Through the Storms
Notes
Transcript
And when it was decided that we should sail for Italy, they delivered Paul and some other prisoners to a centurion of the Augustan Cohort named Julius. And embarking in a ship of Adramyttium, which was about to sail to the ports along the coast of Asia, we put to sea, accompanied by Aristarchus, a Macedonian from Thessalonica. The next day we put in at Sidon. And Julius treated Paul kindly and gave him leave to go to his friends and be cared for. And putting out to sea from there we sailed under the lee of Cyprus, because the winds were against us. And when we had sailed across the open sea along the coast of Cilicia and Pamphylia, we came to Myra in Lycia. There the centurion found a ship of Alexandria sailing for Italy and put us on board. We sailed slowly for a number of days and arrived with difficulty off Cnidus, and as the wind did not allow us to go farther, we sailed under the lee of Crete off Salmone. Coasting along it with difficulty, we came to a place called Fair Havens, near which was the city of Lasea.
Since much time had passed, and the voyage was now dangerous because even the Fast was already over, Paul advised them, saying, “Sirs, I perceive that the voyage will be with injury and much loss, not only of the cargo and the ship, but also of our lives.” But the centurion paid more attention to the pilot and to the owner of the ship than to what Paul said. And because the harbor was not suitable to spend the winter in, the majority decided to put out to sea from there, on the chance that somehow they could reach Phoenix, a harbor of Crete, facing both southwest and northwest, and spend the winter there.
Now when the south wind blew gently, supposing that they had obtained their purpose, they weighed anchor and sailed along Crete, close to the shore. But soon a tempestuous wind, called the northeaster, struck down from the land. And when the ship was caught and could not face the wind, we gave way to it and were driven along. Running under the lee of a small island called Cauda, we managed with difficulty to secure the ship’s boat. After hoisting it up, they used supports to undergird the ship. Then, fearing that they would run aground on the Syrtis, they lowered the gear, and thus they were driven along. Since we were violently storm-tossed, they began the next day to jettison the cargo. And on the third day they threw the ship’s tackle overboard with their own hands. When neither sun nor stars appeared for many days, and no small tempest lay on us, all hope of our being saved was at last abandoned.
Since they had been without food for a long time, Paul stood up among them and said, “Men, you should have listened to me and not have set sail from Crete and incurred this injury and loss. Yet now I urge you to take heart, for there will be no loss of life among you, but only of the ship. For this very night there stood before me an angel of the God to whom I belong and whom I worship, and he said, ‘Do not be afraid, Paul; you must stand before Caesar. And behold, God has granted you all those who sail with you.’ So take heart, men, for I have faith in God that it will be exactly as I have been told. But we must run aground on some island.”
When the fourteenth night had come, as we were being driven across the Adriatic Sea, about midnight the sailors suspected that they were nearing land. So they took a sounding and found twenty fathoms. A little farther on they took a sounding again and found fifteen fathoms. And fearing that we might run on the rocks, they let down four anchors from the stern and prayed for day to come. And as the sailors were seeking to escape from the ship, and had lowered the ship’s boat into the sea under pretense of laying out anchors from the bow, Paul said to the centurion and the soldiers, “Unless these men stay in the ship, you cannot be saved.” Then the soldiers cut away the ropes of the ship’s boat and let it go.
As day was about to dawn, Paul urged them all to take some food, saying, “Today is the fourteenth day that you have continued in suspense and without food, having taken nothing. Therefore I urge you to take some food. For it will give you strength, for not a hair is to perish from the head of any of you.” And when he had said these things, he took bread, and giving thanks to God in the presence of all he broke it and began to eat. Then they all were encouraged and ate some food themselves. (We were in all 276 persons in the ship.) And when they had eaten enough, they lightened the ship, throwing out the wheat into the sea.
Now when it was day, they did not recognize the land, but they noticed a bay with a beach, on which they planned if possible to run the ship ashore. So they cast off the anchors and left them in the sea, at the same time loosening the ropes that tied the rudders. Then hoisting the foresail to the wind they made for the beach. But striking a reef, they ran the vessel aground. The bow stuck and remained immovable, and the stern was being broken up by the surf. The soldiers’ plan was to kill the prisoners, lest any should swim away and escape. But the centurion, wishing to save Paul, kept them from carrying out their plan. He ordered those who could swim to jump overboard first and make for the land, and the rest on planks or on pieces of the ship. And so it was that all were brought safely to land.
Today we are getting on a boat, at least a couple boats actually, joining Paul on his journey to Rome. We’re not going to make it all the way there today, though. On the map above is the track he sailed. He left Caesarea, the black star, and headed north and then west to sail between Cyprus and what we know as Turkey. They kept going to Crete, south of modern-day Greece, and then continued west towards Italy. You can hopefully see the shape of the boot that Italy is often identified by. It kicks into Sicily, and there is a little island beneath there, about 50 miles to the south, the yellow star for the island of Malta. Malta is tiny; it is only 122 square miles, but that’s where Paul and his companions literally washed up at the end of this chapter. As we read this passage, it almost feels like a journal of what Paul and his companions were going through.
Brothers and sisters in Christ, I am by no means an expert in boating or sailing, especially compared to some of you. I’m learning more and more how to operate and function our old 16’ Smoker Craft fishing boat, but that’s nothing compared to however large a ship this last one must have been. A ship capable of sailing across the Mediterranean Sea with 276 souls on board along with grain, cargo, anchors, and tackle. When I imagine a boat that size, my imagination exaggerates and I think of the Titanic. I think of all that it took to run that ship, all the people on board, all sorts of modern conveniences for its day, and it still met a tragic end on calm seas after hitting an iceberg.
On Facebook this week, I saw a couple different stories shared about the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald on November 10, 1975. I had heard the name of that ship before, but I never learned about it or looked into it. Without considering what I was preaching on this week, I decided to read up a bit. The Fitzgerald was a 729 foot long, 75 foot across ore freighter. Most of you probably know the story, maybe even remember it well. It left Superior on November 9 to make a last run across Lake Superior, but a storm was brewing in the Central Plains. I imagine not too different from what we had this week. The ship made it fine through the first night, but it was into the afternoon of the next day, that they realized this was not a normal storm even by November’s standards. Its described to have been like a hurricane, and that evening, just about all the way across to Sault Ste. Marie, she was lost at sea with 29 people on board.
That was only 14 years before I was born. I know the technology wasn’t as great as it is today, 45 years later, but they still had radar, sonar, radios. If all else failed, the Coast Guard could be and was called out after the ship disappeared from radar. This ship Paul was on wasn’t trying to go that far. They wanted to get from one side of the island of Crete to the other for winter. This wasn’t a huge move or expected to be a long journey. Yet winds and storms turned so terrible they were blown hundreds of miles away and ended up shipwrecked. This was before all the technology and safety that boaters and sailors depend on in modern times. When Luke wrote in verse 20, “…we finally gave up all hope of being saved,” you know it was dire. There was no real hope left.
So what did Paul do? “I told you so, guys! We should have stayed put. It was too late to sail out. This is gonna cost you dearly, including the ship—it’s done. But at least we’ll all survive, if we stay put. My God told me so last night.” I imagine that’s probably the last thing anyone in charge of that boat wanted to hear, from the captain to the owner if he was still on board to the centurion—especially coming from a prisoner, no matter how much liberty they’d given Paul. Yet Luke doesn’t record their response. Maybe they just took his words for what they were worth—they probably felt like they were in the middle of the biggest ocean—“Whatever, Paul.” After two weeks of that, though, when they seemed to be nearing land in the middle of the night, “Well, maybe Paul was right.” When they got to the unknown shore, to Malta, “Paul was right!”
It’s easy to read this account for its intrigue. What’s going to happen next? How will this end? Paul’s supposed to get to Rome—he’s got to make it, right? This account got written, so obviously, it’s got to end somewhat okay. It’s easy to just read it as Paul’s story. He knew the wise decision from his sailing experience. He spoke up. He encouraged everyone to eat. He told them, “It’s going to be a rough landing, but we’ll get to land.”
Just like we did last week, I want to encourage us to think about God and his role in this. To be clear, we don’t hear a lot about God. We don’t see his explicit actions the way we do in Jonah where we read, “…The LORD sent a great wind on the sea…” or, “…The LORD provided a great fish to swallow Jonah…And the LORD commanded the fish, and it vomited Jonah onto dry land.” There’s none of that. We see a terrible but expected-for-this-part-of-the-season storm. We don’t see Paul saying, “‘…Throw me in…I know that it is my fault that this great storm has come upon you.’” But we also don’t see him acting like Jesus when he and his disciples were caught in a storm: Paul didn’t “rebuke the wind [or tell] the waves, ‘Quiet! Be still!’” He may have acted in the way they should have, though, that he had faith and was not “‘…so afraid…’”
What we do find recorded about God, though, is in verses 23 through 25, “‘…An angel of the God whose I am and whom I serve stood beside me and said, “Do not be afraid, Paul. You must stand trial before Caesar; and God has graciously given you the lives of all who sail with you.”’” Paul’s able to say, “‘I have faith in God that it will happen just as he told me.’” He told and showed that in verses 34 and 35, “‘…Not one of you will lose a single hair from his head.’ After he said this, he took some bread and gave thanks to God in front of them all.”
So, God through this angel was present with Paul and spoke or revealed things to him. God declared his sovereignty in the midst of uncertainty and hopelessness that he would preserve the lives of everyone on board. Furthermore, despite all that had happened, God deserved thanks. What was God’s role: he was present, he was sovereign, and he deserved thanks.
As we’ve worked our way through the book of Acts, we’ve seen tumultuous times again and again for Christians—for individuals, whether leaders, new believers, or the average person. We’ve heard about not just unpleasant circumstances, but painful and life-threatening situations, including death. Yet, not just here in the shipwreck, but through all of those, these things apply. Even if Christians were tortured and killed, that would not mean God was not present, that he was not sovereign, that he did not deserve thanks. Had he permitted those things to happen? Yes. Was he the one who executed them? Not at all. Freedom from pain and sickness and death were not seen as signs of whether God was present, sovereign, and deserving thanks—that he is good.
Isn’t that the thread throughout all of Scripture and all of history? Whether we’re looking at the fall of Adam and Eve or the flood or the decline of Israel to the point that they repeatedly needed judges and wanted kings and had prophets sent to them and eventually were taken captive and scattered—isn’t God always good? Where was he at? He was with them. What was he doing? Whatever he chose and what carried on his redemptive plan, showing undeserved grace. What was humanity typically doing? Humanity in all those terrible situations chose sin. They chose the wrong way, to go against God, to put themselves in the position of God.
God didn’t wait at the crossroads of every sinful decision and stop them from sinning. He didn’t allow them to sin, but then pop up and immediately grab them and put them on his track as if their choices and experiences didn’t matter. No, the God who reveals himself across Scripture, while he may intervene, as we’ve previously looked at, does allow people to go through the storms of life with sin and its effects. That people suffer, that they fall, that they are tempted is not God’s fault; it is our nature. Yet God is always present, always sovereign, and always deserving of thanks.
What about God in his role in the trials and lived experiences of today? Our second point: how does what we’ve been looking at in Acts 27 and Acts as a whole, and across Scripture, impact our understanding of God today? We’re not lost in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea or shipwrecking and floating to Malta. We’re not Israel—led by God and yet demanding kings to be like all the other lands. But obviously, we still have uncertainties, troubles, tensions, and storms in our lives. We find troubles in our relationships with people we love. We find things lacking that have always seemed to be there, even things that we’ve expressed our gratitude to God for. Perhaps we even tell God, “I feel like I’ve believed exactly what you want me to believe—and there are others who don’t do that. I’ve tried to do what you want me to do, to love others and show compassion—not everyone’s living that out well right now. I’m so grateful for who you are and that you’ve chosen me. But why can’t things seem to go right?”
James Boice ended his commentary on our passage with this: “The Lord Jesus, not long before his arrest and crucifixion, gave a sermon on the Mount of Olives. He spoke of wars and rumors of wars. It was a way of saying, ‘Life is filled with trouble, and you will experience your share of it.’ But he added, ‘See to it that you are not alarmed.’ Not alarmed by war with its calamities? Not alarmed by life’s storms, as difficult as they can be? Not alarmed by sickness, disease, persecution, loss of jobs? No. ‘See to it that you are not alarmed.’ Why? Because God is the God of circumstances, and he is able to and indeed does preserve us in the midst of them. It is our task to trust him at all times and bear witness to him. It is our task as long as God permits us to remain in this world.”
What Boice is referring to there is Jesus’ words in Matthew 24. Jesus was speaking to his disciples about the end times—times which if they began in their lifetimes are continuing on still today. It is any time before Christ returns. Notice how he interprets Jesus’ words, though. Jesus said, “‘…See to it that you are not alarmed.’” Boice writes, “…Our task is to trust him at all times and bear witness to him…as long as God permits us to remain in this world.”
Is that what we do, brothers and sisters? Do we trust him at all times and bear witness to him, not alarmed, in the storms of this life? However we look at COVID, however we look at politics, however we look at injustices in our society—are we trusting Jesus and are we bearing witness to him? Not are we spewing our views and every argument we’ve read online about rates and masks and stuff like that, not about voter fraud or ignorance, but are we trusting Jesus while acknowledging there is a storm and even multiple storms going on? Trusting Jesus doesn’t mean forget about the storm, or don’t take precautions or tell people to suck it up and move on—no, trusting Jesus means remembering Jesus said these kinds of things would take place, don’t be surprised about them. Remember, though, he is present with his people, though not necessarily how we hope or expect. He’s sovereign—not a hair can fall from your head without the will of your Father in heaven, but he may allow things to happen that don’t appear to be healing or reconciling. We still ought to practice gratitude to God.
I personally think there were times when Paul was afraid on that ship, when he didn’t feel good, when the rising and dropping of this large vessel on high seas and not seeing land continued day after day, when everyone’s going a little crazy, including not eating. Yet Paul was secure in his calling, as he waited—whether God would speak or not—it didn’t change what he believed, who he believed in, and that whatever happened God could use for his glory. So, wherever each of us are at—whatever storms we’re experiencing or lulls we’re happy to enjoy—no matter what—trust that God is present with you, he will not leave you nor forsake you, and his will includes so much more than any single circumstance that we feel deserves so much attention, energy, or emotion. Obey our Master who has told us, “‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.’” Amen.