Acts 27:15

CRITICAL REMARKS

Act_27:15. The result was that the vessel could not bear up into the wind—lit., could not look into, or face the wind—a remarkably expressive phrase, considering that in ancient ships eyes were painted on each side of the bow; English sailors still call the “bow” the eyes of a ship (Conybeare and Howson)—so that the sailors let her drive or gave way to her, and were driven (R.V.)—lit., having given up the vessel to the wind, we were borne along at its mercy.

Act_27:16 clauds, or, according to best authorities, Cauda, or Gauda; Claudos (Ptolemy); presently named Gaudo by the Greeks, and Gozzo by the Italians; an island twenty-three miles south-west of Crete, “different from the similarly-called island near Malta” (Holtzmann). Much work to come by the boat.—Lit., we were able with difficulty to become masters of the boat—i.e., to get possession of it; which, however, they did; hoisting it up on board so that it might not be dashed to pieces in the storm, and might serve as a last means of escape (Act_27:30).

Act_27:17. Helps, undergirding the ship.—I.e., ropes, chains, and such like, for putting over the gunwale and under the keel, so as, by drawing them together, to strengthen the hud and keep it from falling to pieces. The term for this in the English navy is “frapping.” Com-Hor., Od., I. xiv. 6: “Sine funibus vix durare carinœ possint, imperiosins œquor.” The quicksands, or the Syrtis, were the Syrtis Major, on the coast of Africa, south-west of Crete, a dangerous shoal or sandbank, of which ancient mariners were much afraid (Jos., Wars, II. xvi. 4). Here Virgil placed the shipwreck of Æneas (Æneid, i. 153). Strake sail.—Lit. lowered the gear, the verb being that employed to describe the letting down of the boat into the sea (Act_27:30), and of Paul over the wall of Damascus (Act_9:25; 2Co_11:33). What was lowered was, either

(1) the sails, so that the vessel scudded along under bare poles (Meyer, De Wette, Hackett, Lechler, Holtzmann); or

(2) the great yard, or top hamper, leaving only a small storm-sail (Conybeare and Howson, Smith, Alford, Plumptre); or

(3) the stern anchor, so as, by dragging, to retard as much as possible the ship’s progress (Brensing). And so were driven, or were borne along—i.e., they drifted.

Act_27:18. They lightened the ship.—By casting out what of the cargo could be spared. This occurred during the second day of the storm. The ship had obviously sprung a leak.

Act_27:19. On the third day the tackling followed. This was either

(1) the yards, masts, and sails of the ship (Olshausen Ewald, Smita, Conybeare and Howson); or

(2) the tables, chests, beds, and the like, the ship’s furniture (De Wette, Meyer, Alford, Lechler, Hackett, Holtzmann); or

(3) the baggage of the passengers (Wetstein, Kuinoel, Winer, Plumptre). The best texts read they instead of we cast out.

Act_27:20. When neither sun nor stars in many days appeared.—This, the overclouding of the sky, “a circumstance not unusual during a Levanter” (Conybeare and Howson), rendered ancient navigation perilous, as without a compass they had no other means of determining their position than by observation of the heavenly bodies.

Act_27:21. Long abstinence.—Not necessarily entire (compare Act_27:33), but partial, and occasioned not by lack of provisions, but by fear and the difficulty of preparing food during the continuance of the gale. Ye should have hearkened unto me was said, not so much to rebuke them as to secure their attention to what he was about to state.

Act_27:22. Be of good cheer.—Compare Act_23:11. “Look and tone, we may well believe, helped the words. It was something in that scene of misery and dejection to see one man stand forward with a brave, calm confidence” (Plumptre).

Act_27:24. Fear not, Paul.—One naturally infers from this that the apostle was not entirely free from anxiety (compare Act_18:9). Thou must be brought, or stand (R.V.), before Cæsar.—Compare Act_23:11.

Act_27:26. This whole passage (Act_27:21-26) has been pronounced an interpolation by the writer of the Acts (Zeller, Overbeck, Hilgenfeld, Holtzmann), on the ground that it does not harmonise with the statements in Act_27:10; Act_27:31. But while God’s purposes are certain in fulfilment, man is not, on that account, relieved from the necessity of employing means for their accomplishment. See “Hints” on Act_27:21-26.

HOMILETICAL ANALYSIS.—Act_27:15-26

Drifting Upon the Deep; or, Preparing for The Worst

I. Making for shelter.—This the storm-driven vessel found for a little under the lee of a small island named Clauda or Cauda, the modern Gozzo, about twenty miles south-west of Cape Matala. The word used by Luke “running under,” it has been observed (Smith, The Shipwreck of St. Paul, 2nd ed., p. 100), is a striking nautical term which expresses first that the ship had the wind behind it, and secondly, that it had the wind between itself and the island. Hence the inference is that it passed to the south-east of the island.

II. Hoisting up the boat.—This, as already remarked, had been towing astern when the ship left the Fair Havens. Either the storm had arisen so suddenly or had not been expected to continue, so that at first no attention was turned to the boat. When the vessel was fairly caught by the hurricane, it was impossible to do anything in the way of securing the boat. In the temporary shelter afforded by the island, the sailors managed, though with difficulty, to get it brought on board. It had obviously by this time become waterlogged. It was not much of a protection for two hundred and seventy passengers; but should things come to the worst it might be the means of saving some, if not all.

III. Frapping the ship.—So apprehensive were the captain and owner that the violence of the storm might cause the ship’s timbers to start, and the ship to spring a leak, that they resorted to a practice which, though seldom necessary, in consequence of the superior construction of modern vessels, is nevertheless still occasionally employed by sailors in a storm. They used helps, undergirding the ship. They put chains under the keel and over the gunwale of the vessel, and probably ropes along its sides, to strengthen the hull and keep it from being battered to pieces. Mr. Smith and Conybeare and Howson mention several instances of the practice here referred to, of which the following may be cited.

1. At the battle of Navarino the Albion man-of-war received so much damage during the action, that it became necessary to have recourse to frapping, and the vessel had chain cables passed round her under the keel, which were tightened by others passed horizontally along the sides, interlacing them; and she was brought home in this state to Portsmouth.

2. On December 20th, 1837, the schooner St. Croix, fifty-three tons burden, bound for Kingston, Jamaica, encountered a severe gale from south-west and lay to for seven days. On the 26th she shipped a heavy sea, which took away about one-third of her deck-load. For the preservation of the crew, vessel, and balance of deck-load, it was found necessary to secure the top of the ship, which was done by passing a coil of four-inch Manilla rope round and round the vessel, and making them as tight as possible by means of heavers. One of the chains was also passed round and fastened with tackles and heavers, so that the top of the vessel was secured and the leak in the waterways was stopped. In this way the vessel reached its destination.

IV. Lowering the gear.—Considerable dubiety exists as to the exact import of this expression—some supposing it to mean that the sails were taken down so as to let the vessel scud along under bare poles, and others that the stern anchor was paid out, that, by dragging, it might impede the ship’s progress; but the opinion most in favour is that the top hamper was lowered and the mast rigged with only a small storm-sail. The reason for this precaution was that the sailors dreaded being driven upon the Great Syrtis (to-day called the Gulf of Sidra), a dangerous shoal upon the coast of Africa, which was a terror to all ancient seamen—“a place terrible to such as barely hear it described,” said Agrippa in his memorable speech, dissuading his countrymen from going to war with the Romans (Jos., Wars, II. Act_16:4)—and on which, according to Virgil, the ship of Æneas was wrecked (Æneid, 1:157). This might, to some extent, have been hindered, if not wholly prevented, by the second of the above methods, lowering a stern anchor—by the first not at all; but the probability is that the course adopted was that suggested by the third,—viz., lying to, with the ship’s head turned towards the wind or brought as near it as possible, with as much canvas set as would prevent her from falling off into the trough of sea. Smith, Conybeare and Howson, Lewin, Penrose, and other competent authorities, are of opinion that she lay to within seven points of the wind on what is called the starboard tack.

V. Lightening the ship—The violence of the gale continuing, additional measures were required to ensure safety.

1. A part of the cargo—perhaps the deck cargo, or whatever portion of the freight could be most easily spared—was thrown overboard on the second day of the storm. That all was not thrown out appears later on (Act_27:38).

2. The tackling of the ship followed on the succeeding day, the third of the hurricane. What the spare gear meant cannot be definitely stated. Mr. Smith conjectures it may have been the mainyard, “an immense spar, probably as long as the ship, which would require the united efforts of passengers and crew to launch overboard,” and adds, “The relief a ship would experience by this would be of the same kind as in a modern war-vessel when the guns are thrown overboard.” In this work of casting out “the ship’s furniture” the A.V., following certain ancient MSS. represents Luke and his companions, perhaps including Paul, as taking part; but, according to the best texts the work was done by the sailors alone.

VI. Despairing of safety.—This was the condition of the crew and passengers for the next few days. When the ship lay to under the starboard tack she began to drift away westward, or, more correctly speaking, west by north, at the rate of (say) thirty-six miles in twenty-four hours. With a ship manifestly leaking, a wild storm raging, a grey sky overhead during day, concealing the sun, and a black pall at night shutting out the stars, so that no observations could be made of their whereabouts, it was not surprising that all on board began to anticipate the worst. Tossed about at the mercy of wind and wave, with creaking and slackening timbers, they had no more cheerful prospect than that before long their ship would founder and go down, as Josephus’s vessel, with six hundred souls on board, had done in this same sea, the Adriatic.

VII. Taking heart of cheer.—How many days had passed before Paul interposed with his words of comfort is not told. Despair had laid its icy grasp on every heart. Nobody cared for food, and nobody could have eaten though food had been prepared. In such circumstances the apostle, the hurricane having for a moment lulled, it may be conjectured, stood forth among them, crew and passengers, to offer words of cheer.

1. He reproved them for not having acted on his advice when he counselled them to winter in Fair Havens (Act_27:10);—which perhaps shows that Paul regarded that advice as having been founded on more than his own natural sagacity. Had they listened to his suggestion, they had not come by their present injury and loss.

2. He assured them that no lives would perish, though the ship would be lost. This he stated, not as an inference of his own foresight, but as the result of a communication made to him during the preceding night, direct from heaven, by an angel of the God whom he served, and in answer to prayer. That heavenly ambassador had repeated an intimation previously made (Act_23:11), that he must go to Rome and stand before Cæsar (which implied that his life would not be lost in that storm), adding the further statement that, in answer to his supplication, God had granted him the lives of all his fellow-passengers.

3. He exhorted them to be of good cheer. Twice used (Act_27:22-25), this expression revealed at once his earnestness and strong conviction of the truth of what he said—a conviction which arose from his faith in God, whose promises to him were Yea and amen (2Co_1:20). He believed that what God had spoken to him would come to pass. Hence he could afford to dismiss all anxiety as to the issue of the voyage. Could they have believed him, as he believed God, they might have done the same. That Luke and Aristarchus were relieved of their apprehensions by Paul’s address need hardly be questioned. But that the crew and passengers continued in alarm is apparent from the circumstance that when next Paul spoke to them, on the fourteenth night (Act_27:33), they had not broken fast.

4. He told them they would be cast upon a certain island. As land was not then visible, this announcement must be regarded as having formed part of the communication made to Paul by the angel. The addition of this fact reminded the crew and passengers that, even if they did credit Paul’s assurance, there was still need for caution, lest in the stranding of the vessel they should, after all, be drowned. God’s promise in no way relieved them of the necessity of caring for their own safety.

Learn—

1. The helplessness of man when he falls into the hands of God. Sailors and passengers realise this when caught in a storm at sea.

2. The worthlessness of material treasure when compared with life. “Skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath, will he give for his life.”

3. The holy courage which true piety inspires. Paul lost neither heart nor head in the storm.

4. The certainty that worldly and unbelieving men receive many blessings from God for His people’s sakes.

5. The assurance possessed by faith that God will keep His promise.

HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS

Act_27:15. The Drifting Life and Its Opposite (compared with Joh_6:21).

1. The drifting life is our first subject. Its name is legion. It is not the only life of the human being—but it is the life of hundreds of thousands. “Drifting” is its superscription. Caught by the Euroclydon of chance and change, of accident and circumstance, it gives way to it, and so is driven. It drifts. Its very framework and setting—its external condition, its employment, its occupation, its profession—has perhaps been accident. It had a home, and it went to school, it did its lessons, and ate and drank, and it grew up, and it took its chance, and here it is. The outward life drifted. If this were all, something might be said of its quiet submission to a higher guidance—human guidance or even Divine. But this is not all. The life which we are describing is not only passive in the sense of submission—it is passive also in departments where it is death not to be active. For example, there is such a thing as drifting into associations, drifting into habits, drifting into a course of conduct. How else can we describe nine-tenths of the companionships, nine-tenths of the attachments, nine-tenths of the marriages, which may almost be said to have the life itself in their keeping? Drifting is the explanation of half the personal habits which make a good or a bad life. Letting alone is another word for it. Habits are only tricks on a large scale; every one knows how easy these are to fall into, how difficult to get rid of; what else are those habits of temper, habits of speech, habits of thoughts—sloth, debt, intemperance, profaneness, immorality—what else are they but negligences at first, things thought not worth attending to, so trivial, so immaterial, so easily dropped at any moment if they should go too far or become troublesome? We drift into them. There are positive habits and negative. You let your morning prayer pass one morning—you just drifted out of the good habit, as you drifted into the bad one. There are habits of the mind as well as of the life. Opinion is a habit of the mind—not least on the highest subjects. Faith itself is a mental habit—faith, and its opposite. But how few are they, by comparison, who carefully and earnestly form these mental habits. Reflect for a moment upon your reasons for thinking this, for believing that. “Be ready,” St. Peter says, “to answer when men ask you for a reason for the hope that is in you”—can we obey that precept? Must we not say, most of us, I drifted into my faith—it is the religion of my home and of my country. Very sad, sometimes, is the spectacle of this kind of drifting.

2. Thus we reach the second text, and the second picture, and the second parable—that which shows us the disciples crossing the sea of Galilee through wind and storm, terrified in the midst of it first by the absence and then by the apparition of their Master, then calmed by His voice of reassurance, receiving Him into their ship, and straightway finding themselves at the land whither they went. The opposite of a life of drifting is obviously a life of aim, of purpose, of directness. A life which goes, not anywhere, but somewhither. A life with a terminus, with a destination, with a haven. A life possessing both helm and pilot, a controlling hand and a guiding will. Such a life may be, and yet be earthly. A business life may have, in terms at least, all these conditions. But how when we take into view the whole of being—eternity, as well as time? How then? We want to know what is the security against drifting when we take in two worlds. And we find it in the words, “They received Him into the ship.” No life is safe from drifting unless it has religion in it. A strong will cannot prevent the ship, which is the life, from being caught by some Euroclydon, and driven, helpless, before it.—Dean Vaughan.

Act_27:15-20. The Voyage of Life.—As depicted in that of Paul from Crete. Such as sail across the ocean of life are—

I. Often exceedingly tossed with a tempest.—

1. Of physical affliction.

2. Of mental tribulation.

3. Of heart-anxiety.

4. Of spiritual distress.

II. Sometimes reduced to such straits that they must part with all they count dear.—

1. With material substance.

2. With intellectual wealth.

3. With (supposed) spiritual riches.

4. With all ordinary means of saving themselves.

III. Not unfrequently plunged into despair.—

1. About their bodily life.

2. Concerning their soul’s salvation.

Act_27:22. Good Cheer for Christian Sailors.

I. No soul shall be lost, however severe may be the tempests that arise against it.

“Let troubles rise and terrors frown,

And days of darkness fall;

Through Him all dangers well defy,

And more than conquer all.”

Scotch Paraphrase.

II. No guarantee that everything else may not be lost.—The ship the Christian sails in may be lost. His body may perish. His creature comforts may be removed. All he confides in may be shattered. He himself shall be saved (1Co_3:15).

Four Anchors.—The message—“I exhort you to be of good cheer”—is Christianity’s message to storm-tossed souls. When the long voyage has been one of continual storm; when you look back and see nothing but cloud, and darkness, and disappointment; when the very cargo that you ventured all upon has been thrown overboard, and there is nothing left; when you look forward and hear the surf pounding on the rocks—a sign of death close at hand;—then Christianity comes with this message: “I exhort you to be cheerful.” In such a time as that there are four anchors which the Christian may throw out while he wishes for day. They are, Duty, Hope, Christ, and God.

I. Duty.—When there is no longer any inspiration in life; when you can no longer see that you can do anything; when it seems that all life thus far has been a failure; when you cannot see that you can accomplish anything in the future;—then comes Duty to stand by your side and say, “Do not leave the ship. You are in peril with others; you are bearing a burden with others: bear the burden, and do not throw it off upon them.” Duty—all her surliness turns to serenity, and all her serenity to peace. Let a man live for happiness—for himself, for his wife, for his children, for his home, for others—and sooner or later the time of shipwreck will come to him. Let him live for what men call honour, and honour will not leave him in the hour of shipwreck. It was duty that enabled the six hundred to make that charge at Balaclava, though some one had blundered, and they rode to death. It is duty that enables many a man to stand where honour has no reward for him, and fame no value to him, and yet to stand, and, having done all, still stand; for duty inspires him, and duty is the voice of God speaking in conscience.

II. The second anchor is Hope—that is, immortal hope. Let a man live under the impression that the horizon of this present time is the horizon of his life, and I do not see how he can help at times asking himself, Is life worth living? and shaking his head sorrowfully in reply. One is prosperous and makes money, and is wealthy—what then? What can he do with it? Life is like an ocean voyage. The man comes out in the morning from his cabin and starts to walk the deck. Whether it is a little boat or a big one does not make much difference, for after a few years he has traversed the whole deck from stern to stem, stands on the bow, and knows all the life that is. What then? Lie down to sleep, wearied one; in the morning we shall wake in the harbour, a new continent before you, and your friends there waiting to receive you. This is the anchor that you are to throw out while you wish for day: “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” Blessed are those that believe in a morning.

III. The third anchor is Christ—Christ as a real Saviour from sorrow and sin, here and now; Christ as the noblest example of heroism; Christ as the inspiration to right life, because one that has entered into life and borne the brunt of life’s battle; Christ, the power to live the life that is worth living.

IV. And then in all these, God.—“My God, whom I serve, sent His angel to stand by me this night.” The presence of God. God in the garden and God in the desert; God at the cradle and God at the grave; God at the wedding-feast and God at the funeral; God in the hour of plenty and God in the hour of famine; God in that voice of duty, making conscience really Divine; God in that word of hope, the God of all hope, filling us with hope; God in that Christ, coming to take man’s burdens and show them how, not to get free from them, but how bravely to tear them. Christ’s message to the men who are storm-tossed, whose past is one long cyclone, whose future is an unknown grave, and the only comfort in whose ears is the sound of the breakers on the shore—the message of Christ to them is: Be of good cheer; Duty still lives, though happiness is dead; Hope has come—it beckons from beyond the grave; Christ is the model of a perfect heroism and the power of a Divine life; and over all, and in all, and through all, is the Father, God.—Lyman Abbott, D.D.

Act_27:23. The Confession in the Midst of the Storm.—Paul here speaks—

1. Decidedly. He is no waverer, no halter between two opinions. He has made up his mind. He is thoroughly decided. He speaks as one who has made his choice.

2. Certainly. He interposes no “if” or “perhaps,” but speaks as one who knows his relationship to God.

3. Calmly. These are not the words of excitement or fanaticism.

4. Joyfully. They are the words of one exulting in the consciousness of this Divine relationship.

5. Earnestly. With him all connected with God is a profound reality. Such is our model! Though we be not apostles, we are to take our stand here. Nothing less than this will do. Indecision, oscillation, half-heartedness, will not do. Compromise will not do. Lukewarmness will not do. Formalism will not do. In everything relating to God there must be reality, sincerity, completeness. The whole heart must be there.—H. Bonar, D.D.

Paul’s Personal Religion.—It is Paul’s personal religion, then, that these words of his bring before us—not in any of its doctrinal details, but, bettor still, in the whole of its practical essence. We will try to read some of its features as the words reveal them.

I. First, we will note what we may call the clearheadedness of Paul’s religion. The religion of too many is a thing of haze. They do not see through it, and they do not know their position in it. Their abounding experience is that of mist. They may be Christians, happily, but also they may not; they themselves, at least, are not clear on the subject. Yet it is in their own consciousness that the evidence ought to be strongest. Now, in Paul’s religion there is not a trace of this. His religious outlook is clean and clear. He does not at this moment know very well where he is as a voyager on God’s world; but he does know distinctly where He is, and what he is, as a religious being under God’s government. He is a Christian as surely as he is a man. He lays his own hand on all that belongs to a Christian. There are mysteries enough without having this, too, for a mystery. “The God,” says he to the hearkening crowd on the deck, “whose I am, whom also I serve.” Paul does not see what is awaiting him in Rome, but he will tell himself, and he will tell other men, that he foresees sufficiently well what is awaiting him in the heavenly “city of the great King.”

II. A second thing, then, which we note in Paul’s religion is its clearheartedness. Paul, it is easy to see, is not embarrassed with his religion. There is nothing of load or weight in it—nothing of the entanglement of anxiety, or fear, or concealment, or shame. It is plain that he is rather proud than otherwise of his religion. These words declare his religion, throb with it, glory in it. On that long voyage he has never kept it a secret from any man how it stands between God and him. This of itself is proof enough that there is no degradation in his religious position. There can be nothing in it that is unworthy of a man, nothing that is uncongenial to the most gifted and capacious of human spirits. Does it appear to have broken his energy, or crushed his high spirit—this submission of himself and his powers to the control of his God? Nay; if all the truth were told, Paul was never Paul at his best, or anything near it, till he could say, “The God whose I am, whom also I serve.”

III. A third thing we have to note about the religion of Paul is its outward expression—the form it presents to the observation of men. This appears in the phrase “Whom also I serve.” That signifies, “To whom I do worship—to whose honour I perform all my religious rites, and at whose hands I take all my religious duties.” In a word, Paul worships his God—obeys worshipping, and worships obeying. His religion, rich with reverence, seeks outward manifestation of itself, and the manifestation it finds is worship—the observance of all the prescribed yet untrammelled methods of homage which are suitable to such a God as his. Those listening men had most of them their gods, to whom they did service, gave honour, made offerings—divinities whose anger they sought to soothe, whose favour they coveted to win, whose temples they were fain to frequent. Men could thus read their religion. So it was, more finely, with Paul. His religion, much more than theirs, was a spiritual religion, but it was not left altogether bodiless. He prayed, he praised—alone, or in company with brethren.

IV. But a fourth thing which we must now note about the religion of Paul is its inward thoroughness—its personalness, and depth, and solidity. The essence of Paul’s religion, we have said, is in this passage; we may now say that the essence of the passage is in these three words: “Whose I am.” Paul, then, simply does not belong to himself, but to his God. For him, “to live is Christ,” and to die is only more of Christ. But we must let those three words of Paul’s mean to ourselves the whole that they meant to him. Assuredly enough, he had consecrated his life to God’s will; but he had done more. He had given his whole being to God Himself—to Father, Son, and Spirit. “Whose,” says he, “I am”—precisely meaning what he says. Of course Paul was His—His, as the flower on the mountain-side is His who made it; as the silent, far-off star is His, and all the bustling burden of our wheeling world; for they bear upon them the lines of His creating hand. Of course Paul was His, for nothing else than His all-working providence from moment to moment could have preserved Paul to this hour. True; but the words carry more intensity in them than these considerations could ever have inspired. Paul had seen more to stir him, and had seen what stirred him more, than all creation and all providence. Paul, with his vision Divinely cleansed, had looked and beheld how his God, as the Man Jesus, had girded Himself to meet the desperate needs of Paul, had pitied Paul in his helplessness and guilt, had set it before Himself to redeem Paul at any cost that stayed short of unrighteousness, and had verily redeemed Paul at the cost of comfort, companionship, reputation, lordship, life—borne down under a great lone enduring to which the world can bring no parallel. “I am Thine: Thou hast saved me.”

V. The last thing we will note about the religion of Paul is its temporal and eternal actuality. That we may better feel this momentous characteristic of Paul’s religion, let me ask you to think again of the simple facts of the record. Paul knows that his God is great enough to be invisible, and mighty enough to be controlling all things everywhere. He knows he is the friend of his God. He is now in jeopardy. Paul’s religion, then, with all its soaring sublimity, and all its nearly incredible creed, was still a system of facts, and not of fancies. His religious sentiment worked among actualities, and not among shadows. His religious reliance had a vastness of substantially behind it, and not an infinitude of cloud. Paul felt his foot firm, and had reason—firm for time, and firm for eternity. It will be little more than extending our consideration of this last characteristic of Paul’s religion if, ere we close, we turn our eye upon the first three of this messenger’s words—the keynote of his message—“Fear not, Paul.” Absolutely speaking, this is the key-tone of the whole religion of Christ, and it is the key-tone of no other—hardly a tone at all of any other. Not the best of other religions can even pretend to carry into the very heart of a man such strong self-possession. But do not these three words bring a breath of good cheer to every Christian of us who, like Paul, is on lines of duty set for him by a gracious Providence, and on those lines is meeting with what is adverse, threatening, dangerous? As obedient Christians, as dutiful men and women of Christ, the last thing for us to do is to fear.—J. A. Kerr Bain, M. A.

Act_27:23-24. The True Greatness of the Christian.—Whether minister or private believer.

I. His exalted character.—He belongs to God—“whose I am.”

1. By right of creation.

2. By title of purchase.

3. By act of voluntary dedication.

II. His noble profession.—He serves God—“Whom I serve.”

1. Intelligently, not blindly.

2. Heartily, not grudgingly.

3. Constantly, not intermittently.

III. His heavenly privilege.—

1. Visited by angels—There stood by me this night an angel of God.” “Are they not all ministering spirits?” etc. (Heb_1:14).

2. Admitted to the throne of grace. Paul had obviously been praying for his fellow-voyagers.

IV. His wide-reaching influence.—He becomes a means and a cause of blessing, even to those who love neither him nor his God. “God hath given thee all them that sail with thee” (compare Mat_5:13).

Act_27:24. Paul’s God.

I. His glorious majesty.—

1. Served by angels.

2. Worshipped by men.

II. His wondrous condescension.—In noting the drifting ship.

2. In visiting His suffering servant

3. In answering that servant’s prayer.

III. His regal sovereignty.—

1. Over the sea.

2. Over the lives of men.

3. Over the course of events.

IV. His absolute faithfulness.—In keeping His promised word to Paul—that he should stand before Cæsar.

V. His boundless mercy.—In granting the lives of all on board the ship, of whom most knew Him not, and many loved and served Him not.

The divine “Must”; or what the Angel’s words signified.—Six things.

I. Three to Paul.—

1. That his life would be spared. Against all the probabilities of opposing nature, whoever else might perish, he would not. “All things possible with God”; and “Our times in His hand,”

“Not a single shaft can hit

Till the God of love sees fit.”

2. That his appeal to Cæsar had not been wrong. If Paul had ever felt misgiving as to whether he had followed the right course in claiming to have his cause determined by the Emperor, the angel’s words must have reassured him, must in fact have led him to conclude that his action had been dictated by the Spirit of God, and was accordingly approved by God as right. To a good man it ever is a source of highest consolation to know that his footsteps are being guided by the Lord.

3. That the issue of his trial would be favourable. The angel who said “Fear not” could hardly have intended that the Emperor would condemn him.

II. Three to Paul’s fellow-voyagers.—

1. That Paul was under the special protection of heaven. This must have imparted considerable importance to Paul in their eyes, and perhaps convinced them of his innocence. God is able to exalt his servants before men, however strongly appearances may set against them.

2. That Paul was in God’s sight the principal person in the ship. The real steersman and commander, while all the rest only sailed with him. How differently are men’s positions even in this world estimated, when God is the judge!

3. That Paul would be to them a better protector than either Julius or the captain. For Paul’s sake were the whole ship’s company to be saved. The men of the world little know how many benefits they receive at God’s hand, simply because God’s servants are among them.—Compiled from Stier.

Act_27:25. God and the Believer.

I. God’s promises to the believer are—

1. Great.

2. Clear.

3. Comforting.

4. Saving.

II. The believer’s faith in God is—

1. Simple.

2. Hearty.

3. Undoubting.

4. Sustaining.

Act_27:21-26. Adrift upon the Deep; or, Paul’s Heroism in the Storm.

I. The magnificent spirit he displayed.—

1. Calmness. The only man on board the tempest-tossed merchantman that lost not his head, but whose coolness was equal to, and even superior to, the occasion, was Paul. Of the two hundred and seventy-six souls that formed the vessel’s living freight—master and owner, centurion and prisoners, sailors, soldiers, and passengers, perhaps not even excepting Luke and Aristarchus—it is obvious that all were filled with alarm, plunged in despair, preparing for the worst, expecting every moment to go to the bottom. Of course these were not to be blamed. It is easy to be cool when sailing over placid seas; but to be caught in a Euroclydon, which whistles through the canvas, makes the cordage rattle, strains the timbers or iron plates of the ship, and tosses it about upon the boiling waters like a plaything—is sufficient to try the nerves of the strongest, bravest, and best men. Even the disciples in similar circumstances were afraid (Mat_8:23-27). Yet Paul was self-possessed and cool, prisoner though he was, working all day (Act_27:19) and at night not sleeping, though he could have done so more peacefully than Jonah (Act_1:5), but waking, visited by angels and communing with heaven, praying for himself and his fellow-voyagers. Might it not be said, “And he thought of Christ, who stilled the wave on the Lake of Galilee”? Not every Christian could behave so in a foundering ship!

2. Courage. Having stepped forward amidst the crowd that were huddled on the deck he reproved the captain, centurion, and passengers, for not listening to his advice, when he besought them not to leave Fair Havens (Act_27:10). To some it may look as if it were rather an irrelevant, if not unbecoming and boastful, not to say cruel, speech to make at a moment when all were standing face to face with death. But it was none of these. Rather it was needful to be said if Paul was to gain a hearing for what he had next to communicate; and it was manly, fearless, and noble.

3. Confidence. He had no doubt as to the truthfulness of what he next told them—that all would eventually go well with them; that their fears were unnecessary; that though the ship would be lost they would not; that the ship would be wrecked upon a certain island (God had not promised him the safety of the ship, Act_27:22)—what island he could not say—but that not a life would be lost. It seemed all in the highest degree improbable; but nevertheless Paul believed all that he had said to be certain, because all that he had said had been revealed to him from heaven. Hence his confidence. Had his fellow-voyagers believed him, they too would have become confident; but they did not. Hence their hearts were a prey to black despair.

4. Cheerfulness. While on every countenance sat gloom, on his shone the lustre of joy. Though exhorted to partake of food, they could not. But he, standing in their midst, took bread and, having given thanks, brake it and began to eat. What a picture of Christian gladness! (Ecc_9:7).

II. The secret of his lofty behaviour.—The assurance which he had of three things.

1. Of his soul’s salvation. Paul knew that, though the ship went to the bottom, it would make no difference to his eternal destiny, it would only hasten him to his Master’s presence. He understood and remembered the relation in which he stood to God, and God stood to him. He belonged to God—“whose I am” (compare Isa_43:1)—and lived for God—“Whom I serve.” And God, he could have reverently added, belonged to him (Psa_16:5), and watched over him. Whatever happened he could have sung—

“When peace like a river attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea-billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know,

It is well, it is well with my soul!”

God and he, Christ and he, could not be partod (Rom_8:35-39).

2. Of his body’s preservation. The angel had told him—what once before his Lord had revealed to him (Act_23:11)—that he must stand before Cæsar; and that implied that he could not drown. The knowledge of that kept him calm, courageous, confident, and cheerful, so far as his own fate was concerned. Whoever might be lost, he could not be! Yet more!

3. Of the safety of his fellow-voyagers. It is hardly likely that Paul would have been either calm or cheerful if he had known that, while he himself should be saved, all the rest of the ship’s company should be lost. But he was spared this trial. The angel’s communication was that all should be rescued. And so the mystery of his singular behaviour was solved.

Lesson.—They who would show Paul’s calmness, courage, confidence, and cheerfulness, amid the storms and tempests of life, must be acquainted with Paul’s God, possess Paul’s religion, and exercise Paul’s faith.

Note.—With regard to the objection urged against the historical credibility of these verses (see “Critical Remarks”), the following observations may be pondered:—“We may at once grant that the narrative would go on without any obvious awkwardness, if Act_27:21-26 were omitted, which is of course true of many a paragraph describing some special incident in a historical work.” … “But it is half-hearted and useless to cut out Act_27:21-26 as an interpolation without cutting out Act_27:33-38; there, too, Paul is represented as the prophet and the consoler on a higher plane, though he is also the mere passenger suffering from hunger, and alive to the fact that the safety of all depends on their taking food and being fit for active exertion in the morning. Some critics go so far as to cut out Act_27:33-35. But it is not possible to cut these out alone; there is an obvious want of sequence between Act_27:32 and Act_27:36, and Holtzmann therefore seems to accept Act_27:33-35. But if they are accepted, I fail to see any reason for rejecting Act_27:21-26; these two passages are so closely akin in purport and bearing on the context, that they must go together; and all the mischief attributed to Act_27:21-26 as placing Paul on a higher plane is done in Act_27:33-35.” … “Further, the excision of Act_27:21-26 would cut away a vital part of the narrative.

(1) These verses contain the additional fact, natural in itself and assumed in Act_27:34 as already known, that the crew and passengers were starving and weak.

(2) They fit well into the context, for they follow naturally after the spiritlessness described in Act_27:20.” … “But let us cut out every verse that puts Paul on a higher plane, and observe the narrative that would result: Paul twice comes forward with advice that is cautiously prudent, and shows keen regard to the chance of safety.… The Paul who remains on the interpolation theory could never have written the Epistles.” … “Finally, the reason why the historian dwells at such length on the voyage lies mainly in Act_27:21-26; Act_27:33-38.… But the interpolation theory would cut out the centre of the picture.” … “There remains no reason to reject Act_27:21-26 which I can discover, except that it introduces the superhuman element.… But the superhuman element is inextricably involved in this book: you cannot cut it out by any critical process that will bear scrutiny. You must accept all or leave all.”—Ramsay, St. Paul the Traveller, etc., pp. 337–339.

The Preacher's Complete Homiletical Commentary (gen. ed. Joseph S. Exell; Funk & Wagnalls, c. 1892) — public domain (pre-1929). A full-Bible homiletical/sermon-outline anthology covering 65 of 66 books (2 John is absent from the source module). Text from a community e-Sword module.

Act_27:15. Συναρπασθ.] but when the ship was hurried along with (the whirlwind).

On ἀντοφθαλμεῖν, to look in the face, then to withstand, see Schweigh. Lex. Polyb. p. 57. Comp. Sir_19:6; Wis_12:14.

ἐπιδόντες] may either, with the Vulgate (data nave flatibus ferebamur), Luther, Elsner, and many others, be referred to τὸ πλοῖον, or be taken in a reflexive sense (Raphel, Wolf, Bengel, Kypke): we gave ourselves up and were driven. Comp. Lobeck, ad Aj. 250. The former is simpler, because τ. πλοίου precedes.

Meyer — Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament — English translation by Peter Christie, edited by Frederick Crombie (T&T Clark, 1880) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.

Act 27:15 . συναρπασθέντος δὲ τοῦ πλοίου : “and when the ship was caught by it” (Ramsay), a graphic word as if the ship was seized in the grasp of the wind; only in Luke, cf. Luk 8:29 , Act 6:12 ; Act 19:29 ; in LXX. cf. Pro 6:25 , 2Ma 3:27 ; 2Ma 4:41 , 4Ma 5:4 ; so in classical Greek, e.g. , Soph., Electr. , 1150. ἀντοφθαλμεῖν : “and could not face the wind,” R.V., “look at the wind eye to eye”: eyes were painted on the prows of vessels, but Alford thinks that the word was not originally a nautical term derived from this practice, but that more probably the expression was transferred to a ship from its usage in common life; it is used in Polybius of facing an enemy, Polyb., i., 17, 3, of resisting temptation, Act 28:17-18 , with δύνασθαι as here, and also with δύνασθαι in Wis 12:14 , cf. Act 6:11 , [415] text. For the fit application of the word to a ship see Breusing, p. 168. ἐπιδόντες ἐφερόμεθα : “we gave way to it (to the wind), and were driven,” or τὸ πλοῖον may be regarded as the object, “we gave up the ship to the winds,” “data nave fluctibus ferebamur,” Vulgate, so Holtzmann, Zöckler, Hackett, Wordsworth, and J. Smith, p. 106. The instances in Wetstein justify either rendering, see also references in Blass, in loco. ἐφερόμεθα : “and let the ship drive,” Ramsay and A.V., others render as passive, so Grimm-Thayer, sub v. ; in classical Greek it is often used passively for being borne along by wind, or storm, or wave, cf. Hom., Odys. , v., 343 (Page); Diod. Sic., xx., 16.

[415] R(omana), in Blass, a first rough copy of St. Luke.

The Expositor's Greek Testament, edited by W. Robertson Nicoll (1897–1910) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.

could not bear up into--"face"

the wind, we let her drift--before the gale.

Jamieson, Fausset & Brown — Commentary Critical and Explanatory on the Whole Bible (1871) — public domain (CC PDM 1.0). Text via the HelloAO Bible API.

Verse 15. And when the ship was caught] Συναρπασθεντος δε του πλοιου. The ship was violently hurried away before this strong levanter; so that it was impossible for her, αντοφθαλμειν, to face the wind, to turn her prow to it, so as to shake it out, as I have heard sailors say, and have seen them successfully perform in violent tempests and squalls.

We let her drive.] We were obliged to let her go right before this tempestuous wind, whithersoever it might drive her.

Adam Clarke's Commentary on the Bible (1810–1826) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword/MySword module.

15. When the ship was caught. Luke saith that that fell out here, which useth to fall out in extreme danger; namely, they suffered themselves to be carried of the winds. Seeing they were first gone some space, and the mariners thought that all things fell out as they would have it, undoubtedly they did deride Paul’s admonition; as rash men use commonly to wax proud if fortune favor them. Being now caught, they are grievously punished for their boldness; yea, when they drew near to an haven, they were no less afraid lest they should break the ship, than they were before of overturning the same. Luke doth diligently note all these things, out of which we may gather, that the storm was so vehement and fierce, and that it continued still at one stay, that they were still in danger of death. Also he declareth, that they did courageously use all remedies which might save them from suffering shipwreck, and that they spared not the merchandise and tackling; whence we gather that they were enforced, with a lively feeling of danger, to do what they were able. And Luke addeth, that when they had essayed all things, they despaired of their safety. And surely the very darkness of heaven was as it were a grave. Neither need we doubt but that the Lord meant by this means to commend and make more notable the grace of their deliverance which ensued shortly after. Nevertheless, he suffered his servant to labor with the rest, until he thought he should die. For he did not appear unto him by his angel, before it might seem that he was past hope of recovery. Wherefore his body was not only tossed amidst many storms, but his soul was also shaken with violent tentations. Notwithstanding the end doth show, that he stood upright by faith, so that he did not faint. Luke speaketh nothing of his prayers; but because he himself saith afterward that the angel of God, whom he served, appeared to him, it is likely that when others did curse both heaven and earth, he made his prayers to God, and so was quiet, and did patiently tarry the Lord’s leisure. And whereas he saith that all hope of safety was taken away, it must not be referred unto his sense, but only unto the means which men could use; as if he should say, that things were so far out of order, that there was no safety to be looked for at men’s hands.

John Calvin's Commentaries (1540-1563) — public domain. Text from the Calvin Translation Society English edition (1840s-50s) via the Christian Classics Ethereal Library (ccel.org). Calvin's coverage is partial (roughly two-thirds of the Bible); uncommented books and verses are honest gaps, never fabricated. The 19th-century editor's footnotes and remarks are omitted so the notes are faithfully Calvin's own voice.

(15) And could not bear up into the wind.—The Greek verb is literally, “to look into the wind’s eye,” to face the wind. The figure is a sufficiently natural one in all languages; but it perhaps received additional vividness from the fact that a large eye was commonly painted on the prow of Greek vessels. The practice is still not unusual in Mediterranean boats. Assuming the direction of the gale to have been as stated in the previous Note the ship was now driven in a south-west direction, scudding before the wind.

A Bible Commentary for English Readers, edited by Charles John Ellicott (1878–1897) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.

15. and could not bear up into the wind] (R. V. “face the wind”). This comes nearer to the original, which is literally “to look the wind in the eye.”

we let her drive] (R. V. “we gave way to it, and were driven.) The literal rendering is “having given way we were driven.” The general usage of the verb in the sense of “yielding to superior force” makes it most probable that the meaning is “we yielded to the wind.” The. A. V. makes the sense “we yielded the vessel up.”

The Cambridge Bible for Schools and Colleges (gen. ed. J. J. S. Perowne; Cambridge University Press, 1878–1918) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.

And when the ship was caught,.... By the wind, snatched up by it, and forcibly carried away:

and could not bear up into the wind; and against it, or look it in the face, as the word signifies; could not ply to windward, the wind being so high and the sea so strong:

we let her drive; about the sea, at pleasure, it being in vain to attempt to get her forward against the wind, or to direct her course.

John Gill's Exposition of the Whole Bible (1746–1763) — public domain (CC PDM 1.0). Text via the HelloAO Bible API.

15 And when the ship was caught, and could not bear up into the wind, we let her drive.

Ver. 15. Could not bear up] Or direct the eye against the wind, could not look it in the face. There is an elegance in the original, because part of the foreward of the ship is by mariners called the "ship’s eye," αντοφθαλμειν. ( Verbum Polybiauum. Hist. iv.)

John Trapp, A Commentary or Exposition upon All the Books of the Old and New Testament (1647–1656) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.

The ship was caught - By the wind. It came suddenly upon them as a tempest.

Could not bear up ... - Could not resist its violence, or the helmsman could not direct the ship. It was seized by the wind, and driven with such violence, that it became unmanageable.

We let her drive - We suffered the ship to be borne along by the wind without attempting to control it.

Albert Barnes' Notes on the Bible (1834–1885) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword/MySword module.

The ship was caught; being forced from Crete, and no longer at the command of the mariners, but in the sole power of the winds.

And could not bear up into the wind; the ship could not keep her course, the winds being contrary, so that her prow or head (part whereof was called the eye of the ship, and on which its name was formerly, as now at the stern, inscribed) could not bear up according as their course did require; whence that expression, αντοφθαλμειν τω ανεμω, which is here used.

Sic quo non voluit, sed quo rapit impetus undae.

Matthew Poole's English Annotations on the Holy Bible (1683–1685) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword/MySword module.

15. Caught—Seized and taken possession of by the wind.

Bear up— Literally, could not directly eye the wind. In the bows of ancient ships were painted two eyes, so as to give the look of a living thing. The ship could not face the wind; the blast whirled it about, and turned its bow southwest, the direction of the wind, and compelled it rapidly to scud to the south of Clauda, by the shelter of which it was for the moment fortunately covered.

Let her drive—Let her drift in the straight line of the blast.

Daniel D. Whedon (gen. ed.), Commentary on the Old and New Testaments (1874–1909) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.

Face the wind for bear up into the wind, A.V.; gave way to it, and were driven for let her drive, A.V.. Was caught; sunarpasqentov, only here in this sense of being caught and carried away by the gale, but used in three other places by St. Luke (and only by him), viz. Lukenta Act_6:12 Act_19:29. It is found more than once in the LXX, and is common in classical Greek. Sophocles uses it of a storm which carries everything away, Pa) xunarpasav quell opwv ("Elect.," 1150). Face; ajntofqalmein, only here in the New Testament; but in Polybius and elsewhere it is said or" looking any one in the face with defiance. And so RAPC Wis 12:14; Ecc 19:5 (Complut. Edit.), ajntofqalmwn hJdonaiv, "resisteth pleasures," A.V. Compare the phrase, "looked one another in the fqhsan 2Ki_14:8, 2Ki_14:11, (w proswpoiv). Hence here it means simply "resist," or "stand against," or, as well rendered in the R.V, "face." Gave way to it, etc.; ejpidontev ejferomeqa, a rather obscure phrase, but best explained "giving her" (the ship) to the wind, "we were carried" rapidly before it. JEpididwmi, is to give, to give up, to give into any one"s (Luk_4:17; Act_15:30) ejpidontev is opposed to ajntofqalmein, giving up to, abandoning her to, as opposed to resisting. jEferomeqa, we were hurried along before the wind, without will or choice of our own (as ver. 17). Common in Homer and other classical writers, for being borne along by wind, or waves, or storm, etc.. (For the application of feromai in the middle voice to a wind, see Act_2:2)

The Pulpit Commentary (1880–1919), ed. H.D.M. Spence-Jones & Joseph S. Exell — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.

15. “And the ship, being caught and unable to resist the wind, surrendering, we were carried along.” The tornado was so awful as to prove utterly irresistible. I was in a storm on the Atlantic Ocean five days and nights, aboard a great German steamer with thirty-six boilers, shooting through mountain seas like an arrow.

William B. Godbey, Commentary on the New Testament (1896–1900) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.

See notes on verse 14

J. W. McGarvey (with Philip Y. Pendleton), Commentaries on the New Testament (The Fourfold Gospel, 1914; Acts; and the epistles) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword/MySword module.

15. ἀντοφθαλμεῖν τῷ ἀνέμῳ, to face the wind. Literally, ‘to look the wind in the eye.’ The verb is found Wis 12:14, οὔτε βασιλεὺς ἢ τύραννος ἀντοφθαλμῆσαι δυνήσεταί σοι.

ἐπιδόντες ἐφερόμεθα, we gave way to it and were driven. The verb ἐπιδίδωμι has constantly the sense of yielding to a superior force. That force here is the wind. The A.V. makes the sense to be ‘we yielded up the vessel,’ which has not so much support, though it is not unexampled.

Cambridge Greek Testament for Schools and Colleges (Cambridge University Press, 1896; 21 vols, various authors incl. Carr, Maclear, Plummer, Farrar, Lumby, Moule, M. R. James, Simcox) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.

15. συναρπ.] being hurried away, ‘borne along,’ by it: see reff.

ἀντοφθαλμεῖν] It is hardly likely that this term, which is used so naturally and constantly of men facing an enemy (Polyb. i. 17. 3, and eight times more), and also metaphorically of resisting temptation (μὴ δύνασθαι τοῖς χρήμασιν ἀντοφθαλμεῖν, Polyb. xxviii. 17. 18), should have been originally a naval term, derived from the practice of painting eyes on either side of the beaks of ships. More probably the expression was transferred to a ship from its usage in common life.

ἐπιδόντες] So Plutarch de Fortun. Rom. cited in note on ver. 26. Either ‘the ship,’ or ‘ourselves,’ may be supplied: or better perhaps, neither, but the word taken generally—giving up.

ἐφερόμεθα] passive: we were driven along.

Henry Alford, The Greek Testament (1849–1861) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.

Bear up [αντοφθαλμειν] . Only here in New Testament. From ajnti opposite, and ojfqalmov, the eye. Lit, to look the wind : in the eye. The ancient ships often had an eye painted on each side of the bow. To sail "into the eye of the wind" is a modern nautical phrase.

We let her drive [επιδοντες εφερομεθα] . Lit., having given up to it, we were born along.

Marvin R. Vincent, Word Studies in the New Testament (1887–1900) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword/MySword module.