Day 03 - Hierapolis, Laodicea

We began the day quite literally on a high note—floating above the landscape in a hot air balloon as the morning sun gilded the valleys and ruins below. Suspended in stillness, watching the world slowly brighten beneath us, we were reminded how small we are and yet how intentionally God places each of us in our time and setting. It was a moment to reflect, breathe deep, and prepare our hearts for the stories of faithfulness that awaited us.

Our first stop on the ground was Hierapolis, a city once bustling with Greco-Roman life and healing rituals centered around the thermal springs. But tucked behind the ancient theatre and the ruins of Roman temples lies the Martyrium of Philip—a quiet monument to one man’s unshakeable obedience.

According to early Christian tradition, he was martyred in this very city. There’s no record of great revivals breaking out at his preaching, no local governors being converted—just his death, faithfully lived unto the end. And yet, his and others faithful witness was not defeat, centuries later, something remarkable happened: the same empire that killed him would come to honor him. The very empire that put him to death, paid for the massive structure honoring his sacrifice, his faithfulness bore fruit he never saw.

It was a powerful reminder that faithfulness does not always look like success. The call to follow Jesus is not always rewarded in our lifetime. But it plants seeds that God can grow, even if it takes generations. Philip’s story challenges our metrics. He didn’t “win the city,” but he remained faithful—and through him, the gospel found root.

From there, we traveled to Laodicea, a city known from Revelation not for zeal but for lukewarmness. Jesus’ rebuke of the Laodicean church is stinging: “You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.” (Revelation 3:17)

It was here that we asked a hard but holy question: What does it mean to be faithful when you’ve been rebuked? Can you hear correction—not as condemnation—but as an invitation to return, to renew, to rekindle love?

We were stunned to learn that the Laodicean church did just that. Far from disappearing into the ash heap of history, the Christians of Laodicea endured. The city going on to have the most church buildings in it of any city in Asia Minor.  After the Edict of Milan legalized Christianity in 313 AD, the city became a regional Christian center. Archaeologists have uncovered one of the earliest and largest church buildings in Asia Minor—built right here. The community that was once called out for spiritual apathy became a church that stood the test of time.

That church was not built by perfect people. It was built by those who heard Jesus’ rebuke and turned back. Faithfulness, in this case, looked like repentance.

Today, we sat among stones and ruins that once trembled with singing voices and hopeful prayers. And we found ourselves praying, too—not just to do great things for God, but to be faithful in the small things. To stay rooted when results are invisible. To repent when we drift. To believe, like Philip, that our obedience matters—even if the fruit comes long after we’re gone.