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Abide in the Ship

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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Feb 4, 1915

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 92, No. 6.

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“Abide in the Ship”

By A. E. PLACE

A. E. PLACE
“Except these abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved.” Acts 27:31.
PAUL, that great apostle to the Gentiles, is on his last voyage. From the day he left the Jewish council, and took a bold stand for the Lord Jesus Christ and his persecuted disciples, he has been learning “how great things he must suffer” for Christ’s sake. Bonds and imprisonments have awaited him. Beaten with rods above measure, stoned and left for dead, yet he has risen, and with no condemnation of others or pity for himself, has pushed on, his one slogan being, “This one thing I do.”
Now we find him on the treacherous Mediterranean, a prisoner once more and ready for his third shipwreck. Fourteen days have passed without sun, moon, or star, and a great tempest is upon the vessel and crew, the ship unmanageable, even the tackling of the ship thrown overboard to keep her afloat. Men are ready to take to the boats, everything seems lost, but above the roar of the tempest that man of God cries, “Except these abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved.”
This is a message to God’s remnant people today.
In each of Paul’s journeys, and perhaps especially so in this last one, he seems to stand as a type of God’s people in their efforts to carry the threefold message to all the world.
Of ancient Israel we read, “Now all these things happened unto them for ensamples: and they are written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come.” Why may not Paul’s experiences be a type of the experiences of the remnant?
Crises of experience are the lot of the human family. Some have them in the open, others in the privacy of the home and heart. This is true not only of individuals, but of families, of churches, of denominations, and of nations.
These crises tend to make or unmake the individual or the combination of individuals as truly as does the everyday routine of life. They constitute the elements for the building of good and strong character or of weak character. But so surely as the life or the cause for which the life is cast is worthy, so long as the desires are truly for the triumph of truth and not for the establishment of self or selfish interests, there will not be and there cannot be a Waterloo.
It is true that we do not have all to our mind in this life. With many, it is far from it. Childhood’s dreams seldom come true. Time and circumstance have torn the halo from many a cherished plan made this side the shores of childhood.
How many pledges of affection and vows of fidelity, how many tender chords of friendship, think you, have been broken and lie dead upon the rocky shores of the past? The wrecks of the ships of both state and nation strew the shores of earth’s history.
Even the old ship Zion, which has weathered so many storms during her six thousand years’ voyage, has been rent and torn. More than once it has seemed to be on the shoals and in the undertow of the ground swells, but in spite of the prophecies of worldly-wise men the tide has always turned, and, thank God, she still floats, and, like the good ship “Mayflower,” will sail on and on until she reaches her destined harbor, not a temporal refuge, but the peaceful harbor of eternal deliverance.
At one time Zion was declared a wreck, and but one survivor, supposedly, left to tell the tale, and that survivor had gone inland and taken refuge under a juniper tree; and when God found him there, he was praying that he might die. But God told that man that Zion was still safely afloat, with not less than seven thousand passengers on board. That man went aboard once more, and proved to be a trusty pilot.
It is an unworthy waste of time to criticize or blame Elijah, but there is great blessing to the man who is profiting by his experience. My brother, my sister, are you on board?
Time is lost if we stop to condemn the Jews, or any one else; but much time is saved if we “abide in the ship.”
I repeat, Are we on board, or are we under some juniper tree bemoaning our lonely, forlorn condition? If we are in the ship, it is well. She has cleared from her last port of departure. She is on her third and last voyage, and sailing is now dangerous, and before us is the most dangerous portion of the entire voyage.
He who looks for smooth sea ahead, has failed to study the prophetic chart, which the divine finger has traced with indelible colors. No man knows what is before us only as that chart reveals.
May we yet look for days without the light of the sun, and nights bringing neither moon nor star? Will it seem that latitude and longitude are lost? If so, then (if not before) we shall throw overboard all unnecessary cargo.
I am persuaded that that time will come; but allow me to testify to every troubled, trembling husband, wife, or child, let me say to my brethren and sisters throughout this denomination: The God who lived in Daniel’s day is just the same today. The Pilot who directed and steadied the ark through the tempests of the deluge and landed it safely at the end of the days; the Pilot whose feet walked the storm-tossed Galilee; the Pilot who faced Gethsemane and Calvary, and the prison house, the tomb, and came forth a conqueror from it all,—that Pilot is on board today; not as a passenger, but as the pilot. His hand is on the helm, and, so long as there is one Paul remaining on board, so long as there is a real Pauline message burning in the heart of officer or crew, just so long will the ship “sail on,” or, if she cannot sail, will be driven on by the winds of God’s divine providence.
And so surely as any who have this message “abide in the ship,” they will, in the ship and by the ship, be brought to the land of promise; for the message is of God.
Officers may not see eye to eye today; dissension may be among the passengers or the crew; but every true child of God should know and does know that so surely as there is any eternal truth anywhere, the ship which flies “The Remnant” as her colors, will neither go down nor go to pieces till the land of deliverance is reached.
Therefore, no matter how any soul may look at any condition or all conditions on board, on board is now emphatically the place to be. It is the only safe place for any believer of this great threefold message.
There is no chart of the sea that points to any land undiscovered. There can be no church beyond the remnant. If the remnant is not clearly outlined upon Zion’s chart; if the compass, “the commandments of God, and the faith of Jesus,” is not a safe compass by which to steer today, need we look for another?
What use to leave the ship, expecting out of a plank, no matter how good it is, to build a better one, and especially when we know that the last storm is raging! Is there one on plank or spar within the radius of my influence? I will not question his sincerity. Some I love dearly. To you I call with kindness, and I trust with divine love, Come back, and “abide in the ship.” The ship may be much better than we think. It is much better than many think. The harbor is much nearer than the most candid can realize. Now is the time to listen for the voice of the angel as he speaks to Paul, saying, “Fear not, Paul; thou must be brought before Cesar: and, lo, God hath given thee all them that sail with thee.” Is that angel speaking to you, and are you encouraging the officers and crew? Are you “standing by the braces”? Are you handling cargo so as to keep the ship “trimmed”? Or are you nourishing some seed of discord, disorganization, preparatory to the final act of disembarking?
No matter what any man or men may think of you, or what they may say to you or about you, or how you have been misunderstood, forgive and forget it all, and “abide in the ship.”
San Jose, Cal.