Acts 27. The time was now come for Paul's journey to Rome. No formal trial of the apostle had yet taken place. And, no doubt, wearied with the unrelenting opposition of the Jews—with two years' imprisonment at Caesarea—with repeated examinations before the governors and Agrippa, he had claimed a trial before the imperial court. Luke, the historian of the Acts, and Aristarchus of Thessalonica, were favored to accompany him. Paul was committed to the charge of a centurion named Julius, of the imperial band; an officer, who, upon all occasions, treated the apostle with the greatest kindness and consideration.
It was then "determined" that Paul should be sent along with "certain other prisoners," by sea to Italy. "And entering into a ship of Adramyttium, we launched," says Luke, "meaning to sail by the coast of Asia. And the next day we touched at Sidon. And Julius courteously entreated Paul, and gave him liberty to go unto his friends to refresh himself." Loosing from Sidon they were forced to sail under the lee of Cyprus, because the winds were contrary, and come to Myra, a city of Lycia. Here the centurion had his prisoners transferred to a ship of Alexandria on her voyage to Italy. In this vessel, after leaving Myra, "they sailed slowly many days," the weather being unfavorable from the first. But running to the leeward of Crete, they safely reached "the Fair Havens."
Winter was now near, and it became a serious question what course should be taken—whether they should remain at Fair Havens for the winter, or seek some better harbor.
Here we must pause for a moment and notice the wonderful position of our apostle in this serious consultation. As before Festus and Agrippa, he appears before the captain, the owner, the centurion, and the whole crew, as having the mind of God. He counsels, directs, and acts, as if he were really the master of the vessel, in place of being a prisoner in the custody of soldiers. He advised that they should remain where they were. He warned them that they would meet with violent weather if they ventured out to the open sea—that much injury would be done to the ship and cargo, and much risk of the lives of those on board. But the master and the owner of the ship, who had the greatest interest in her, were guided by circumstances and not by faith; they were willing to run the risk of seeking a more commodious harbor to winter in, and the centurion naturally deferred to their judgment. All were against the judgment of the man of, faith—the man of God—the man who was speaking and acting for God. Even the circumstances in the scene around them seemed to favor the opinion of the sailors rather than that of the apostle. But nothing can falsify the judgment of faith. It must be true in spite of every circumstance.
It was therefore resolved by the majority that they should leave Fair Havens, and sail to Port Phenice as a more secure winter harbor. The wind changed just at this moment. Everything seemed to favor the sailors. "The south wind blew softly;" so sanguine were they, Luke tells us, that they supposed their purpose was already accomplished. (Ver. 13.) They accordingly weighed anchor and with a soft breeze from the south, the vessel, with her "two hundred threescore and sixteen souls" on board, left the port of Fair Havens. But scarcely had she rounded Cape Matala, a distance of only four or five miles, when a violent wind from the shore caught the vessel, and tossed her in such a manner that it was no longer possible for the helmsman to make her keep her course. And as Luke observes, "We let her drive;" that is, they were compelled to let her run before the wind.
But our chief concern here is with Paul as the man of faith. What must have been the thoughts and feelings now of his fellow-passengers? They had trusted to the wind, and they must now reap the whirlwind. The solemn counsels and warnings of faith had been rejected. Many, alas! heedless of the warning here recorded, and under the flattering wind of favorable circumstances, have launched on the great voyage of life, utterly regardless of the voice of faith. But like the fawning wind that betrayed the vessel from the harbor, all soon changed into a furious tempest on the troubled sea of life.