An Inevitable Crash | Sunday, February 28, 2021

And when it was decided that we should sail to Italy, they delivered Paul and some other prisoners to one named Julius, a centurion of the Augustan Regiment. So, entering a ship of Adramyttium, we put to sea, meaning to sail along the coasts of Asia. Aristarchus, a Macedonian of Thessalonica, was with us. (Acts 27:1–2)

When the collision is unavoidable and the path is out of your hands, you can still trust the One who planned the path.

An Inevitable Crash

I hope you don't mind if I slightly deviate from our text this week. We were going to be in Deuteronomy, but I want to share a message this morning out of the New Testament book of Acts. It's a text I've taught from before, but it has been on my heart this last week as I've been working through it for a class I'm presently in. As I look at this passage and at life in 2021—and over the last year—one thing becomes clear: sometimes a crash is inevitable.

Years ago I was driving in south Louisiana, just north of New Orleans, completing a long day of driving in torrential rain. Being from San Diego, I'll admit we San Diegans aren't exactly the best at driving in the rain. We don't get much of it, and that's part of the allure of the area—but it means we hold the record for the most accidents in a single hour in the United States, and of course it was during an hour of rain.

I was merging from one highway to another, accelerating to get up to the speed of traffic, when I felt that unsettling feeling from the rear tires as the truck lost traction and began to hydroplane. My dad had once told me that if you ever find yourself sliding in the snow or hydroplaning in the rain, you need to steer into the slide. I don't recall exactly how I reacted, but clearly not the right way, because very quickly the vehicle was spinning across the lanes into oncoming traffic. In that moment it was clear: a crash was inevitable. I ultimately crashed right into the side of a late-model Ford Thunderbird. Once I lost control, there was nothing I could do to avoid the collision.

When a Crash Is Coming

Every one of us has a story like that. I was recently speaking with a friend who had seen a 1,500% increase in an investment over the last dozen years—from tens of thousands up to nearly a million dollars. He's not an investment advisor or a market watcher; he simply put the money in about twelve years ago. But he told me he's pulling it out because he's concerned a crash is inevitable. He may be right or wrong—I'm certainly not your investment advisor. A number of people made out well doing the same thing just before the dot-com bust of the early 2000s. And if you've seen The Big Short, you know names like Michael Burry and Mark Baum did the same just before the subprime fiasco of 2008 and 2009. They could see a crash was inevitable.

The apostle Paul, nearly 2,000 years ago, could see the very same thing. He was on a ship being extradited from Caesarea in Israel to Rome. The story of this collision is recorded in Acts 27 and a bit more in Acts 28.

How Paul Got on That Ship

Paul's collision story began several chapters—and several years—before. After years of Spirit-guided and divinely successful ministry among the cities of Greece, Macedonia, and Asia Minor, Paul was on a journey back to Jerusalem. He carried a benevolence offering from the Christians of those regions for the believers in Jerusalem who were suffering through a famine, and he intended to celebrate Pentecost there—for all intents and purposes, the birthday of the church.

Throughout his final journey, at virtually every place he stopped, the Christians pleaded with Paul to change his plans. They prophesied that chains and tribulations awaited him in Jerusalem. And just as they foretold, an uproar arose in the city, and through a chain of events Paul found himself no longer a free man. He came under Roman custody and underwent a multi-year trial, which ended with his appeal to the highest authority of the day—the Roman emperor. Though everyone who examined his case agreed he had done nothing deserving of death or chains, he would still have to bring his case to Caesar.

Our Path Is Planned for Us

What is fascinating about this passage is how specific Luke is in chronicling the time and location of these events—so specific that even non-Christian historians use it to understand ancient Mediterranean shipping. From the names and temporal markers, we can determine that this voyage likely began about mid-August of A.D. 60.

But notice the words of verse 1: "And when it was decided that we should sail to Italy." Though Paul is at center stage, sometimes our path is planned for us. Sometimes we have no say in what is going on. Even when we can see an inevitable crash and would desire to avoid it, it is entirely out of our hands, because we are not ultimately in control. I don't know about you, but I don't like being out of control. I don't think I'm a control freak, but I don't like it.

As you follow the story, you realize Paul is in many ways just a passenger. He's at the center of the drama, but he's not at the helm. And here's the key: though the path was planned for Paul and he was not in control, neither were those who appeared to be in control—the centurion guarding him, the soldiers, the merchants, the helmsman, the ship's owner. None of them were really in control either.

Be of Good Cheer

To understand Acts 27 and 28, we need to back up to the reassuring word Paul received when all this chaos began. Early in his incarceration in Jerusalem, when his life was first threatened and his future was uncertain, God gave him an assurance:

Be of good cheer, Paul; for as you have testified for Me in Jerusalem, so you must also bear witness at Rome. (Acts 23:11)

I said sometimes our path is planned for us, but if you're taking notes, remove the word "sometimes" and just write that our path is planned for us. That was Paul's assurance as he lived through this multi-year storm, careening toward a shipwreck in Acts 27 and a jail cell in Rome in Acts 28.

Say what you will about the sovereignty of God—some Christians hold a very strong view, others a softer one—the picture the Scriptures give us in these final chapters of Acts is that God is doing something, and He knows what He's doing even when it isn't clear to us. This is a true encouragement to me in all we've experienced as individuals, communities, and churches over the last year.

Man Plans, God Laughs

I'm reminded of the 3,000-year-old wisdom of Solomon:

A man's heart plans his way, but the LORD directs his steps. (Proverbs 16:9)

My pastor growing up and starting out in ministry, Pastor Pat Kenny, had a magnet on the side of a metal filing cabinet that said, "Man plans, God laughs." That may be hard for us, but it can also be a peace-inducing reality.

In Philippians, Paul writes of the peace of God that surpasses understanding. He wrote those words after this ill-fated voyage. Where do you think he learned of that understanding-surpassing peace? Right here, in the midst of storms.

The LORD directs our steps, so why try to understand everything along the way? (Proverbs 20:24, NLT)

I've wrestled with that for a long time. I'm constantly trying to understand everything along the way, and I have to remind myself that the Lord is directing things and the path is planned for me. The question is: can I enjoy the ride even when it feels like I'm hydroplaning toward a collision?

Learning to Walk by Faith

The planner of our path—God—has a plan much bigger than the one we would plan for ourselves. Can you trust that this is true? That's what disciples of Jesus learn every single day. As we walk with the Lord, we're learning to trust Him, learning to live by faith and not by sight. That's a difficult lesson, and maybe you've felt the difficulty of it over the last year. I certainly have. But there's no other way to be pleasing to God, for the author of Hebrews tells us, "without faith it is impossible to please Him" (Hebrews 11:6). If we want to please God, we must learn to trust Him and walk by faith.

A Familiar Voyage

Paul, Luke, and another Christian from Thessalonica named Aristarchus set out from Caesarea about mid-August of A.D. 60, bound for Rome. It's amazing to me, because I had the huge privilege of following almost this identical route at the end of 2019. Pastor David Guzik of Enduring Word, my friend Lance Ralston who pastors Calvary Chapel in Oxnard, and I led a group of over a hundred people—including my wife and parents—on a Mediterranean cruise. The ship sailed from Israel to Cyprus to Malta and ultimately to Rome. Coincidentally, while traveling from Cyprus to Malta, we hit a storm and had a couple of rough days at sea. Our trip was far shorter and far more comfortable than Paul's, but it was striking to see what those seas would have looked like at the same time of year, while we worked through this very passage.

"Men, You Should Have Listened to Me"

This journey was not going the way the helmsman anticipated. Paul, by this time, had already experienced shipwrecks before. He wasn't a sailor by trade, but he had a little oceanic PTSD, you might say. Before the storm, he warned the sailors:

Men, I perceive that this voyage will end with disaster and much loss, not only of the cargo and ship, but also our lives. (Acts 27:10)

The seasoned sailors didn't listen, which leads to one of my favorite things from Paul in the whole book of Acts—an apostolic "I told you so":

Men, you should have listened to me, and not have sailed from Crete and incurred this disaster and loss. And now I urge you to take heart, for there will be no loss of life among you, but only of the ship. For there stood by me this night an angel of the God to whom I belong and whom I serve, saying, "Do not be afraid, Paul; you must be brought before Caesar; and indeed God has granted you all those who sail with you." Therefore take heart, men, for I believe God that it will be just as it was told me. However, we must run aground on a certain island. (Acts 27:21–26)

Again, in the midst of the storm, as the crash loomed and the collision was inevitable, Paul received the reassuring word from God, with which he was able to reassure others.

Storms Meant for the Salvation of Others

Here is the key, which became clear to Paul and which I hope you can hold on to: the storms God leads us into are intended for His purposes—to bring salvation to others. There were 276 persons aboard that ship. The merchants and soldiers didn't listen to the prisoner named Paul early in the voyage. But as they journeyed through the storm and watched him keep peace in the midst of it, Paul gained credibility—and with it, the opportunity to speak evangelistically to everyone on board.

Our path is planned for us. Ephesians 2:10 says God has prepared good works for us to walk in. Sometimes that path takes us right through huge storms, but those storms are intended for His purposes and to bring salvation to others. This was true in the story of Joseph in Genesis, and it's true here in Acts 27, and it's true in our lives as well.

If you can receive it, the circumstance you're facing right now—the storm that seems to be leading to an inevitable crash—God meant it for good, in order, as it is this day, to save many people alive.

Closing Prayer

Father, I pray that You would help us take to heart this passage and this story, and learn the lessons from them—that You have a path You have ordered for us. We have plans for ourselves, but You have a path, and sometimes it takes us through challenging circumstances. Ultimately You want to use those circumstances to bring honor and glory to Your name and to make us stand out as a light.

So Lord, as we go through challenging circumstances, through storms, through dark times, through valleys, I pray You would use those things in our lives—as we follow You, trusting You, not walking by sight but by faith—to cause us to shine brightly, that people would see our good works and glorify You. I pray for my brothers and sisters, that You would encourage them with this word and strengthen our faith, that we would be pleasing to You by our trust. We pray this in Jesus' name. Amen.