And when we got safe [to land] we then knew that the island was called Melita.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
But the barbarians shewed us no common kindness; for, having kindled a fire, they took us all in because of the rain that was falling and because of the cold.
The ship is gone, and two hundred and seventy-six soaking survivors stand on an unknown beach in the rain. What meets them is not plunder but a fire. Who were these islanders, and who moved them to act like this?
Luke's word for the islanders marks them out as speakers of another language, not as savages. One commentator clears away the insult the old word "barbarous" now carries:
The people are called "barbarous." This only means they were not Greek or Jewish, not the cultured classes. There is nothing insulting in the term.
A reference work shows where else that word turns up:
The word signifies "foreigner, alien": the Romans used it for any people who did not understand Latin or Greek. In Romans 1:14 such people stand in contrast to the Greeks. In 1 Corinthians 14:11, a person who hears another speak in a language he does not understand would count him a foreigner — and would be counted a foreigner by him.
The fire they built shows how far that kindness went:
The barbarians, or men of a foreign tongue, showed unusual philanthropy… They did not light just a "fire," but one so large that the word used is the one usually applied to a funeral pyre. Such a blaze was needed for a dripping crowd, with heavy rain falling and severe cold.
What makes the welcome remarkable is how many landed on the islanders at once:
Those two hundred and seventy-six men must have been wet and cold, considering the way they had been saved. Such a large company was thrown on the islanders all at once, yet they found the kindness of the islanders equal to the occasion.
The islanders could have stripped a helpless crowd. They did the opposite, and one writer traces that back to God:
The people of the island did not plunder the wrecked company. Instead they showed them much kindness and made them comfortable in the cold rain which fell… It was God who moved the hearts of these islanders to show such hospitality to the shipwrecked company for the sake of His servants.
The same care that had held the ship through the storm did not stop at the water's edge:
We still see the protecting hand of God stretched over Paul and his companions when they had landed on Malta. The inhabitants were "barbarians" in Roman eyes, yet they showed exceptional kindness to the shipwrecked party. Events were so overruled that they soon discovered one of these visitors was no ordinary person.
The word behind "kindness" here is philanthropy — love toward man. Scripture speaks that word of God only once, and that one place lifts it far above anything these islanders could have known:
We find the word used of people in Acts 28:2. But this is the only passage in Scripture where we hear of "philanthropy," or love of mankind, spoken of God our Saviour. Is that not worthy of inspiration? The philanthropy of God means His special affection toward man. As we shall see, He shows it in a way no creature could ever manage.
That link does not make human kindness worthless. It sets the standard for it:
Far from philanthropy being worthless, it is what every true Christian must have. He must be a follower of Christ, and have the spirit of Christ. Now, what did He do? Never could anyone show such love to man as Christ did. God was in all His thoughts, but He laid Himself out completely for the service of man.
- Foreigners. "Barbarian" points to an unfamiliar language, not a low character. The label tells us only that these islanders were neither Greek nor Roman.
- Fire. The word used is the word for a funeral pyre — a blaze big enough for nearly three hundred drenched people in the rain and cold.
- Force. God moved their hearts, so the islanders warmed a helpless company instead of robbing it. The same hand that steered the ship steered the welcome.
- Philanthropy. The word for their kindness is philanthropy, love toward man. Scripture speaks it of God just once — of God our Saviour.
- Follow. Christ laid Himself out completely for the service of man. So this love is not an extra for a Christian; it is the family likeness.
And Paul having gathered a [certain] quantity of sticks together in a bundle and laid [it] on the fire, a viper coming out from the heat seized his hand.
A ship has just broken apart. The soaked, freezing survivors have crawled ashore on Malta, where the islanders build them a fire. Into that scene of warmth and rescue comes a snake. The real question here is not about the snake. It is about what God is doing with the man it bites.
Paul had every reason to sit down. He had just come through a shipwreck. Instead he is out collecting firewood. One writer notes what that cost him — and what was still on his wrists.
Paul is active even then. The shipwreck and privations must have told on the great man of God physically, yet we see him going about gathering a bundle of sticks for the fire. This labour must have been difficult, since as a prisoner he wore a chain on his hands.
The striking thing is the gap between what Paul could do and the job he was doing. He shakes a venomous snake into the very fire he had helped to build. One writer sets that beside the risen Lord getting a meal ready on the shore.
The great apostle to the Gentiles would gather sticks to help make up the fire. And the Lord of prophets and apostles, even after He had risen from the dead, would get the meal ready on the sea shore! And yet what great power lay in their hands all the while. The apostle shakes a venomous creature into the very fire he was kindling... Oh, the beautiful, godlike condescension of real power!
The snake was not lying in the open. It hid in the very wood Paul picked up, cold and still, until the fire woke it. It came out "because of the heat" — warmth Paul himself had helped create.
The apostle, with his usual earnestness and lowly love, gathered a bundle of sticks near the spot and laid it on the fire. Then the heat roused a viper that had no doubt lain asleep until then in the neglected wood. Angered, it seized the hand of Paul. God ordered this, to make good the promise of the Lord Jesus (Mark 16:18), and as a sign to these kind people who did not know Him.
Some have argued the creature was harmless, since venomous snakes are not found on Malta today. Two answers are given in the commentary. The first is the islanders' own reaction: people who lived with these creatures knew exactly what they were watching for.
They all knew it was a venomous snake, and one native to the island. The local people thought his fate was sealed. He could not escape the poison, they thought, even if he somehow kept his life. They knew well what such a bite does, so they watched for its victim to swell up or fall down dead.
The second answer is that today's Malta proves nothing about the Malta of Paul's day.
We have no doubt it was a poisonous viper. Some critics deny this, because poisonous snakes are not found on the island of Malta. However, that is no proof that they did not exist there at that time.
One writer looks past the snake to the enemy behind it. The bite landed on the hand that had just been busy helping others.
We may be sure that Satan will oppose such a servant and such service. The concentrated fury of the enemy is seen in the viper as it fastens on the hand of Paul. Satan hated those hands; hands that remind us in their service of Christ will be hated by the enemy. But those hands had been busy in a service of lowliness and love to the brothers. The enemy's attack came to nothing in the very warmth his service had produced.
Paul was on this island as a prisoner, on a journey he had brought on himself by appealing to Caesar. That did not put him outside God's care.
God honours His servant on the island where he and his companions had been cast. He works miracles, and receives no harm from the viper which fastens itself to his hand. Paul had brought captivity on himself by his appeal to Caesar, but still God was with him... Far from abandoning him, He displays His grace and power to him most fully.
- Serving — Fresh from shipwreck and still in chains, Paul gathers firewood. No task was beneath the man God used most.
- Struck — The snake hid in the wood he carried, and the fire he built woke it. The attack came out of the very service he was giving.
- Shaken off — The islanders knew the creature well and expected him to swell up or drop dead. He shook it into the flames instead.
- Sign — Commentators read the escape as God verifying His own word (Mark 16:18) and marking Paul out as His servant before people who did not know Him.
- Sustained — Prisoner, shipwreck survivor, snake-bitten: at every step God stayed with him and showed His power through him.
And when the barbarians saw the beast hanging from his hand, they said to one another, This man is certainly a murderer, whom, [though] saved out of the sea, Nemesis has not allowed to live.
Paul and the others have just come ashore from a shipwreck on Melita, the island of Malta, and the people there have lit a fire for them. A snake then fastens on the hand of the man gathering sticks, and the islanders read the scene at once — and read it wrong.
Older translations call these people "barbarians," which sounds like an insult. The word carried no such sting.
The word means "foreigner, alien." The Romans used it for any people who did not understand Latin or Greek. In Romans 1:14 they stand in contrast to the Greeks. In 1 Corinthians 14:11, a person hears someone speak a language he does not understand. He would think that speaker a foreigner, and be thought one himself. Luke calls the inhabitants of Melita by this name.
The word behind "Justice" here is a legal one. It is also the root of a whole family of New Testament terms.
The Greek word dike carries the thought of a judicial sentence, or penalty. The New Testament translates it as vengeance or judgment. On its own it occurs only four times: judgment against Paul (Acts 25:15); vengeance, of Paul and the viper (Acts 28:4); the punishment of the unbeliever (2 Thessalonians 1:9), literally "shall suffer the penalty"; and Jude 7, "the vengeance" — literally "penalty" — "of eternal fire." Dike is the parent word of the group. It underlies every part of the righteousness credited to the believer… Christ has borne the penalty due to us. God has freely blessed us in Him and through Him, and has even made us righteous.
The islanders meant something else. To them this was not a principle but a person hunting a fugitive.
The ancients viewed Dike — that is, Justice — as a goddess.
One writer sets out their reasoning, and adds something they may have learned about the prisoner.
He had escaped drowning. Now the viper's bite would kill him. They had probably learned that he was a prisoner on his way to Rome, and so they jumped to this conclusion all the more readily.
The snake was no accident. The islanders' mistake was to do their arithmetic without God.
God ordered it, to verify the promise of the Lord Jesus (Mark 16:18), and as a sign to these kind islanders. It was all the more a sign because at first they quite mistook its meaning. They left God out, which is unbelief's habit. When they saw the dangerous creature hanging from his hand, they were sure he must be a murderer, escaped from the sea only to meet a just punishment… Little could they imagine that he was a man of God. He was a prisoner in foreign hands because of the deadly hatred of God's people, the Jews — and that hatred came from the good news of Christ he preached to non-Jews.
Soon the same crowd swings the other way and calls Paul a god.
The superstitious islanders put their own interpretation on this. But what they expected did not follow, so they changed their minds and jumped to the opposite conclusion. Superstition never comes to right conclusions.
The islanders were watching for a death. What they saw instead was God's answer about the man in chains.
God honours His servant on the island where the sea had cast him and his companions. He works miracles, and the viper that fastens on his hand does him no harm. Paul had brought captivity on himself by his appeal to Caesar, but God was still with him. He had to bear witness before Caesar… Far from abandoning him, He shows him His grace and power in full.
One writer looks at the hand itself, and at what it had been doing.
We may be sure that Satan will oppose such a servant and such service. We see the concentrated fury of the enemy in the viper as it fastens on Paul's hand. Satan hated those hands. The enemy hates hands whose service reminds us of Christ. But those hands had been busy in humble, loving service to fellow believers… and in the very warmth that his service had produced, the enemy's attack came to nothing.
- The word. "Justice" here translates dike, a legal word for a sentence or penalty. To the islanders it named a goddess chasing an escaped killer. The same word stands behind the penalty Christ bore for us.
- The verdict. A prisoner survives the sea, then a snake bites him. They passed sentence on the spot: murderer, and the snake is his executioner.
- The flaw. They read the event and left God out. That is unbelief's habit, and it is what made their verdict wrong.
- The reversal. Soon the same men called him a god. Superstition never comes to right conclusions, in either direction.
- The truth. They saw a condemned criminal. God honoured His servant, stayed with Paul in his chains, and kept him for the witness he still had to give.
*He* however, having shaken off the beast into the fire, felt no harm.
A shipwrecked crowd is drying off around a fire on Malta when a snake fastens on the hand of the prisoner who fetched the wood. The islanders wait for him to drop dead; he shakes it into the flames unharmed — luck, or God at work?
Everything here turns on the snake being deadly. Some object that Malta has no such snakes today. One writer answers from how the islanders reacted, then points past the snake to Satan's end:
We have no doubt it was a poisonous viper. Some critics deny this, arguing that poisonous snakes are not found on the island of Malta. But that is no proof that they did not exist there at that time. The people of the island expected Paul to fall down dead. If it had been a harmless snake, why would they expect that? God's power was shown on his behalf… The viper also reminds us of Satan and his end. As Paul threw the viper into the fire, so Satan will be thrown into the lake of fire.
One writer sees God's hand behind the timing, and traces the islanders' wrong verdict to a habit of mind:
It was ordered of God to confirm the promise of the Lord Jesus (Mark 16:18), and as a sign to the kind-hearted islanders. This was all the more so because at first they mistook its meaning by leaving God out, as unbelief always does. For when they saw the dangerous creature hanging from his hand, they were sure he must be a murderer. He had escaped the sea, they thought, only to meet the punishment he deserved.
The bite landed on hands that had been busy serving:
We can be sure that Satan will oppose such a servant and such service. The enemy's concentrated fury is seen in the viper as it fastens on Paul's hand. Satan hated those hands; hands whose service reminds us of Christ will be hated by the enemy. But those hands had been busy in lowly, loving service to fellow believers, following again the example of his Lord in John 13. The enemy's attack came to nothing in the very warmth that his service had created.
The islanders judged Paul twice, and both times they guessed without knowing what God had promised:
Seeing it fastened to his hand, they formed an unfavourable opinion of the Apostle… But Paul shook off the venomous creature and felt no pain. They changed their minds just as quickly, and jumped to the conclusion that he must be a god. They were completely wrong, of course, and knew nothing of our Lord's promise to His disciples (Mark 16:18). Yet they were unbiased witnesses to the Lord's faithfulness to His word… This was not Vengeance chasing down its victim. It was God confirming that Paul was His servant.
Another writer sets Paul's calm beside the islanders' swing:
Paul, however, paid no more attention to it than to shake the creature off into the fire. When it became clear that the snake had done him no harm, the islanders went to the opposite extreme and decided that Paul was a god. This shows how unreliable and foolish men's superstitions are.
Paul came to Malta as a prisoner, and by his own appeal to Caesar. That did not lower his standing with God:
God honours His servant on the island where he and his companions had been washed up. He works miracles, and takes no hurt from the viper that fastens on his hand. Paul had brought captivity on himself by his appeal to Caesar, but God was still with him. He had to bear witness before Caesar… Far from abandoning him, God displays His grace and power to him most fully.
The escape fits a promise the Lord made to those who carry His message:
In their work they would meet the hostility of a world under the power of Satan, that old serpent. But He who was in them would be greater than he who was in the world (1 John 4:4). See the case of literal protection in the incident of Paul and the viper (Acts 28:1-6). Further, the enemies of the gospel would stop at nothing to take the preachers' lives. But the Lord promised they would be safe until their hour had come and their work was finished. This held even when enemies used the most subtle means, such as poison.
- Serving hands. The bite came while Paul was gathering firewood for the fire; the enemy struck at hands busy in lowly, loving service.
- God's order. God ordered the moment. It confirmed the Lord's promise in Mark 16:18 and gave the islanders a sign.
- Real danger. The islanders expected Paul to fall down dead. That expectation shows the snake was poisonous, and God's power kept him unharmed.
- Man's verdict. Murderer, then god — unbelief leaves God out and lands wide of the truth both times.
- God's witness. The end was not Vengeance catching a criminal but God owning His servant — and the viper in the flames pictures Satan's own end in the lake of fire.
But *they* expected that he would have swollen or fallen down suddenly dead. But when they had expected a long time and saw nothing unusual happen to him, changing their opinion, they said he was a god.
Paul has just survived a shipwreck, and a snake from the fire has fastened on his hand. He shakes it off unharmed, and the crowd that called him a murderer now calls him a god.
They were not guessing at a harmless grass snake. Commentators point out that the crowd's own reaction is the best evidence of what the creature was. Their long watch ended in a second verdict as wrong as the first.
They watched to see its victim swell or fall down dead. To their surprise, neither happened... They changed their minds just as quickly and jumped to the conclusion that he must be a god. We know they were all wrong... Yet they were unbiased witnesses of the faithfulness of the Lord to His word. That it was a venomous snake there can be no doubt. What the islanders expected, and their surprise at the result, prove it... But instead of Vengeance chasing its victim, this was God showing that Paul was His servant.
Their reasoning followed familiar lines. People of that time had a god or a story ready for every event.
When the scriptures were written, the public mind was full of these myths and gods... When Paul healed a crippled man, they were going to offer him sacrifice. Because Barnabas kept a dignified silence, they took him for the god Jupiter. Because Paul spoke with fervour, they took him for Mercury. If a viper stung him, Nemesis — vengeance — would not let him live. When he received no harm, they changed their minds and said he was a god.
The same men gave two opposite verdicts, and neither came near the truth about the man in front of them.
But he shook off the serpent into the fire and suffered nothing unusual. They looked long in vain for either violent swelling or sudden collapse. Then everything changed, and they called him a god. Such is the worth of human opinion outside its own sphere. Little could they imagine that he was a man of God, a prisoner in pagan hands because of the deadly hatred of God's own people, the Jews — and really because of the good news of Christ he preached to non-Jews... Of one thing we may be sure: the natural man is here always astray.
Their mistake had one root. They read the event and left God out:
God ordered the bite to verify the promise of the Lord Jesus (Mark 16:18), and as a sign to these kind islanders who did not know Him. It was all the more a sign because at first they mistook its meaning. They left God out, as unbelief usually does.
Behind both verdicts stood a simpler fact. God kept His servant alive because He still had work for him to do.
God honours His servant on the island where he and his companions had been cast. Paul works miracles, and receives no hurt from the viper that fastens on his hand. Paul had brought captivity on himself by his appeal to Caesar, but still God was with him. It was necessary that he should bear witness before Caesar... Far from abandoning him, He displays His grace and power to him most fully.
One writer sees a picture in what became of the snake:
God showed His power on Paul's behalf. It was a fulfilment of the promise in Mark 16:18: "they will pick up serpents with their hands... it will not hurt them." The viper also reminds us of Satan and his fate. As Paul threw the viper into the fire, so Satan will be thrown into the lake of fire.
Some today claim this promise for themselves. One writer points out which half of it they leave alone.
They emphasise the speaking with tongues and the divine healing. They say little about casting out demons, and still less about picking up serpents and drinking poison. These last two even the most enthusiastic Pentecostalist is not eager to put to the test.
- Real venom. The islanders knew the local snakes. They waited for swelling or sudden death, and that expectation proves the bite was deadly.
- Real rescue. Paul shook the creature into the fire and felt nothing. Christ had promised His servants would pick up serpents and not be hurt.
- Wrong twice. First a murderer hunted down by Vengeance, then a god. Same crowd, opposite verdicts, both wide of the mark. Unbelief reads events with God left out.
- Right once. This was not vengeance chasing its victim. It was God marking Paul out as His servant, and the startled onlookers became unbiased witnesses to it.
- Kept for a purpose. Paul had to testify before Caesar, so no sea and no snake could end him early. The sign served that mission. It was never a technique for others to test.
Now in the country surrounding that place were the lands belonging to the chief man of the island, by name Publius, who received us and gave [us] hospitality three days in a very friendly way.
Paul lands on Malta as a shipwrecked prisoner, and the first door open to him belongs to the leading man of the island. Who arranged that landing, and what can a prisoner in chains give the man who takes him in?
Paul had lost everything in the storm. Yet he comes ashore beside the lands of the island's leading citizen. One writer sees God standing by a servant who had brought his own chains on himself.
God honours His servant on the island where he and his companions had been cast. He works miracles, and receives no harm from the viper which fastens itself on his hand. Paul had brought captivity on himself by his appeal to Caesar, but still God was with him. It was necessary that he should bear witness before Caesar... Far from abandoning him, He displays His grace and power to him most fully.
These words are not praise for how well Publius was liked. They were his official title, and the writer below simply calls him the island's governor.
From the shore where they had gathered at first, we are next taken to the house of Publius, called the chief man of the island. This was his official designation — that is, First or Chief of the Meliteans. The islanders had been kind. The governor was kind too. He had lands near that bay, and he received them and entertained them courteously.
Luke uses one word for the kindness of the centurion Julius earlier in the voyage, and another word for Publius on Melita — the island now called Malta. Each word suits the man.
It may be worth pointing out here that "courteously" is a fitting word in both places. It is used of Julius the Roman centurion (philanthropos, better "kindly") in Acts 27:3, and of Publius the chief man of Melita (philophronos) in Acts 28:7.
Publius gives three days of lodging to a party of strangers. What he gets back is his father's health — and for Paul and his companions, three months of relief after two weeks of terror at sea.
The chief man of the island took a kindly interest in them in their need. So Paul was able to repay him by prayer and the healing of his father. We do not read of any testimony that Paul gave. Yet his praying must have shown everyone that the healing power he used was not his own but connected with God... In the providence of God, all this led to a time of comfort after two weeks of terrible testing. It even became a time of honour, and it lasted three months. The apostle has put on record, "I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound" (Phil. 4:12). These three months proved to be a time of abounding.
Paul and Luke accepted what the islanders offered, though they had asked for nothing. There are two dangers here, not one.
Paul and Luke did not refuse their attention and their kind gifts, though they sought nothing from them. Indeed it matters greatly that the Christian... should give a simple and true testimony. The gospel, the grace and truth of Christ, has everything to give. It is never there to gain what self seeks in this world. God is a Giver Himself... On the other hand, a narrow, hard and unappreciative heart, where kindness is meant, is very far from the ways of Christ.
Three months on Malta end in honours for Paul, and in silence about any convert. One writer weighs that silence:
The people honoured them with many honours. Yet despite these pleasant relationships, and despite the outward blessing of healing, there is no record of any conversions to the Lord Jesus.
Another writer turns from the healed body to the soul, and to where the responsibility now lies:
He was the chief man of the island of Malta... And He who can cure the suffering body can also save the guilty soul. "God is love." Happy is that servant of Christ, whether free of foot or bound of hand, who could speak and act for God in front of such men! These men held places of power and dignity in their day. His the honour, theirs the responsibility.
- Placed — The wreck left Paul beside the governor's own lands. Writers see God's care behind a landing that looked like chance.
- Titled — "The chief man" was Publius's official rank on Malta, not a loose description. Luke even picks a word for his welcome that suits a courteous official.
- Given — Three days of lodging opened the door to healing for Publius's father. The host who gave first received far more.
- Guarded — Paul accepted the islanders' kindness but sought nothing from them. The gospel comes to give, never to gain.
- Unanswered — The islanders paid Paul many honours, yet no conversion is recorded. Their kindness was real; the responsibility for what they saw stayed theirs.
And it happened that the father of Publius lay ill of fever and dysentery; to whom Paul entered in, and having prayed and laid his hands on him cured him.
Paul lands on Malta as a shipwrecked prisoner, and the island's leading man takes him in. Within three days the host's own father is dangerously ill — and the prisoner prays before he heals.
Two small details are easy to miss here. One writer notes the standing of Publius and the exact medical word Luke uses:
More than one ancient inscription gives good reason to treat "the first," or "chief," as a title, not a vague description. "Fever" is in the Greek plural, being a sickness of repeated attacks. No writer in either the Old or New Testament uses so much medical vocabulary as Luke.
The second illness in the verse was no small thing:
Dysentery, one of the worst diseases in the East, always attended with fever.
Paul prays before he lays a hand on the sick man. Luke records no sermon on Malta, yet the islanders still learned something:
The chief man of the island took a kindly interest in them in their need. So Paul was able to repay him by prayer and by healing his father. We do not read of any testimony that Paul gave. Yet his praying must have shown everyone that the healing power he used was not his own. It was connected with God.
Publius opened his house to a crowd of shipwrecked strangers. The healing that followed reads as an answer to that welcome:
It is wonderful, and yet not wonderful, how God cared for His servant. The chief man of the island was named Publius. He lived in the part where the shipwrecked sailors and prisoners had landed. He welcomed Paul, Luke and Aristarchus kindly, and hosted them for three days. But God will be no man's debtor.
News of the healing spread, and the sick came from all over the island. Nobody was turned away. Paul and Luke then took the gifts the islanders pressed on them, which raises a question about what a servant of Christ should want:
Here we see gracious healing power attached to the Lord's name, and no self-importance in the apostle. He prayed and laid his hands on the sick man. The healing of one so prominent caught everyone's attention. Many others on the island came with their sicknesses and were cured as well, for grace is no respecter of persons. Paul and Luke did not refuse their attentions and kind offerings, though they certainly sought nothing from them. The Christian should value even a cup of cold water given in the name of a disciple, just as our Father does. But it matters above all that he gives a simple and true testimony: the gospel, the grace and truth of Christ, has everything to give. It is never there to gain what self wants in this world.
Why heal at all? One writer reads such miracles as samples of a power still to come:
The signs of Christianity are kind by their very nature. They are samples of the power that in the age to come will banish the evil one and drive away the dreadful effects of sin. Meanwhile, in honour of the One whom men crucified and God has now exalted in heaven, that power was displayed wherever it seemed fitting — pity poured out on suffering man. So another of the signs promised to those who believe was soon added: "they will lay their hands on the sick, and they will recover" (Mark 16:18).
A healed man is not yet a saved man, and the cure was meant to lead somewhere:
By this fitting act of praying he brought the power and mercy of God into the presence of this "chief" man. Surely the healing touch of divine pity might well urge the healed man to seek a saving knowledge of the blessed Healer. It is the goodness of God that leads to repentance (Romans 2:4). And He who can cure the suffering body can also save the guilty soul.
The man doing the healing is himself under guard, on his way to stand before Caesar. One writer traces both how Paul got there and who stayed with him:
God honours His servant on the island where he and his companions had been cast. He works miracles, and takes no harm from the viper that fastens on his hand. Paul had brought captivity on himself by his appeal to Caesar, but God was still with him. It was necessary that he should bear witness before Caesar. Far from abandoning him, God displays His grace and power to him most fully.
- Kindness — Publius opens his home to shipwrecked strangers. God will be no man's debtor, and He repays him within three days.
- Prayer — Paul prays before he heals, and that single act tells the whole island the power is God's, not his.
- Grace — the cure reaches the chief man's father first, then everyone else who came, for grace is no respecter of persons.
- Purpose — the healing previews a coming age and points beyond itself: He who cures the suffering body can also save the guilty soul.
- Presence — Paul's own appeal to Caesar made him a prisoner, yet God stayed with him. The chain never stopped the blessing.
But this having taken place, the rest also who had sicknesses in the island came and were healed
Paul reaches Malta as a prisoner from a wrecked ship, and within days the whole island is bringing him its sick. Where did that power come from? What did it do? And why does Luke record so much healing and so little preaching?
The healing began in the home of the island's leading man and did not stay there. Because news travelled fast across a small place, everyone who needed help had time to come.
The report of this miracle soon spread, and the rest of the sick on the island came and were healed. Malta is only seventeen and a quarter miles long and nine and a quarter miles wide. Its area is about ninety-five square miles, roughly two-thirds the size of the Isle of Wight. So we can easily understand that during their stay of three months there was time for the welcome news of Paul's powers to spread across the whole island, and for people in need to benefit from them. The islanders could tell of one healing after another — not merely some relief, but the full removal of suffering.
Before Paul laid hands on anyone, he prayed. That order mattered, because it told every watcher whose power was at work.
This man's father fell seriously ill, and Paul went to heal him. But when he entered the house, he first prayed and then healed. That was a beautiful testimony to the true source of healing power, and a demonstration of it.
The islanders drew the right conclusion and acted on it.
We do not read of any testimony that Paul gave. Yet his praying must have shown everyone that the healing power he used was not his own. It was connected with God. The islanders found that the power of God was among them. They were quick to seek it for their bodies, and seeking, they found it.
The first man healed was the father of the island's chief. Those who came after him had no such standing, and it made no difference.
Here we have the gracious healing power attached to the Lord's name, with no show of self-importance in the apostle. The healing of so prominent a man caught everyone's attention. Many others on the island came with their sicknesses, and they were cured too, for grace shows no favourites.
Commentators link this scene to a promise the Lord gave at the end of Mark's Gospel.
There, too, we see how truly the power of God is with him. And Paul shows that no word of the Lord is in vain: he fulfils one of the special promises in the disputed verses at the end of Mark.
Another writer describes what those promised signs were to do:
With respect to the power of the enemy, shown in doing harm, the venom of serpents and poisons should have no effect on them, and diseases should yield to their authority. In a word, it should be the overthrow of the power of the enemy over man, and the proclamation of grace to all people.
Luke records no sermon and no converts on Malta. Commentators notice the silence and read it plainly.
Despite the pleasant relationships seen here, and the outward blessing of healing, there is no record of anyone being converted to the Lord Jesus. The people did honour them with many honours, and supplied the things they needed after the shipwreck.
Still, the kindness shown to sick bodies carried an appeal beyond the body.
Surely the healing touch of divine pity might well urge those who were healed to seek a saving knowledge of the blessed Healer. For it is the goodness of God that leads to repentance (Rom. 2:4). And He who can cure the suffering body can also save the guilty soul.
Two weeks of terrible testing at sea lay just behind them. The same God who carried them through turned the island into a place of rest.
All this, in the providence of God, led to a time of comfort after two weeks of terrible testing. It even led to a time of honour, and it lasted for three months. The Apostle has put on record, "I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound" (Phil. 4:12). These three months proved to be a time of abounding.
- Storm — God's providence stood behind the wreck: two weeks of terrible testing became three months of comfort and honour.
- Prayer — Paul prayed before he laid on hands, so no one could mistake the power for his own.
- Spread — one healing in the chief man's house drew the sick from all over the island, for grace shows no favourites.
- Sign — the viper and the healings keep a promise from the end of Mark: the enemy's power over man is overthrown, and grace is proclaimed to all.
- Silence — bodies were healed and honours given, yet no conversion is recorded. God's goodness leads to repentance; here the outcome is left untold.
who also honoured us with many honours, and on our leaving they made presents to us of what should minister to our wants.
Paul's shipwrecked party spent three months on Malta. Why did the islanders load them with gifts, and why did Paul accept them?
One commentator weighs the word translated "honored" in this verse. He finds respect rather than wages, and two separate kindnesses:
There can be no fair doubt that the English translation is right: salary or pay is not the main idea here, nor even the true one — the idea is "honour."… Acts 28:10 seems to distinguish the attentions paid during the stay on Malta from the supplies given as they left.
Paul neither turned the islanders away nor angled for anything. The same writer sets two dangers side by side:
Paul and Luke did not refuse their attentions and kind gifts, though they certainly sought nothing from them. Indeed it matters above everything that the Christian should give a simple and true testimony that the gospel, the grace and truth of Christ, has everything to give. It is never there to gain what self wants in this world — and this while valuing, as our Father does, even a cup of cold water given in the name of a disciple. God is a Giver Himself, the Giver of the best and indeed of all good, and He loves His own to keep up the family character in this as in everything else. On the other hand, it is very far from the ways of Christ to hold a narrow, hard and unappreciative heart when kindness is meant.
The honours did not appear out of nowhere. One writer traces them back to a first act of hospitality:
It is wonderful, and yet not wonderful, how God cared for His servant. The chief man of the island, named Publius, lived in the part where the shipwrecked sailors and prisoners had come ashore. He welcomed Paul, Luke and Aristarchus warmly, and hosted them for three days. But God will be no man's debtor. Publius' father lay sick with a fever and dysentery. Paul went into the sick room, prayed with the sick man, laid his hands on him, and healed him. As the news spread, others on the island who were ill came and were healed. When the time came to leave the island, they honoured them in many ways and loaded them with the things they needed.
Paul prayed before he healed. One writer weighs why the order matters:
This man's father fell seriously ill, and Paul went to heal him. But when he entered the house, he first prayed and then healed. That is a beautiful testimony to the true source of healing power, and a demonstration of it.
Set against the storm that came just before it, this verse reads as relief. A prisoner who had lost everything at sea now leaves with his needs supplied:
All this, in the providence of God, led to a time of comfort after two weeks of terrible testing. It even led to a time of honour, and it lasted for three months. The Apostle has put on record, "I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound" (Philippians 4:12). These three months proved to be a time of abounding.
One writer notes what the chapter does not say:
Despite the pleasant relationships seen here, and the outward blessing of healing, there is no record of anyone turning to the Lord Jesus. The people honoured them with many honours and supplied the needs their shipwreck had caused.
Yet the healing itself made an appeal to those who received it:
Surely the healing touch of God's pity gave the healed every reason to seek a saving knowledge of the blessed Healer, for it is the goodness of God that leads to repentance (Romans 2:4). And He who can cure the suffering body can also save the guilty soul.
- Kindness starts it. Publius opened his house to shipwrecked strangers. God repaid him by healing his own father, for He "will be no man's debtor."
- Prayer names the source. Paul prayed before he laid hands on the sick, showing that the power was God's and not his own.
- Honour, not wages. Their gifts were marks of respect, not payment. The care shown during the stay and the supplies given at departure were two separate kindnesses.
- Give, never gain. Paul took the gifts but sought nothing. The gospel comes to give, and a cold heart toward kindness is as wrong as a grasping one.
- Abounding, yet unrecorded. Two weeks of terror gave way to three months of honour. Yet Luke records no one turning to Christ — kindness received still leaves the receiver to seek the Healer Himself.
And after three months we sailed in a ship which had wintered in the island, an Alexandrian, with [the] Dioscuri for its ensign.
After three months on Malta the sailing season opened again, and Paul boarded a second ship from Alexandria — one that had waited out the winter in the same harbour. Luke even records its figurehead, the twin pagan sea-gods, and that small detail has drawn wide comment.
This ship is the counterpart of the one the storm destroyed. One writer traces the difference between them back to a warning the crew ignored.
In the early spring they took ship again. This ship was also from Alexandria, and it had escaped the storm. That storm wrecked their former ship, because the master and crew had ignored the apostle's warning. We do not hear of preaching, though we may be sure that the grace of Christ and the love of souls did not sleep in the hearts of His servants. But we see the place given to them, and to Paul in particular, by their past experience. It rose more and more as God saw fit to use each occasion where man's wisdom or power was of no use.
The name carved on the ship's bow came from Greek mythology.
The word Διόσκουροι means "young men, or sons of Zeus," their names being Castor and Pollux according to heathen mythology. People believed they were the guardians of sailing. Sailors sometimes carved a rough image of them on the bows of ships.
So Paul sailed the last stretch to Rome under the image of gods that sailors trusted to keep them safe.
Some writers treat the ship as a picture of the church, and see a warning in its idolatrous figurehead.
The next ship they board is no improvement in this respect either, being also of Alexandria, and carrying the idolatrous insignia "Castor and Pollux." Christianity, mixing with the world, will certainly find itself also mixed with idolatry.
But commentators differ over how far to press such pictures. One writer warns against them:
However, such an application needs caution. It is easy to make fanciful and far-fetched allegorical applications... We shall not attempt to look for 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.
The figurehead is one of many small sailing details in Luke's account of this voyage. Together they are worth more than most readers realise.
Here we have more real information about an ancient merchant ship than perhaps all the surviving works of Greek and Roman authors give. It comes to us quite simply, in passing. What reader of any version, even a believer, would guess it? Every scholar ought to know it.
The kindness shown on Malta and the gifts loaded on board did not change Paul's position.
The new ship is loaded with gifts that thankfully acknowledge the benefits received. Yet Paul is after all still a prisoner, and the vessel's head, at much less distance than before, is pointing towards Rome!
That direction matched a promise the Lord had already given Paul.
Paul was travelling towards Rome in line with the Lord's words in Acts 23:11: "so you must testify also in Rome"! With these words ringing in his ears, Paul moved confidently.
- Waited. The ship that wintered on the island came through safely. The ship whose crew ignored Paul's warning did not. Listening to God's servant made the difference.
- Carved. The sign was the Dioskouroi — Castor and Pollux, "sons of Zeus." Sailors trusted them to guard ships and carved them on the bows.
- Mixed. Some writers see in that emblem a picture of Christianity blending with the world and picking up its idolatry. Another warns against pressing such pictures, and keeps the focus on the prisoner himself.
- Observed. Luke's passing sea details tell us more about an ancient merchant ship than nearly all surviving Greek and Roman writing.
- Pointed. Honoured on Malta yet still a prisoner, Paul sails on under pagan names toward Rome, where the Lord had said he would testify.