Reflections from Acts 27–28:10
When life feels like a storm, what does it actually mean to trust God?
Not the bumper-sticker version of trust. Not the kind that sounds good in hindsight. I mean the kind of trust that’s tested when the waves are still crashing, the wind hasn’t died down, and you don’t yet know how things are going to turn out.
Acts 27 tells the story of Paul caught in a literal storm at sea. And while it’s dramatic, shipwrecks, fear, chaos, it’s also deeply human. Because most of us don’t need a boat in the Mediterranean to know what a storm feels like. We’ve been there: unexpected loss, relational fracture, health scares, financial pressure, decisions we didn’t want to make but had to.
What stands out to me in this story is that trusting God doesn’t mean the storm stops.
Paul is faithful. He listens to God. He encourages others. And yet, the storm still rages. The ship still breaks apart. Everyone still ends up clinging to debris just to reach the shore.
Sometimes we think trust equals control. Or clarity. Or quick rescue. But Acts 27 quietly dismantles that idea. Trust, in this story, looks more like anchoring yourself to God’s promises before you feel safe.
“Trusting God doesn’t mean the storm stops.”
Paul doesn’t say, “Everything’s going to be fine because I feel calm.” He says, “I believe God that it will be exactly as He told me” (Acts 27:25). That’s not denial. That’s faith rooted in God’s word, not circumstances.
And notice this too: trusting God doesn’t make Paul passive.
He prays, but he also speaks up. He trusts, but he also takes action. He believes God’s promise, but he still tells the sailors to stay with the ship.
This is such an important distinction. Trusting God isn’t pretending the storm isn’t real. It’s choosing faithfulness inside the storm. It’s doing the next right thing while holding onto the bigger hope that God is still at work.
Then comes Acts 28. They survive the shipwreck, only to face a new challenge. Paul gets bitten by a snake. Because of course he does. Storms have a way of stacking, don’t they? Just when you think, “We made it,” something else shows up.
But the story ends not with defeat, but with unexpected healing, hospitality, and purpose. What looked like a disaster becomes a doorway for God’s grace to show up in a whole new place.Here’s what I want you to hear, friend:
Trusting God in the storms of life doesn’t mean you won’t feel afraid. It means you decide who you’ll listen to when fear is loud. It doesn’t mean you know how the story will end. It means you trust the One who does.
You might still be in the storm. You might still be clinging to broken pieces. You might not yet see the shore.
But God is present. His promises are steady. And He is far more interested in forming faith than preventing every wave.So maybe trust, right now, looks like this: Taking the next faithful step. Holding onto hope when certainty is gone. Believing that even if the ship breaks apart, God will not let you go.
The storm is not the end of your story. And trust, real trust, often grows strongest right there in the wind and waves.
