And all this as Paul makes his way to Rome.
But you know, as Luke sort of carries us along in this final stage of his great sort of history
of the early church, we learn something along the way in this chapter about life in Christ.
And I think the thing we learn is this.
In particular, we see how the gospel makes us agents of hope in hopeless situations.
Let's begin by looking at the first 20 verses of chapter 27.
Remember here, Paul is under arrest and on trial in Caesarea.
He has appealed to Caesar.
And now at last, after trial upon trial, the journey to Rome finally begins.
In your bulletin, there's a little map.
The first time I read this chapter, I thought, I have no idea where any of these places are.
So there's a little map there to help you along the way as I read along and read for us.
So let me read Acts 27 verses 1 through 20.
And when it was decided that we should sail for Italy, they delivered Paul and some other prisoners
to a centurion of the Augustan cohort named Julius.
And embarking in a ship of Adramidium, which was about to sail to the ports along the coast of Asia,
we put to sea, accompanied by Aristarchus, a Macedonian from Thessalonica.
The next day we put in at Sidon, and Julius treated Paul kindly and gave him leave to go out to his friends and be cared for.
And putting out to sea from there, we sailed under the lee of Cyprus because the winds were against us.
And when we had sailed across the open sea along the coast of Cilicia and Pamphylia, we came to Myra and Lycia.
There the centurion found a ship of Alexandria sailing for Italy and put us on board.
We sailed slowly for a number of days and arrived with difficulty off Nydas.
And as the wind did not allow us to go farther, we sailed under the lee of Crete off Salmonae.
Coasting along it with difficulty, we came to a place called Fair Havens, near which was the city of Lycia.
Since much time had passed and the voyage was now dangerous because even the fast was already over,
Paul advised them, saying,
Sirs, I perceive that the voyage will be with injury and much loss, not only of the cargo and the ship, but also our lives.
But the centurion paid more attention to the pilot and the owner of the ship than to what Paul said.
And because the harbor was not suitable to spend the winter in, the majority decided to put out to sea from there,
on the chance that somehow they could reach Phoenix, a harbor of Crete,
facing both southwest and northwest, and spend the winter there.
Now when the south wind blew gently, supposing that they had obtained their purpose,
they weighed anchor and sailed along Crete close to the shore.
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.
Running under the lee of a small island named Kauda, we managed with difficulty to secure the ship's boat.
After hoisting it up, they used supports to undergird the ship.
Then fearing that they would run aground on the surdice, they lowered the gear, and thus they were driven along.
Since we were violently storm-tossed, they began the next day to jettison the cargo.
And on the third day, they threw the ship's tackle overboard with their own hands.
When neither sun nor stars appeared for many days, and no small tempest lay on us,
all hope of our being saved was at last abandoned.
Now I would give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.
So says Gonzalo in the first scene of Shakespeare's The Tempest as the play sort of opens with a frightened crew in a deadly storm.
I think the closest I personally ever got to that feeling was a number of years ago when Beth and I were riding a ferry to Nantucket in the winter.
Friends of ours invited us to join them at their sort of, I think it was a great aunt's place on the island.
It was out of season.
So, you know, it was sort of a nice free little getaway.
So we all met and boarded the ferry in Rhode Island, I think.
But no sooner had we set out in this big ferry, and the sky turned gray, and the water got rough.
And the ship actually started rocking so badly.
I remember being inside sort of laying on one of the chairs, trying to, you know, keep whatever I ate for lunch down.
And I remember the sort of ship rocking, and as it rocked this way out the window, we saw nothing but water.
And then as it rocked this way, we saw nothing but sky.
And we pretty much went like that the whole way across the Sound to Nantucket.
And thankfully, it didn't get any worse than that.
Maybe you've been in a worse storm than that out on the sea.
But, you know, for a land lover like me from the middle of Pennsylvania, that was bad enough.
And trust me, in the middle of that, I wasn't quoting Shakespeare.
Now I would give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.
I was pretty much just saying, ah, ready for this one to be over.
Let's get to land.
Of course, my ferry ride wasn't all that bad.
But for Luke and Paul and their Thessalonian friend Aristarchus, the situation was beyond desperate.
All our hope of being saved was at last abandoned, Luke says.
Notice how he uses the first person there.
In verse 1, Luke says, we set sail.
This is another one of those sections in Acts where Luke was personally accompanying Paul on his journey.
You might wonder, well, what's Luke been up to since chapter 21 when he came with Paul to Jerusalem?
Probably been researching all the things that went into his gospel for the last two years living in Palestine with Paul.
But anyway, here the sort of we section picks up and Luke is on the boat with Paul on this journey.
In the 19th century, a Scottish sailor named James Smith wrote a book called The Voyage and Shipwreck of St. Paul,
which is all about this chapter of Acts.
And in fact, most of the sort of studies of this chapter of Acts still make reference to that study from 150 plus years ago.
And Smith himself was an experienced sailor and he actually lived in the Mediterranean for a number of years.
I don't know what a Scottish sailor was doing living in the Mediterranean, but there you go.
He was eccentric, I guess.
And he basically spent a whole winter investigating Luke's account here.
Basically resailing the route, studying the historicity of shipping and boating and storms at the time.
And his conclusion in that study, having basically lived through it himself, was this.
He says,
No sailor would have written in a style so little like that of a sailor.
But no man not a sailor could have written a narrative of a sea voyage so consistent in all its parts,
unless from actual observation.
In other words, what Smith is saying is that, look, on the one hand, Luke's definitely not a sailor.
We know that from his style.
But for someone who's not a professional on the water, there's only one way.
He could have put it together with such an accurate and consistent account.
He must have been there, Smith concludes, and seen it with his own eyes.
And that means that Acts, in this sort of chapter of Acts, doesn't just have some real historical reliability behind it,
but it also has real existential reality behind it.
In other words, Luke knew what it was like to be in such a desperate situation
that he had abandoned any hope of being saved.
Of course, the journey started out well, right?
Luke and Aristarchus, in a real act of friendship, commit to go with Paul on his journey to Rome.
They probably paid for their passage themselves in order to accompany him along the way.
And Paul was even allowed to visit his Christian friends in Sidon.
In verse 3 there, the phrase friends, or his friends, or the friends,
might even be a technical term that Luke is using for the church.
A sign of the deep bonds that the gospel creates.
But then the clouds begin to gather.
Twice in verses 4 through 8, Luke says that they sailed along only with great difficulty.
The winds were against us.
They had to sail under the lee of Crete and then of Cyprus.
That is, they sort of sailed along the island in such a way that the ongoing winds were blocked by the landmass.
The trip was increasingly difficult.
And when they made it to Crete, it was already October.
The fast that Luke mentions in verse 9 lets us know really what time of year it is
because there was only one prescribed fast in the whole Jewish calendar.
And it was Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, which happens in the fall.
And what we know is that sailing in the Mediterranean was notoriously difficult after September.
That time of year, that period of history.
And we also know that shipping and boating and most things on the water
essentially stopped from mid-November until mid-March.
So when Paul tells the centurion and the crew to not keep going,
to just sort of settle for their place in Fair Havens
and not make the one-day trip up the coast of Phoenix,
he's using pretty good gut instinct.
Of course, Paul wasn't a professional sailor, right?
But over the course of his missionary journey,
some scholars estimate that he had sailed over 3,000 miles in three decades.
In 2 Corinthians, a letter written before this trip to Rome,
Paul writes that he had been shipwrecked no less than three times.
And one of those times, he had spent a day and a night adrift at sea.
Paul knew the water perhaps a little too well for his own liking.
But the crew decides to take a risk, right?
Phoenix was a better harbor to spend the winter,
better sort of protected from the winds that would come along,
a better place to sort of shield the ship and the cargo.
And it was just a day's trip up the coast.
So they go for it.
And it all goes wrong.
A typhoon force drives them out to sea,
and they start taking any measures they can to just stay afloat.
They bring in the little boat, tie it to the deck that was used to shuttle back and forth to shore.
They undergird the ship with cables to keep it from breaking apart.
They're afraid of the Sirtis sandbars that were off the northern coast of Africa
that were notorious as a graveyard for ships,
so they lower the gear and try to slow down.
And the next day, they jettison the cargo.
And the third day, they throw even the ship's cargo overboard, Luke says, with their own hands.
In other words, it wasn't the waves that dashed it off.
They were so scared that they themselves threw it over in any attempt to save themselves.
And as the storm continues day after day, at last they throw their hope itself overboard.
Luke says, neither sun nor stars appeared for many days.
Which isn't just sort of a poetic way of saying that the storm was really bad.
In fact, you know, in the ancient world, the sun and the stars were the way in which a ship's crew navigated.
That was their navigation system.
That's how they got their bearings on the water.
So, Luke is basically saying, we were totally and utterly lost.
And we had no idea where this storm was driving us.
And in the face of all that, Luke says they lose hope.
Now, friend, as we think about this storm,
I wonder as you look over your life, if you've ever been there.
Not in a boat, per se, but in a storm.
A situation so unrelenting, so fierce, that you have no idea where it's driving you.
And you've done everything you think you can think of to stay afloat.
And you've taken every bit of advice people have given you.
And you've tried every tactic that you've read in all the self-help books.
But still, you're being driven out to sea, as it were.
It shows no signs of stopping.
And you have no idea where it's taking you.
What desperate, seemingly hopeless situation are you in this morning?
Maybe it's a work situation that seems headed for disaster,
and you can do little to stop it.
Maybe it's a problem with your spouse that's never resolved,
and you feel like you can't even talk about it because it's so raw,
and you've been over it so many times.
Maybe it's a health condition that's chronic and won't change.
Maybe it's depression that won't lift.
Maybe it's loneliness that gnaws away at you like the waves that pound the shore
day after day, taking more sand out to sea.
What storm are you in?
And if you're not in a situation like this right now,
well, friend, what are you going to do when you are?
Where do we find the courage to face the storms of life with hope?
Well, let's pick up our passage in verse 21.
Luke writes,
And now I urge you to take heart, for there will be no loss of life among you,
but only of the ship.
For this very night there stood before me an angel of the God to whom I belong
and whom I worship.
And he said,
Do not be afraid, Paul.
You must stand before Caesar.
And behold, God has granted you all those who sail with you.
So take heart, men,
for I have faith in God that it will be exactly as I have been told.
But we must run aground on some island.
Twice, Paul tells them and us here to take heart, take courage.
You know, you can even translate that phrase, cheer up.
Now, that sounds a little crazy, right?
They've just lost all hope of living.
They've jettisoned all the cargo, thrown the tackle overboard,
and now Paul stands up and says,
Guys, newsflash, cheer up.
Take heart.
How can he say such a thing?
Because in the middle of the storm,
God reaffirmed his word of promise.
Jesus had promised Paul back in chapter 23 that he would testify in Rome.
And now God sends an angel into the middle of the storm
to remind and reaffirm that promise to Paul.
He will stand before Caesar.
And then God assures him even further
that no one on the ship will lose their lives either.
Do you see the important principle that's emerging here?
This is how God gives us courage and hope
in the face of seemingly hopeless situations.
He reminds us of his promises.
When we plunge into the darkest night of the storm,
when the stars go black,
and we have no sense of direction or purpose,
God's words of promise are like a ballast
that keep our ship from tipping over,
that keep our ship from sort of capsizing in the midst of the storm.
Now you might be wondering,
well, look, do we today have anything like this promise
that God made to Paul back then?
I mean, he got an angel and some pretty specific words.
I mean, is that what we get?
Should we expect something like that?
Are those the kind of promises that God gives us today?
Well, in one sense, no.
But in another sense, yes.
And here's what I mean.
On the one hand,
Paul was given a very specific and remarkable promise
that he would make it to Rome alive.
And the reality is that we today
have nothing so specific in God's word to us in Scripture.
So that's not exactly what we should expect.
But that doesn't mean we're without hope.
Because on the other hand,
there are promises in the New Testament
that are for every believer
that give us the same courage
and the same hope that Paul had.
For instance, think about the truth of Ephesians 1, 11,
that God works out everything
in conformity with the purpose of his will.
Here we're told that the circumstances of life,
every single one of them,
are being so influenced by God
that they follow his plan,
that he works everything,
even raging storms,
according to the counsel of his will.
But you might still ask,
okay, that's great,
but how is that good news for me?
God, granted, orchestrates all things,
whatever that means,
but does he have my best in mind
in all of that orchestration?
Sometimes it doesn't exactly seem so.
But it becomes good news
when you consider other texts,
like Romans 8, 28.
There we're told that God works,
he controls, he directs,
in all things,
every circumstance and event,
for the good of those who love him,
who have been called,
according to his purpose.
This is a guarantee that God's plan is for our good,
and that nothing can thwart it.
Or think of the promise in 2 Corinthians 4,
16 through 17.
Paul writes there,
so we do not lose heart.
There it is again.
Keep heart.
Though our outer self is wasting away,
Paul writes,
our inner self is being renewed day by day.
For this light and momentary affliction is preparing for us
an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.
When you really grasp how profound and comprehensive
those promises are for everyone in Christ,
you start to realize that in essence,
we have the same thing that Paul had.
No, we don't have the specificity Paul got.
Paul knew he would make it to Rome.
I don't know if I'm going to make it to lunch today.
But no matter what comes,
God promises that it's for my good,
and it's preparing for me an eternal weight of glory.
No matter how raging the storm,
it's not going to separate me
from the good of God for my life.
Which is to say,
that we can know beyond the shadow of a doubt
that God will give us
what we ourselves would have asked for
if we knew all that He knows.
If we had God's perspective
and we were praying in light of that,
that is exactly what we would receive.
That's exactly what we would ask for.
The American poet John Greenleaf Whittier
wrote these lines about the providence of God.
He writes,
Here in the maddening maze of things,
when tossed by storm and flood,
to one fixed ground my spirit clings.
I know that God is good.
But of course, that's the real struggle, isn't it?
The battle to know and believe
in the midst of the storms that God is good.
To be able to actually say with Paul in verse 25,
I have faith in God.
That is, I trust God
that it will be exactly as I have been told.
Isn't that our real heart need?
To be able to trust Him?
To trust that He's good?
To trust that His promises are working out
exactly as we've been told?
How do we get to that place of trust?
How do we get to the place
that even in the midst of your storm,
no matter what it may be,
you can have the courage and the hope
that springs up
from a deep trust in God's promises?
Well, think for a second with me.
Have you ever considered that the storyline
of the Bible
is really one long story
when it boils down to it
of God rescuing His people
through storms and seas?
God rescues Noah
through the seas of the flood.
God rescues Israel
through the waters of the Red Sea.
God even rescues Jonah,
the bigoted runaway prophet,
from a deadly storm at sea.
Maybe not the way He would want to be saved,
swallowed by a fish,
but still saved.
But friends,
this history of God with His people
is telling us something more
than just the fact
that God has a really good track record
with storms and seas.
It's all meant to help us see
that there's a greater storm
that threatens us.
And you won't really be able
to trust God
in a deep, vital, personal,
life-changing way
until you see
that this greater storm
isn't your circumstances.
And this greater storm
isn't your job problems.
And it's not your relationships.
And it's not your physical health.
No, the greatest storm that we face
is a storm of our own sin
and God's just anger
and opposition against it.
And you have to see
that in this storm,
we are truly helpless in ourselves.
No matter how much cargo
you throw overboard,
that storm remains.
But here's the shocking thing.
The Bible,
after so many stories
about God rescuing His people
through the storm,
comes to its very climax
with one who Himself
sails into that greatest storm.
But instead of being rescued,
He's abandoned in darkness.
The sun goes out
and He's crushed beneath the waves.
What's happening?
Has God somehow lost the plot
of the great story
that He was telling?
No, friends.
On the cross,
Jesus Christ took the full storm
of God's wrath
as our substitute.
so that now in Him,
no matter what other storm we face,
even if our ship is dashed
on the rocks,
even if we go down
into death itself,
we won't be lost.
Jesus stood in the greatest storm
for us,
in our place,
bearing the penalty we deserved
so that we can know
God's love and peace
no matter what winds
and no matter what waves might come.
His was the ultimate rescue
from the deadliest storm.
And God demonstrated all of this
by raising Him from the dead
on the third day.
And friends,
when you see Christ's
sacrificial death for you,
when you see Him
triumphing over your sin
and your death
and God's wrath
and the resurrection,
when you see that,
then your heart
will begin to trust
God's promises.
Then you'll be able
to face any storm
with courage.
Then you'll be able
to lose the ship
and know that God
hasn't lost you.
Paul says in verse 23,
the God to whom I belong
and whom I worship.
Do you know that you belong
to God in Christ?
That the same special care
that God showed to Paul
throughout all of his years
and all of his journeys
and all of his mishaps,
God shows to everyone
who turns and trusts
in His Son.
He knows every wind that blows.
He knows every wave that breaks.
He knows every word
and each one He's using
to make you fit for glory
and nothing will break His promise.
If He has given His Son for you,
if He has put His Spirit into you,
then friends,
His promise will not fail.
One writer describes how
several years ago,
some boards and veneers
cut from an oak beam
of an 80-year-old ship
were exhibited
at a fashionable furniture store
on Broadway in New York City.
They attracted attention,
he says,
because of their elegant coloring
and beautiful grain.
Equally striking
were some mahogany beams
taken from a ship
that shelled the seas
60 years ago.
The years of travel
had contracted
the pores of the wood
and deepened its colors
so that they were
as magnificent
and bright
as those of an antique
Chinese vase.
The wood has since been used
to make a cabinet,
the writer says,
that sits in a place of honor
in the living room
of a wealthy New York family.
There's also a great difference,
he goes on to say,
between the quality of people
who have lived listless,
self-indulgent,
and useless lives
and the quality of those
who have sailed
through rough seas,
carrying cargo
and burdens
as servants of God
and as helpers of others.
In the latter group,
not only have the stress
and strain of life
seeped into their lives,
but the aroma
of the sweetness
of their cargo
has also been absorbed
into the very pores
of every fiber
of their character.
Lewis Albert Banks.
Do you see what he's saying, friends?
The storms of life,
though they rack you
and try you,
they're actually making you
into something beautiful
in a way that nothing else can.
like the wood of a ship
that's been weathered
and cured
through the weight
of a thousand journeys,
so God is making you
into something of worth
and beauty
with each wave
that crashes
against your deck.
Do you want to face storms
with courage
and hope?
Friend,
go to this God.
trust his word of promise.
Throw yourself
upon the gospel itself,
Jesus' death
and resurrection for you,
and there you will find
more than enough
courage and hope
no matter what the seas
throw at you.
And what's more
is that this trust
of God
and his promises
won't just give you hope,
but it will actually
change you
and make you
into an agent of hope,
a minister of hope
to those who are seemingly
in hopeless situation
themselves.
We see this
in the rest of the passage
starting in verse 27.
Let's pick up
Luke's narrative there.
When the fourteenth night
had come,
as we were being driven
across the Adriatic Sea,
about midnight,
the sailors suspected
that they were nearing land.
So they took a sounding
and found twenty fathoms.
A little further on,
they took a sounding again
and found fifteen fathoms.
And fearing that we might
run on the rocks,
they let down four anchors
from the stern
and prayed for day to come.
And as the sailors
were seeking to escape
from the ship
and had lowered the ship's boat
into the sea
under pretense
of laying out anchors
from the bow,
Paul said to the centurion
and the soldiers,
unless these men
stay in the ship,
you cannot be saved.
Then the soldiers
cut away the ropes
of the ship's boat
and let it go.
As day was about to dawn,
Paul urged them all
to take some food,
saying,
Today's the fourteenth day
that you've continued
in suspense
and without food,
having taken nothing.
Therefore,
I urge you to take some food,
for it will give you strength,
for not a hair
is to perish
from the head
of any of you.
And when he had said
these things,
he took bread,
and giving thanks
in the presence of all,
he broke it
and began to eat.
Then they were all
encouraged
and ate some food
themselves.
There were in all
two hundred and seventy-six
persons in the ship,
and when they had
eaten enough,
they lightened the ship,
throwing out the weed
into the sea.
Now when it was day,
they did not recognize
the land,
but they noticed
a bay with a beach
on which they planned,
if possible,
to run the ship ashore.
So they cast off
the anchors
and let them in the sea,
at the same time
loosening the ropes
that tied the rudders,
then hoisting the foresail
to the wind
they made for the beach.
But striking a reef,
they ran the vessel aground.
The bow stuck
and remained immovable,
and the stern
was being broken up
by the surf.
The soldier's plan
was to kill the prisoners
lest any should swim away
and escape,
but the centurion,
wishing to save Paul,
kept them from carrying
out their plan.
He ordered those
who could swim
to jump overboard first
and make for the land
and the rest on planks
or pieces of the ship.
And so it was
that all were brought
safely to land.
Notice how the day
progressively breaks
in this section.
In verse 27,
it's midnight.
In verse 33,
it's about dawn.
And in verse 39,
it's day.
And by way of application,
I think we see
two things that are true
of those who hold fast
to God's promises
in the storm.
First,
Paul's trust in God
carries others
in the face of crisis.
One commentator writes,
buoyed by his belief
in God's sovereignty,
Paul acted with calm
at a time when others
were panicking.
In the rest of the chapter,
right,
Paul steps forward
as a leader
who can be trusted
and the crew
follows him.
Which helps us to see,
by the way,
that in verse 21,
Paul isn't saying,
by the way,
I told you so.
Did you wonder that
when we read it?
No,
Paul's saying,
look,
trust me.
And we see
that Paul's able
to do much good
in the face
of a seemingly
hopeless situation.
He's able to keep his head
and act wisely
because he's richly rooted
in what God has promised.
And when the sailors
want to run,
Paul makes sure they stay.
After all,
who's going to steer
the ship to shore
if all the sailors
have cut and run?
That's why,
by the way,
everyone's life
depends on them
staying in the ship.
And when the crew
is too tired to eat,
Paul gives them
something to eat.
And when the soldiers
are ready to kill
the prisoners
for fear that they
themselves will be punished
if the prisoners escape,
it's for Paul's sake
that the centurion
keeps them alive.
Through it all,
Paul becomes
an agent of hope.
I think especially
of verses 33 through 38,
breaking the bread,
getting the men to eat,
you know,
it wasn't just
a practical move,
though of course
it wasn't less than that.
One person observed,
Paul knew that hungry men
are not efficient men.
Fair enough.
But more than that,
Paul taking the bread
on the deck of that ship
and feeding those men
was a symbol of hope.
Despairing people
don't eat a meal
and they don't give thanks.
And yet Paul leads them
in both.
His hope,
his courage,
it carried the rest of them.
And so too,
friends,
the church is meant
to do the same thing today.
We too are meant
to be agents of hope,
knowing that God
has not abandoned us
or his world.
Knowing that no matter
how difficult
or chaotic
or unjust
life becomes,
God's promises
still stand.
God's kingdom
is still advancing.
And what's ahead
for creation
is not ultimately
darkness,
but daylight.
New life
after the storm.
The world healed
and made right.
God's kingdom
and we,
the church,
are placed
in the middle
of this story
to bear witness
through our words
and our deeds
of the hope
of the gospel
that the Lord Jesus
reigns
and creation
one day
will rejoice,
liberated
from its bondage
to decay,
as Paul will say.
So we see
that holding
to God's promises
makes us agents
of hope
in a hopeless world,
but it also gives us
courage
for mission.
Isn't that
the second thing
we see?
At the end
of this chapter,
they lose the ship,
but they keep
their lives.
And so it is
for those in Christ.
Friend,
you can lose
everything,
earthly speaking,
but you won't lose
what really matters.
You won't lose
the one thing
that's truly
life to you.
In other words,
no storm
will ultimately
wreck you
because even
in death,
you won't
lose Christ,
the one who died
and rose again
so that you
might live.
And even more
than that,
don't we see here
that they lose
the ship
in order
to keep
their lives?
They have
to lose
everything
to stand
safely on shore.
In other words,
God uses
a shipwreck
for their salvation.
Jesus said
to his disciples,
if anyone
would come
after me,
let him deny
himself
and take up
his cross
and follow me.
Friends,
following God
on mission
is costly
through many
dangers,
toils,
and snares,
as the hymn
puts it.
And this journey
to Rome
in chapters 27
and 28
is emblematic
for Luke
of the fact
that taking
the gospel
to the ends
of the earth
is a dangerous
undertaking.
Don't be confused.
But the way
of the cross
is also
the way
of life.
The way
of the cross
is the way
of resurrection.
And anything
we lose
is nothing
compared
to what we gain.
The great
19th century
missionary
David Livingston
once said
to a crowd
of Cambridge
students,
for my own
part,
I've never
ceased to rejoice
that God
has appointed
me to such
an office.
People talk
of the sacrifice
I have made
in spending
so much
of my life
in Africa.
Is that a
sacrifice
which brings
its own
blessed reward
and healthful
activity
in the
consciousness
of doing
good,
peace of
mind,
and a
bright hope
of a
glorious
destiny
hereafter?
Away with
the word
in such a
view
and with
such a
thought.
It is
emphatically
no sacrifice.
Say,
rather it is
a privilege,
anxiety,
sickness,
suffering,
or danger
now and
then.
With the
foregoing
of the
common
conveniences
and charities
of this
life,
they may
make us
pause
and cause
the spirit
to waver
and the soul
to sink,
but let this
only be for
a moment.
All these
are nothing
when compared
with the glory
which shall
be revealed
in us
and for
us.
I never
made a
sacrifice.
There's
someone who
knew God's
promises,
who knew
what it
meant to
lose the
ship,
to gain
his life.
So,
friend,
if you're in
the storm
this morning,
trust God.
Hold
fast to
him and
his promises.
Hold
fast to
Jesus Christ,
the one in
whom all
God's promises
find their
yes,
find their
fulfillment.
And not
only will
God fill
you with
courage
and hope,
but he'll
make you a
fearless agent
of hope
in the
world.
Let's
pray.
Lord Jesus,
we ask
that you
would fill
us with
the confidence
and the
courage
that this
passage speaks
of.
Lord,
send your
spirit,
we pray,
to help
us see
that our
hope is
immovable,
that it
stands
fast,
that in
every storm
you are
bringing us
towards the
harbor of
your goodness,
of your
grace,
and of
your glorious
future.
Amen.