Acts 27:1–28:31

27:1–12 Sailing for Rome. Chapters 27–28 testify to the accuracy of the Lord’s word to Paul while in Roman custody in Jerusalem: “Take courage, for as you have testified to the facts about me in Jerusalem, so you must testify also in Rome” (23:11). In his record of Paul’s missionary journeys, Luke moves the apostle from place to place relatively quickly, but now, as he sets off on his final trip in this book, the travel narrative slows down, as the dramatic year-long journey is recorded in detail. Luke’s attention to detail about winds, sea routes taken, times of year, people involved, conversations, and gear, rigging, and sails serves to underscore the authenticity of the account and to draw the reader into the drama of the story. Only an eyewitness could write with such specific detail. In Acts, Luke sets out to develop the theology and themes surrounding the first generation of Christians, but he does so as a historian. Nowhere is that role more evident than in the final chapters of Acts. As in the Gospels and other biblical narratives, here theology and history are inseparable. In fact, the theology of the Bible is necessarily historical. For the theology of the Bible to matter, for theology to be true, it must be historical. These things must have taken place; otherwise, our faith is nothing more than wishful thinking.

Luke mentions Aristarchus’s presence on the journey (27:2). His first appearance in the narrative was at Ephesus, where he was seized by a mob (19:29). He survived the riot and appeared again as part of the group traveling with Paul as he made his way to Jerusalem at the end of his third missionary journey (20:4–5). By naming him here, Luke includes another eyewitness to the eventful trip to Rome. Aristarchus is one of the handful of men who remain faithful to Paul to the end. Paul mentions him as his “fellow prisoner” in his letter to the Colossians (4:10) and again at the end of Philemon (vv. 23–24), where Paul also mentions Luke, Mark, Epaphras, and Demas, who later abandoned Paul for whatever the world had to offer (2 Tim. 4:10). As Paul sails for Rome, he is accompanied by at least two men who have been his loyal companions for years and will remain so to the end.

One prominent shipmate is the Roman centurion Julius (Acts 27:1), a member of the Augustan Cohort (a regiment of at least six hundred men, and sometimes more). Julius plays a vital role in the narrative and, in the providence of God, will be instrumental in Paul’s survival (vv. 31, 43). His first act is to allow Paul to see friends at Sidon who take care of his needs (v. 3). Prisoners in the empire relied on friends and family for their well-being.

Verses 4–12 recount the travelers’ slow progress from the very beginning. The inclusion of so many place names emphasizes the difficulty: many delays, redirections, and stops. Luke notes that the time of “the Fast was already over” (v. 9), a reference to the Day of Atonement celebrated in the fall. After that time of year, travel on the Mediterranean is hazardous. The discussion Luke records regarding whether to stay or to make for Phoenix is not merely background detail (vv. 10–12)—it provides a reason for the decisions that will be made in the upcoming storm and subsequent shipwreck.

Paul believes it best to winter in Fair Havens on the south of Crete, an opinion not shared by most of the others. The mention of the pilot and the ship’s owner alludes to the financial concerns regarding the safe passage of the ship. Conventional wisdom says “we need to go” in spite of the possible danger, but Paul—who has experience with shipwrecks (he mentions no fewer than three in 2 Corinthians 11:25)—advises them to stay. But, understandably, they choose not to listen to a prisoner who is on his way to Caesar because of his involvement in some obscure Jewish sect. But they will soon regret ignoring Paul’s advice and will learn not to make the same mistake twice. By including this discussion in the narrative, Luke provides grounds for Julius’s listening to Paul later, when their lives are on the line.

27:13–38 A Dark and Hopeless Storm. Luke’s details draw readers into the terror of a typhoon at sea. He speeds up or slows down according to the portrayed action, adding detail upon detail about the efforts made by the sailors to save the ship, thus emphasizing their desperation amid dire straits. He mentions sailing under the lee of Cauda for temporary relief, hoisting the ship’s boat on board, securing the hull with cables, dropping a sea anchor (“gear”; v. 17),¹ and, soon after, throwing the “ship’s tackle” overboard. In doing so, Luke draws his readers into the danger and near hopelessness of the situation.

Verse 13 begins optimistically: “the south wind blew gently,” and so they assumed it was safe to leave. “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” (vv. 14–15). They are “violently storm-tossed” (v. 18) and so throw over the cargo and later the tackle to lighten the load—the financial loss is nothing compared to a potential loss of life. The climax of the storm comes in verse 20 when, overtaken by darkness, the sun, moon, and stars disappear. This is not an apocalypse, but the intensity of the description is apocalyptic in its affect. There are few, if any, natural disasters more terrifying than being in the open sea, in a hurricane, in near total darkness. No way to escape or hide; no apparent way to survive.

The OT conception and symbol of the sea as a dangerous, deadly, chaotic force, home to the monster Leviathan (see especially Job 41), and controlled only by the God who created it, provides the biblical and theological background for Acts 27 (cf. Job 38:8–11; Ps. 104:24–26; Isa. 51:15), as Luke and especially Paul were likely aware. The intensity of the descriptions, the hopelessness of the storm, and Paul’s total confidence in the outcome allow the whole chapter to come across as a real-life narrative of chaos, the sea, versus the Creator. However, just as in the OT, the outcome in Acts 27 is certain.

The harrowing narrative is broken in verse 21 with what amounts to an “I told you so.” Just in case they forgot, Paul reminds the traveling party that he had warned them not to leave Crete in the first place. However, he is not speaking vindictively or holding this fact over their heads; he is simply stating a fact and also laying a foundation for trusting him the next time, which is exactly what happens. Paul’s confidence that no one will perish, though the ship is doomed, is based on a word he receives from God. An angel appears to Paul, confirming the earlier message from the Lord that he would speak in Rome (cf. 23:11). Paul is a human being, in need of encouragement and reminder. He likely feels what any human would feel in extremely dire and frightening circumstances: fear. But one can have faith and fear simultaneously.

Paul immediately comforts his shipmates by revealing why he is so confident—“for I have faith in God” (v. 25)—and telling them exactly what will happen next. When facing certain death at sea, running aground may not sound like much of a reprieve, but they will survive (v. 26). The strain and anxiety of a fourteen-day storm at sea (v. 27), as well as the likelihood of hitting rocks (v. 29) is, however, too much for some of the sailors, who attempt to make their way in a lifeboat and leave the others to die (v. 30). Their frantic, though understandable, desire to save themselves stands in contrast to Paul’s faith in God. Paul’s proven track record, coupled with his calm assurance that everyone on board will live, makes an impression on Julius—this time he listens.

Julius is now confident enough in Paul that he and the soldiers cut the ropes holding the boat, which falls into the sea (v. 32). Although other explanations are possible, what best fits the flow of the story is to understand that Julius, reflecting on what happened the last time he ignored Paul, and having witnessed Paul’s faith in God in the face of death, believes he should take Paul’s advice. Thus we see God ensuring the fulfillment of his own promise. He does not merely whisk the traveling party supernaturally to safety on angels’ wings; divine promises come with divinely appointed means of fulfillment. God gives the promise, Paul believes it, and Julius becomes the means of fulfilling God’s promise.

At this point Paul essentially becomes the leader of the traveling party—perhaps “captain” is more fitting. He encourages everyone to eat and reassures them of their safety (vv. 33–34). The food is a practical consideration and an example of his genuine concern for their well-being. Paul has a sure word from God that everyone would survive, and he provides the means for its fulfillment. It is not enough to know that they will live; he uses the real means available and necessary for their survival. Again, divine promises are fulfilled by appropriate and appointed ways and means. Although the language in 27:35–36 is similar to NT descriptions of the Lord’s Supper (cf. 1 Cor. 11:23–26), this is not a description of that meal. The closer parallel is Luke 24:30. On the ship Paul reenacts the scene with Jesus, Cleopas, and the other disciple on the evening they walk to Emmaus. That event likewise sounds like the Supper, but Luke does not indicate as much. They say a blessing and give thanks, as Christians and Jews do, before eating.²

Perhaps Paul, Luke, and Aristarchus receive this like the Lord’s Supper (though it is unlikely, and unimportant to the narrative), but it is not presented to the ship’s company, or in the narrative, in that way. The Supper, as a church ordinance, is a symbol of faith in Jesus’ work on the cross and a proclamation of his coming—a ceremony for believers. Luke is not presenting a group of 276 believers (Acts 27:37), much less arguing for public Communion. Giving thanks to God and then breaking bread with those aboard ship is a public witness and testimony both to Paul’s faith in God and to the God in whom he believes. Such is the event Luke links to the general change of heart and mind onboard the ship.

Verses 36–37 are the first climax (there are two) of the narrative—the point where the tension in the story reaches a breaking point, the point at which something has to give and the tension is released.³ When the ship’s company eats its fill and throws the rest overboard, it is time for the story to take a final turn. The ship’s company, numbering 276 persons, “all were encouraged” (vv. 36–37). Paul’s faith in God creates calm in the middle of a hurricane, as attested by the confident throwing overboard of the last of the food (v. 38). There is no need to suppose the 276 people become Christians, but their newfound confidence springing from Paul’s word is linked to action. Verse 42 will certainly show that “all” are not permanently confident in Paul. If they do believe in the moment, some quickly forget.

Nevertheless, the ship’s company as a whole has gone from hopelessness in total darkness, furiously throwing everything in sight overboard, pulling out all of the nautical stops to keep control of the ship, and in some cases attempting to abandon ship to eating a meal together and then further lightening the load by getting rid of the last human hope of survival. The pervasive power of faith and hope in God completely transforms the voyage for the time being. For Paul and his friends (and for believing readers of Acts), the action is analogous to the Israelites’ not holding back manna for the next day but trusting God to do what he had said and to provide for tomorrow; it is analogous to allowing the fruit on the tree to be dedicated to God for a year (Lev. 19:23–25), trusting God rather than the tree for food—the same principle of faith stands behind these multiple examples. Throwing the last bit of food overboard is possible only if one believes that God will keep his word.

27:39–44 Saved by a Shipwreck. Shipwreck and salvation do not typically go hand in hand, but they do so here. The tension has abated and it seems like the drama will resolve—land is sighted; a plan to gain the beach is hatched—but then the story takes one last turn. Luke provides more technical detail concerning the last morning at sea, highlighting the sailors’ skill and experience. In spite of all their efforts to run ashore, however, the front of the ship is lodged on a reef, and its stern begins to break into pieces. Then the Roman soldiers, probably acting according to protocol, decide to kill the prisoners, lest they escape. The soldiers are seeking to avoid the sort of fate suffered by the guards on duty the night Peter escaped, who were ordered to be executed by Herod (Acts 12:19). This is another point of climax in the narrative.

The tension only lasts for one verse, however, as Julius once again steps in to save Paul. This serves as yet more evidence of the compatibility and necessary relationship between divine promise and the means of its fulfillment. Julius views Paul as more than just another prisoner—he has been kind to Paul since the beginning of the trip (cf. 27:3). In all likelihood he is a genuinely congenial man; perhaps that is unusual for a centurion, which is why Luke mentions his disposition toward Paul. But Julius must also recall Paul’s prediction that they would survive but run aground (vv. 25–26), as well as his word that unless everyone stayed on the boat, Julius would not be saved (v. 31). Whatever he remembers, believes, or knows, he saves Paul’s life, and this is the unmistakable theme in this portion of Acts. The chapter ends with the survivors—all 276, as promised—floating to shore on whatever wreckage scraps are available. They are safe, though still a long way from Rome.

28:1–10 Doing Good to All on Malta. The sailing party learns it has washed ashore on Malta (v. 1). They are greeted and welcomed by indigenous or “native people” (Gk. barbaroi, v. 2; cf. ESV mg.; to translate with the English word “barbarian” is misleading because it implies those who are uncivilized and backward, whereas Luke is simply distinguishing the Maltese from Greek speakers). Shortly thereafter, Paul is bitten by a snake (v. 3), which he quickly shakes off into a fire (v. 5). The locals immediately assume anyone who survives a shipwreck only to be bitten by a snake is not just having a bad day but is being punished for his crimes (v. 4), as other legends taught.⁴ Thinking Paul is a criminal, they believe that Paul has not escaped “Justice” (v. 4; capitalized as referring to a Roman goddess who ensured that criminals got what they deserved).

The locals are understandably surprised when Paul does not swell up and die. Some modern scholars have pointed out that there are no poisonous snakes on Malta today, although it is impossible to say with any certainty what species of snake inhabited Malta two millennia ago or may have otherwise been present in a stack of kindling. The Maltese in the narrative, who would know better than anyone else, clearly believe the snake to be dangerous enough to kill Paul. Thus they are surprised when he survives, and for the second time in the narrative Paul is identified as a god because of a supernatural event (v. 6; cf. his experience at Lystra, where he and Barnabas are called Hermes and Zeus because Paul heals a man with lame feet; 14:9–12).

The text does not explicitly state that Paul disputes the claim, but readers of Acts should have no doubt that Paul denies personal divine power or identity. At Lystra a mob developed that almost offered sacrifices outside the temple of Zeus as an act of worship toward Paul and Barnabas. Here no worship is offered, and it is safe to assume from Paul’s behavior elsewhere in Acts that he goes on to explain the situation to the locals during the time he spends with them.

Verses 7–10 illustrate the first part of Paul’s command to “do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith” (Gal. 6:10) while also demonstrating the potential and necessity for gospel-influenced ministry alongside gospel proclamation. The good news of the risen Lord Jesus who brings life to the dead must also be shown in action. Paul no doubt shares the gospel verbally with the Maltese (none of the apostles perform works but leave people to interpret those works however they will), but Luke makes no record of preaching on the island. He always mentions the apostles’ preaching ministry when recording any significant interaction or exposure with local people groups—the only times preaching is not mentioned in the book is when Luke is narrating travel itineraries, and even then it is common for him to mention Paul or the others encouraging and strengthening the churches. But why not here?

We should consider how Paul’s ministry on Malta mirrors most clearly the ministry of Jesus, especially when the Gospel writer—particularly Luke—put special emphasis on his acts of healing, exorcism, and feeding in the greater context of his teaching ministry (e.g., Luke 4:38–41; 5:12–16; 7:1–17; 8:26–39, 40–55; 9:10–17, 37–43; 13:10–17; 18:35–43). In Jesus’ ministry, miracles serve as signs confirming his authority and messiahship. But that does not discount the real emphasis on Jesus’ ministering to the real, physical needs of those around him, nor does it make the miracles mere window dressing for his teaching. His miracles confirm his teaching and identity as necessary signs of fulfillment.

In Jesus’ inaugural sermon (Luke 4:14–30) he quotes Isaiah 61:1–2, which explicitly links proclamation of the good news with signs of the new era: he is called “to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” (Luke 4:18–19). “Liberty” has a larger spiritual connotation, as does “recovering of sight,” but the signs Jesus works are not performed merely for their spiritual significance. In fact, Jesus does not make the spiritual/physical distinctions that we tend to make, and he certainly does not worry that his good works for the poor, sick, and demon-possessed might cross the line into social gospel. For Jesus, the two go hand in hand.

Signs are also explicitly named in Luke as essential parts of Jesus’ messiahship when John the Baptist, in prison and wondering about Jesus, sends his disciples to ask Jesus if he is really the one, the Messiah (Luke 7:18–35). Jesus answers with evidence, immediately healing all sorts of people and then giving John’s envoys a message: “Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, the poor have good news preached to them. And blessed is the one who is not offended by me” (Luke 7:22–23). Rather than serving as simple proofs, these miraculous signs are integral elements of the coming of the promised Messiah and the kingdom of God.

Miraculous signs continue in Jesus’ ongoing work through the apostles in Acts, such as Peter’s healing a lame man outside the Beautiful Gate (Acts 3:2) or the multiple other healings performed by the apostles in Jerusalem (5:12–16), which include others’ bringing their sick to the apostles for healing, just as the Maltese bring their sick to Paul. Paul’s ministry includes miracles as well (16:18; 20:10–12), and on Malta that aspect receives special emphasis. Luke focuses here specifically on Paul’s works likely because by now proclamation is always implied, and he is placing Paul firmly in the gospel-ministry pattern set by Jesus and the other apostles. Although it is easy to skip over these verses quickly and regard them as simply more miracles, they are far more than that. When placed in the context of Jesus’ and the apostles’ ministry, these miracles are signs of continuity and power, testifying to the good news, the gospel of Jesus Christ, who came to proclaim the fulfillment of God’s promise and then rose from the dead and ascended into heaven, commissioning his disciples to follow in his footsteps by preaching his gospel and doing good to all.

Even after many harrowing days and weeks at sea, a shipwreck, and a snake bite, Paul continues to minister. Any of those events might cause us to think that some time off is more than justified. But Paul has an opportunity to help a horribly sick local leader, and he takes it. He prays over him (no doubt explicitly and aloud), lays hands on him, and heals him, which leads to all sorts of opportunities to do the same for others (28:8–9). These locals provide an example of a welcoming people group. Not only do they welcome and help the survivors (v. 2); they repay Paul’s kindness with honor and provisions (v. 10). Paul recognizes this kindness and openness as an open door for ministry. Luke notes no conversions, but he does make clear that they leave an excellent impression. History does not record the full story of the events on Malta or if other Christians arrived soon after. If they did, they no doubt found a welcoming and receptive audience. The seeds, at least, were planted by Paul.

28:11–16 Finally to Rome. Luke notes that the ship that takes them from Malta sports on its “figurehead” the twin gods Castor and Pollux (v. 11), Greek gods believed to protect sailing ships, provide good winds, and help shipwrecked sailors. In legend, they were onboard Jason’s fated ship the Argo. Luke has made it abundantly clear that it is God who has protected the ship’s company because of his faithfulness to his promise that Paul would travel to Rome, and he notes the irony of the image of twin gods on the ship bound for Rome. No credit is due to fate or the gods. It is the Lord who has promised, provided for, and protected them on the trip to Rome, in spite of the difficulties.

Several stops on the itinerary are mentioned, as is the relative ease with which they now move along (vv. 12–13). Luke also notes the presence of believers at Puteoli (v. 14). It is unknown how these believers have come to be there; perhaps they were part of the expulsion from Rome under Claudius that brought Aquila and Priscilla to Corinth (18:2), or perhaps other Christian missionaries reached them. We know there is a significant population of believers in Rome, for Paul sends them a major letter; Luke mentions such Roman Christians who come out to greet them as they approach the city (28:15). Thus the gospel has already traveled throughout the Mediterranean all the way to the capital of the Roman Empire, the political, social, and cultural center of the Western world—practically speaking, the ends of the earth.

28:17–31 The Kingdom to the Ends of the Earth. In Rome, Paul is placed under house arrest, guarded by one soldier (v. 16). This allows him to welcome visitors and preach openly. According to the church historian Eusebius, writing in roughly the first quarter of the fourth century AD and citing traditional accounts, Paul was released from this first imprisonment and later arrested again and subsequently martyred (Ecclesiastical History 2.22, 25). This tradition is perhaps supported by the first letter of the early church father Clement, which implies that Paul went further than Rome (1 Clem. 5:7). This epistle is dated before the end of the first century, lending credence to the account. Church historians differ in their interpretations of these early documents, but as helpful as they are, the text of Acts itself (and whatever light the rest of the NT sheds on it) is the chief concern of the Christian preacher.

Neither First Timothy nor Titus mentions the same dire circumstances described in 2 Timothy 4, nor do the other letters associated with Paul’s imprisonment in Rome (Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, and Philemon). Philemon implies, at the very least, that Paul anticipates being released (v. 22). The larger NT witness is most significant for dealing with questions of historical reliability, coherence, and timeline, but from a literary standpoint—which should always be the primary focus of interpreters and preachers, as God chose to give his people the book of Acts as literature—it is Luke’s text that matters most. As important as these other questions may be, and as much as they have their place, they should not distract from greater concerns.

Paul has his last meetings with Jews in Rome. He recounts his experience in Jerusalem, pointing out his innocence in committing no wrongs against his fellow Jews or Jewish teaching. He even reveals that the Roman authorities found nothing for which to charge him with a capital offense; the only reason he is in Rome is because he was forced to appeal to Caesar to avoid the baseless charges of the Jews (Acts 28:17–19). Paul, in the tradition of Jesus, has refused to bring counter charges against his accusers. He notes what Luke makes clear—the Jews opposing Paul are the ones breaking the law, for it is they who do not understand or believe the Scriptures. They bring baseless charges and blatantly break their own legal procedures in their efforts to persecute, seize, and ultimately kill Paul. For his part, he will not turn the tables on them and bring charges.

Paul’s goal with the Roman Jews is to bring his side of the case before them, not simply to clear his name but to present the gospel. Thus his strategy in Rome is basically the same as it has been elsewhere: to begin with his Jewish countrymen. But since he cannot go to the synagogue, he brings the synagogue to himself. Not only does he mention that “it is because of the hope of Israel that I am wearing this chain” (v. 20); he desires to uphold Jesus as the fulfillment of all of the Scriptures (v. 23). Jesus’ teaching on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24), which was learned and followed consistently by all of the apostles in Acts, is the driving focus to the end of the narrative. This observation should inform and instruct all who would follow in the preaching tradition of the apostles.

For the first time in years, Paul meets Jews who have no knowledge of his experience or history, nor firsthand knowledge of his teaching. They have only heard of this “sect” that is condemned elsewhere, and they want to hear Paul’s teaching (Acts 28:22). Even without the background, however, the results are the same: some believe, while others do not. Paul, following the example of Jesus (Luke 8:10; cf. Matt. 13:14–15; Mark 4:12), cites Isaiah 6 to account for this disbelief. The disbelieving Jews have eyes to see the signs and ears to hear the message, but their hearts are dull—hard—so they do not see or hear the work of God right in front of them. They will not repent, though God is willing to heal them. Acts ends in a triumph known and measured only by faith, but before it does there is this note of horrible tragedy.

In terms of biblical narrative, this is the end of the line. Acts 28:28 is attached to the Isaiah quotation to capture not only the pattern of Acts but also the larger biblical-theological reality Paul develops in his letter to the Romans. The Jews’ rejection of God reaches a climax that both leads to and is accelerated by the promise going to the Gentiles (Rom. 11:11, 18–19). There is ultimate hope for a remnant of the Jews, but the Jews’ rejection of God is a necessary part of the plan for saving the Gentiles. The story of the good news of Jesus with regard to the Jews throughout Acts, which is a continuation of the story that began in the Gospels, ends with a dramatic statement of condemnation. It is a narrative form of exactly what Paul describes in Romans 9–11. In Acts we find a final, conclusive word about the Jews’ rejection coupled with a word of hope for the Gentiles. This ending is similar to that of the parable of the prodigal son, in which the elder brother is outside, refusing to come in and join the party welcoming his younger brother.

The story does not end here, however. Salvation will go to the Gentiles, and they will accept it. The journey to the ends of the earth will continue. The story also ends with a particularly biblical view of victory. What might appear on the surface as a note of hopelessness—imprisonment for one of the main characters in the narrative and one of the main leaders of the new “sect”—is interpreted as entirely positive and even victorious. Paul spends his imprisonment “proclaiming the kingdom of God and teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ with all boldness and without hindrance” (Acts 28:31). Acts began with the teaching, establishing, and proclaiming of the kingdom of God. Throughout the narrative the kingdom prospers in spite of persecution, violence, murder, imprisonment, official and unofficial opposition, mobs, hurricanes, and shipwrecks. That is not the whole story, however. The kingdom does not grow merely in spite of suffering; it succeeds and is fulfilled through suffering. Suffering is the entrance to the kingdom of God, a kingdom that continues in “boldness and without hindrance” until the return of the King.