S. LIFE' STORMY SEA
LIFE’S STORMY SEA Dr. W. A. Criswell Acts 27:1-44 05-23-54
You are listening to the services of the First Baptist Church in downtown Dallas, Texas. And this is the pastor bringing the morning message entitled: LIFE’S STORMY SEA. In our preaching through the Word, we have come to Acts 27:1-44. In all of ancient literature, Phoenician, Greek, Roman, Oriental, there is no passage like this passage. It is the finest written account of a storm at sea, the voyage of a Mediterranean ship, to be found any where in the ancient literature of the world. And it is not only the inspired Word of God, it is also magnificent writing. It is literature. Now, I will not read the entire chapter though the message today is built on all of it-all of the chapter. But I shall read certain passages, and if you have it in your Bible, we shall designate them by verses.
Acts 27:1 : “And when it was determined that we should sail into Italy”-Paul had appealed unto Caesar, so to Caesar he was to go. He was on trial for his life. And he appealed to the supreme court of the Roman Empire. Being a Roman citizen, he had a right to do it. So he is being sent to Rome as a prisoner to appear before Italy, the Roman Empire’s highest court. “When it was determined that we should sail into Italy, they delivered Paul and certain other prisoners unto one named Julius, a centurion of Augustus’s band. And entering into a ship of Adramyttium”-a town-“we launched, meaning to sail by the coasts of Asia” [Acts 27:1-2]. And so they start out. They go this way in order to go that way because of the prevailing winds.
Now, let us go down to Acts 27:8 : “And, hardly passing it”-a little island there-“they came unto a place”-in Crete-“which is called the Fair Havens. Now when much time was spent, and when sailing was now dangerous, because the fast” -that is the Jewish Day of Atonement in the fall, and winter time was coming-“and now when sailing was dangerous, because the fast was now already past, Paul admonished them saying, Sirs, I perceive that this journey will be with hurt and much damage, not only of the lading and ship, but also of our lives. Nevertheless, the centurion”-being the highest Roman officer, was in command of the ship, even though he was not a sea faring man, the centurion, the officer of the army-“believed the master and the owner of the ship, more than those things which were spoken of by Paul” [Acts 27:8-11]. The thirteenth verse: “And when the south wind blew softly, supposing they had obtained their purpose,” they left Crete, and sailed out into the open sea. “But not long after there arose against it a tempestuous wind called Euroclydon. And the ship was caught, and could not bear up into the wind, we let her drive” before the wind-[it was] all they could do. Now Acts 27:18 - And we being exceeding tossed with the tempest; . . . And the third day we cast out with our own hand the tackling of the ship. And when neither sun nor stars in many days appeared and no small tempest lay on us, all hope that we should be saved was then taken away. But after long abstinence, Paul stood forth in the midst of them, and said, Sirs, . . .
I exhort you to be of good cheer: for there shall be no loss of any man’s life among you, only of the ship. For there stood by me this night the angel of God, . . .
Saying, Fear not, Paul, . . .
Wherefore, sirs, be of good cheer: for I believe God [Acts 27:18-25].
Now Acts 27:38 : And when they had eaten enough, they lighted the ship and cast out the wheat into the sea.
Then they had taken up the anchors, they committed themselves [unto the sea], . . . And falling into a place where two seas met, they ran the ship aground; and the forepart stuck fast and remained unmovable, but the hind part was broken with the violence of the waves. And the soldiers’ counsel was to kill the prisoners, lest any of them should swim out and escape [Acts 27:38-42]. That was the thing always done. But the centurion, willing to save Paul, kept them from their purpose and commanded that they could swim, to cast themselves first into the sea and get to land: And the rest, some on boards and some on broken pieces of ship. And so it came to pass, that they escaped, all safe to land [Acts 27:43-44]. The next day, found it was a little isle of what we call Malta today, just south of Sicily.
All of us are familiar perhaps with the poet and with the parable and with the simile and with the metaphor, when we refer to life in sea-faring terms. It is a sailing on the ocean of life. All of us who never have written a line of poetry, who do not go out of our way to speak in parables, who are not given to simile or metaphor, yet we talk like sea-faring, sea-going people ourselves. There could possibly not be a more common nomenclature than that we use in ordinary vernacular when we refer to life as a sea-going trip. It is an ocean experience-launching our little boat on the sea of life, hoping some day to bring it to anchor in the desired port. I say, that is a common parlance and speech among us. On this sea of life we are so often times beguiled and mislead. And when the soft wind-and when the south wind blew softly, when the south wind blows softly, ah, how many times are we beguiled and mislead. The centurion said, “The voyage is filled with light and with fair skies, and with clear nights, and with soft breezes. And the journey will be easy and happy and full of light and laugher and lift and gladness. Come, come. And the master of the ship, the captain of the boat, when the soft south wind blew so gently said, It will be a pleasant journey. The whole way with a myriad sea, with fair skies, no fog, no reef, no rocks, no shoals, no tempest, and no storms-for the south wind blows softly. And the owner of the ship, the man who had the biggest stake in it, when the wind blew softly from the south, he said, The voyage will be one delightful, happy, glad. See the fair haven? See the beautiful journey? Come, let us launch out for the journey. We will be without mishap or accident and dreaded euroclydon and dreaded tempest and awful storm, they will not hit our little boat. Come and let us sail away into the beautiful mirror of the sea, for the wind from the south blows softly.
Isn’t it too bad? Right in the midst there stands the preacher of God. He is always standing there. And he is always speaking. And his message is always so grim. We do not like him. We do not like to listen to him. We do not like his words and we do not like his message. This man Micaiah said Ahab, I hate him. My soul loathes him. He never speaks anything but things bad. He never prophesies good. I hate him. And when Micaiah stood up in your Sunday school lesson, when Micaiah stood up and said, And Ahab, you will not come back. Ahab said: You take him and put him in prison and feed him with bread of affliction and water of affliction until I come again in triumph and in victory. And when he came again, they took his dead corpse and buried it and washed the chariot of his blood. Isn’t it funny? They did exactly as old Elijah said, They washed the chariot in the place where Naboth fell under his hand and where the dogs licked up Naboth’s blood and there the dogs licked Ahab’s blood [1Ki 21:19]. Micaiah: I do not like him. I do not like him. Grim preacher of God, I do not like him. He prophesies evil and bad. You see the preacher stands up and he says, Life is not a sailing on mirrored seas under fair skies to some fair haven of a port. The grim preacher stands up and he says, Life is not an excursion among the beautiful island seas of the Mediterranean, following away its creeks and coves and its base. The preacher stands up grim and unwelcome and he says, Life is not some romantic journey, up and down some beautiful clyde or up and down some glorious ride. The grim preacher stands up and he says, Sir, I perceive that this voyage will be with great hurt-the tempest, the storm, the roaring reefs, the sunken rocks, the terrible fogs, the awful driving, raging wind-Sir, I perceive that the voyage is greatly dangerous. And isn’t that true? Isn’t that true? Do you know the sailing of life’s sea, where the boats launch and the soft wind blows, and out in the open ocean the little boat is sailing away? But do you know a life that does not have its euroclydon? Do you know a life where the terrible tempest doesn’t rise? Where the storms do not beat? And where the sun goes out and the stars disappear? You hear the roar of the preacher and the great swelling tide as they cover the rocks and the reef. Do you know a life that does not have its storms and its peril? And you know what? Let us take just a little segment, a little segment, a little segment.
Let us start with last Wednesday and go through last Friday-just a little segment of the journey, of this trip. From Los Angeles to Chicago, for six and half hours, last Wednesday, I road on the plane with General Omar Bradley. General Wright as you well know, he was the commanding general of the armies that were thrown against Hitler in Europe. He was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff; that guided the course of the Korean War-a five star general. Talking to him so long for six and half hours, I learned a great deal with him, especially since I am a preacher-talking about lots of things. One of the great men of the world, one of the famous men of history-General Bradley. He will be in Dallas in about a week or so from now. Why, you think a man like that, so high, so elevated-five star-they have a daughter, he and his wife. They have a daughter married to a test pilot with three little children. As we rode along on the plane, he said, “Not very long ago, my son-in-law was killed. The jet he was testing exploded and he was killed. And now, in my home,” he said, “my daughter lives and three little fatherless children.” He paused a long time and looked way out into the distance through the windows of the plane. He turned to me and added, “I am an old man to be rearing three little children. Don’t you think? Don’t you think? Don’t you think?” Euroclydon-and the storm, that is life. That is life.
Friday, I was walking down the main boulevard in the city of Detroit. There was a woman walking down the street. She had a purse hanging on her arm and a few packages on her hand-beautifully dressed, walking down so happily. I suppose she had been shopping. I do not know what for. Maybe she was going to get married and she was shopping for her wedding day. Maybe she was a young mother and was shopping for her little baby. Maybe she was going on a long trip and was getting ready for a happy vacation. Going down the boulevard, there at the corner of the street where I was, she turned and walked through the boulevard on that one side to the island where the buss and the street car stopped. She walked onto the island and then beyond the island on the other side of the boulevard to cross the street. And down that boulevard a big brand new car was driving at a terrific rate. And I do not know what happened. I do not know what happened. All I know, is I have not gotten over it yet. It made me sick and faint inside. That fast car hit that woman and knocked her through the air and way out beyond into the street, down the street. And we did not dare touch her. You are not supposed to. But it just kills me to see her writhe there in agony in the street; try to get up and could not. Ah, Euroclydon. The storms, the strifes out of the blue of the sky when the wind from the south blows softly. But if you live or die, I do not know. That is life. That is life.
I say we take just one little section of it. When my plane was met by a special representative in order to take me to the convention to speak, I was late [and had] given up hope of being able to speak. But American Airlines was nice and they radioed ahead, and had a man right there and my baggage and every thing open and right to the convention. A wonderful man met me, an executive in Detroit of the public transportation system-a wonderful fellow, one of the finest Christians I ever knew. And he has two little children, wonderful children. And a wonderful wife, a glorious Christian wife. Devoted-such a wonderful Christian family. I have seen his children. They were with him. I did not have his wife with him. He just told me about her. He is a younger man than I am, just getting along wonderfully in the city of Detroit. So he brought his wife to see me Friday night. And I shook hands with her and visited with her. She is a young woman, a beautiful woman, and a glorious Christian woman. She is blind. I did not have the temerity. I did not ask why. I did ask, have the temerity to say to her husband, “How long has she been blind?” And he said, “Two years ago. Two years ago.“ When the soft wind blew on the day of their marriage and that they lost their little boat on the sea of life, and a grim preacher stood up and spoke of some of those things I would dare say that they would laugh. It would have been hard to realize. She is blind-blind.
Just one other. Just take this little piece out of a journey. The man that took me to the airport Saturday for me to come back to Dallas to preach, that man is a wonderful Christian man. When we got to the airport [he was] physically shaken and changed. You know how you go along right down the expressway and you laugh and talk and you visit? He just drew suddenly still and heavy-hearted. Well, I had to say something; so this was it. He had been to that airport, about thirty miles at Willow Run, about thirty miles to the city. He had been to that airport just about a week before. And you know why he was out there? He had gone out there to the airport to meet the rest of his family. He and his wife had a nineteen-year-old boy that was in school-being educated to be a preacher, a preacher. And the boy took leukemia and suddenly died. And he had been there just a week before to meet the rest of the family for the memorial service for his boy. That is life. That is life. And the preacher says-the preacher stands up and says, “It is not a fair sailing.” There are rocks and there are shoals and there are reefs and there are tempests and there is Euroclydon that comes suddenly, unannounced, unlooked for, unexpected, and it drives the little ship before it. And when those things come to pass, how we reevaluate everything we have ever looked for and longed for and loved in this life.
Look at these men. And as the ship was driven, “the third day, we cast out with our own hands the tackling of the ship” [Acts 27:19]. Now again, and when they sought to lighten the boat with their own hands, “they cast out the wheat into the sea” [Acts 27:38]. That was good wheat. Good wheat. Good wheat. The ship was made to carry that wheat. The purpose of the journey was to deliver that wheat. Rome could not support itself and could not raise enough food around Rome to support the imperial city. And the granary of the imperial city was in Egypt. And this was a ship from Alexandria, carrying wheat from Alexandria to Rome for Caesar and his imperial golden city. The ship was made to carry wheat, good wheat. That was the purpose of the voyage. That was the purpose of the trip. And yet, this Book says that with their own hand they took that wheat and cast it into the sea. It was only incidental that Paul was there. That the Roman centurion was there, that the prisoners were there. The purpose of the ship was to deliver that wheat. And yet, the Bible says, with their own hand they took it and threw it out into the sea. They forgot they were traders. They forgot they were ship masters. They forgot they are buyers and sellers. Just one thing in the terrible storm-that they might be saved.
Aren’t we like that? When I was a boy, a long time ago, I read a cartoon, “Mutt and Jeff.” Mutt and Jeff had been told that way over the sea there was-there was a country where diamonds were like rocks on the ground. You just went out and gathered them-just picked them up. So they outfitted a boat and went across the sea and there in the beautiful valley, the diamonds were like rocks strewn on the ground. Such a day, such a time, you never thought for, never dreamed of. Only a cartoonist thought that such a thing like that could ever live or exist. So he drew that valley there with diamonds outcropping, just blocks everywhere, and they were all solid diamonds. Well, Mutt and Jeff-Mutt and Jeff gathered all of the diamonds that their ship could hold. [They] filled their ship full of diamonds and were headed back towards civilization. A storm hit the boat. A storm hit the boat. [It] always does. A storm arose and hit the ship, and they were stranded out in the middle of the sea on a little wooden raft. And the end of that picture, those diamonds were on that raft. They were rolling off into the sea, forgotten, neglected, unwanted, uncared for. And in the middle of the raft was Mutt and Jeff dying and thirsty for a glass of water-a glass of water. Isn’t that life? All of these things we moved out for, that we seek to grasp. All of these ambitions and aims, all of those great goals, these things we dream about, trade our life and days for. By and by they turn to ashes and dust in our hands. Who wants them? Who cares for them? And it has been when life is gripping us and the ship is going down, it has been because for that same grim preacher of God. Where is the mariner? Where is the centurion? Where is the master of the ship? Where is the owner of it? Oh, owner of the ship, come and tell us now, what shall we do? And how shall it be? You were the one that said the sea will be as glass. And the wind from the south blows softly. What say you now? Centurion, owner of the ship, scientist, professor, learned scholar, infidel and unbeliever and agnostic, you are the ones that have told us all of this voyage shall be beautiful and fine and wonderful and full of happiness and gladness and joy. And the wind blows softly. And what say you now? The tempest is upon us. And we stand in the peril of our lives what say you now? There is not anybody that has anything to say but that grim preacher of God, who when the journey was started said, “Down the way are the blows reefs and the sunken rocks. Down the way is Euroclydon. Down the way is the wind and the tempest.”
You know, right here could I define what a preacher is? What is a preacher of the gospel? This is a preacher of the gospel. A preacher of the gospel is a man who stands on a storm-tossed deck. And the masts are pulling. And the winds are raging. And the sails are blown from their ropes. And nothing, but the specter of the dread form of death and the grave rises ahead. The preacher of the gospel is a man who stands in the midst of the huddled refuge on that sinking boat. And he lifts up his voice and says, “Sir, be of good cheer, for there stood by me this night the angel of God saying fear not, fear not. You do not need to be afraid. Fear not. Fear not.” That is a preacher of the gospel. He stands by the open grave and he opens that blessed Book. And he reads therein, “Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe in Christ. In his Father’s house are many mansions” [John 14:1-2]. Who can say that but a preacher? But a preacher? That is what a preacher is. When all have forsaken and fled, when their little knowledge, when their little infidelity, when their little agnosticism has faded like a candle before the sun? The preacher stands on the storm-tossed deck and says, I have heard the voice of God saying do not be afraid. Be of good cheer, let not your heart be troubled. That is a preacher. He has a message when the wind is blowing and the storms assails. So they took the little ship and they let her drive before the storm into a little place where two seas met. And there in the meeting of those two seas, the boat ran aground. And the forepart stuck past and hard in the bank, in the bar, in the sand, and the violence of the waves beat the hinder part and broke the boat to pieces. That happened in a place where two seas met. And the ship was destroyed. And that is a parable lastly of our lives. Finally, the boat in which we make our journey across life’s sea, finally it always runs aground when two seas meet. The fierce pounding tides of time on this side, and the fierce pounding tides of eternity on that side, and those two seas meet on our death bed. And they pound our little boat to pieces. Timber by timber, plank by plank, faculty by faculty, step by step, strength by strength, part by part, piece by piece, the little boat of our lives is pounded to death. My eyes-and I cannot see like once I did, the vision grows dim; and my hearing-and I cannot hear like once I did, my hearing grows difficult and hard; and my strength-I cannot stand up and walk like once I did; the pounding seas are destroying the little boat in which I launched out into the deep. It is then-it is then, that our hearts turn in faith and in trust and in hope to the great God who made us. And to Jesus, our Savior, when our little boat is pounded to pieces, oh, Lord, remember me.
O Maker of the mighty deep
Whereon our vessels fare,
Above our life’s adventure keep
Thy faithful watch and care.
In Thee we trust, whate’er befall;
Thy sea is great, our boats are small.
We know not where the secret tides
Will help us or delay,
Nor where the lurking tempest hides,
Nor where the fogs are gray.
In Thee we trust, whate’er befall;
Thy sea is great, our boats are small. When outward bound we boldly sail
And leave the friendly shore,
Let not our heart of courage fail
Until the voyage is o’er.
In Thee we trust, whate’er befall;
Thy sea is great, our boats are small.
Beyond the circle of the sea,
When voyaging is past,
We seek our final port in Thee;
O bring us home at last.
In Thee we trust, whate’er befall;
Thy sea is great, our boats are small.
[Henry Van Dyke, “O Maker of the Mighty Deep”]. May we pray. Dear Lord, Holy Savior, even our little children peering into the reflection of this sea of life wonder. And all of us who have grown older, all of us have experienced the truth of this message this day. There is not any life launched on that open sea but that shall meet its storm, shall be driven by the fierce Euroclydon, shall know what it is to be battered and hammered. And some day to us all, where two seas meet, there to find our little boat battered and torn, timber by timber, faculty by faculty. Lord, thank God for the grim, stern preacher. When he tells us of these roaring reefs and these sunken rocks and these violent winds, he is in the a welcome guest. He prophesies of an evil day. He prophesies of age and of death and of wind that breaks. But when the time comes and the lights gone out and the sun is dark, oh, that same preacher so grim and stern, standing among the people saying, “But I heard a voice from God. Be of good cheer.” There stand by us this day, oh, Lord, stand by us in all of the ocean journey, the vicissitudes and fortunes and exigencies, stand by us Lord. Be thou the captain and the pilot of our little craft and bring us some day home with thee. Thank thee, Lord, for the hope, for the assurance, for the precious presence. And now, Master, as we sing our song, some body today give his heart and life and trust to thee. Some body put his life in the church. Send them to us. We shall thank thee Jesus name, amen. While we sing our song some body, you; some body you into that aisle down here to the front, Preacher, today, I give my heart to Christ. Would you come and take me by the hand? Preacher, I give my hand to you. I give my heart to God. Some body you, come into the fellowship of this church, by letter, by baptism, by confession of faith, however the Lord shall say the word, would you, a family of you, a one of you come. Preacher, today my life with the Lord of these glorious people into this church; however God shall open the door and lead the way, while we song, would you come? While we stand and sing.