing. Every organization of men will fail as a vessel of the truth, and all hopes placed in human strength will perish. But the work of God will remain, and every soul touched by His gracious Spirit and brought to Christ will come safely to land.

Returning to Acts 27, we notice that while the ship was anchored it was safe. But the next day they cast off the anchors into the sea, fell into a place where two seas met, and wrecked the ship. This shows us how important it is to be anchored, and how soon shipwreck follows once the anchors are gone.

If the prisoners were unchained to reach land they might escape, and their guards would be punished for carelessness. So the soldiers, to save themselves, advised putting the prisoners to death. To carry out that plan would have meant killing Paul too — Paul, who had been so helpful and encouraging.

The soldiers' plan was to kill the prisoners (v. 42). Under the severest penalties they were responsible not to let them go, as this book itself shows on more than one occasion. But the centurion, not so much out of pity for the rest as out of regard for Paul, stepped in to save him at any cost (v. 43). The word means "wishing," not merely "willing."

But God is faithful to His promise. The soldiers want to kill the prisoners so that none may escape. But the centurion, moved by all that had happened and guided by God, wants to save Paul. So he does not allow it. At his command, those who can swim throw themselves into the sea, while the others reach the shore on pieces of the ship. God paid this tribute of honour to His servant.

Again, the soldiers suggested killing the prisoners in case they escaped. But Julius, "wishing to save Paul, kept them from carrying out their plan." This was a thoughtful act by the centurion, and the whole Church may be thankful for it, as it may in the case of Claudius Lysias.

And according to the same promise, the ship goes to pieces. It is worth nothing, never to be used again. But the lives are spared. Not a hair of anyone's head perishes. Some swim, some float on planks, but all get their life. This keeps the promise that those who were in company with Rome's prisoner — God's witness and treasurer — should be safe.

What a thing it was to have been linked with Paul like this! All who were given by God to him were saved from shipwreck. And we can say that all given by God to Christ will certainly be saved. God never takes back His gifts.

A new danger threatened Paul, which the centurion promptly turned aside. If the prisoners were unchained to reach land they might escape, and their guards would be punished for carelessness. So the soldiers, to save themselves, advised putting the prisoners to death. Carrying that out would have swept Paul into the slaughter — Paul, who had been so helpful and encouraging. So the centurion rejected the proposal for Paul's sake.

The soldiers' counsel was to kill the prisoners (v. 42). Under the severest penalties they were responsible not to let them go, as this book itself shows on more than one occasion. But the centurion, not so much out of pity for the rest as through regard for Paul, stepped in to save him at all cost (v. 43). "Wishing" is the force of the word, not merely "willing." They all got safely ashore, as verse 44 tells us. The promise was made good, to God's glory, as a living God and faithful Creator.

We can notice that Paul had worked himself into the esteem of the centurion. This showed when the sailors tried to launch the boat and escape in it from the sinking vessel. Paul said to him, "Unless these men stay in the ship, you cannot be saved." They followed the advice at once. They cut the ropes of the boat and kept the seamen on board. Again, the soldiers suggested killing the prisoners in case they escaped. But "Julius, wishing to save Paul, kept them from carrying out their plan." The centurion acted with consideration here. For that, as with Claudius Lysias, the whole Church may be thankful.

But God is faithful to His promise. The soldiers want to kill the prisoners so that none may escape. But the centurion wishes to save Paul, and so he does not permit it. He was moved by all that had happened, and guided by God. At his command those who can swim throw themselves into the sea, while the others reach the shore on pieces of the ship. God paid this tribute of honour to His servant. He governs the winds and the seas. He brings them all through the storm, though the storm was their own fault. He does this to show how near the apostle stood to Himself. He saves them all, as Paul had foretold. The wisdom of man counted for nothing in the deliverance of the crew and the others. All had to give themselves up to God for salvation, and they were saved.

"There will be no loss of life among you," Paul had declared (v. 22). "Not a hair is to perish from the head of any of you" (v. 34), he had promised that very morning. It all came true. They reached the island. The roll could be called over, and no one was missing from the company that had left Fair Havens. What a thing it was to be linked with Paul like this! All whom God gave to him were saved from shipwreck. And we can say that all whom God gives to Christ will certainly be saved.

The soldiers' plan was to kill the prisoners (v. 42). If a prisoner escaped, the guards faced the harshest penalties, as this book itself shows more than once. But the centurion, not so much out of pity for the rest as out of regard for Paul, stepped in to save him at all cost (v. 43). "Wishing" is the force of the word, not just "willing." He ordered those who could swim to jump overboard and get to land. The rest followed, some on boards, some on parts of the ship as it broke up. They all got safely ashore, as verse 44 tells us. The promise was made good, to God's glory, as a living God and faithful Creator.

So a second time, because of Paul, the prisoners were kept from death... "There will be no loss of life among you," Paul had declared (22). "Not a hair is to perish from the head of any of you" (34), he had promised that very morning. It all came true. They reached the island and called the roll: no one was missing from the company that had left Fair Havens. What a thing it was to be linked with Paul like this! God had given them all to him, and all of them came safely through the shipwreck. And we can say that all given by God to Christ will certainly be saved.

The wisdom of man counted for nothing in the deliverance of the crew and the others. All had to give themselves up to God for salvation; and they were saved. Paul's word had blocked every way of avoiding it.

It was not the ship but the promise that preserved the travellers. They had been committed to the ship; but the ship breaks apart, and the promise becomes their ark in the waters again... Some swim, others float on planks. Some may be strong, and work their way more in the solitary strength of the Spirit. Others are weaker. They may hang on to fragments floating here and there, which invite the timid and the unskilled. But whether they swim or rest on the planks, all reach the shore, strong and weak together. They cannot perish, for the God of the promise holds them in His hand, and no wind or wave can drive them from it.

Paul's voyage to Rome gives us the history of the church as far as its earthly path goes... There was, however, an important difference between the ship and the people on board: the ship was lost, but all the people were saved... The waves may dash the corporate thing to pieces — everything connected with earth may vanish away, "but he that does the will of God abides forever."

Even though the vessel of testimony may seem to fall to pieces, all shall escape safely to land. Some will swim to shore; the rest will come "on planks or on pieces of the ship" (Acts 27:44). They will not find themselves among strangers there. Instead, all their fellow believers from every age will welcome them, and above all Him whose loving care had watched over all their way and whose grace will have safely brought them home.

True, the storm did not stop, and the waves did not grow calm. The ship was left to take her own course. That was a small matter; for the only thing of real value on board was the lives of the men. These were secured. The ship was dashed to pieces, but not a life was lost.