Day 04 - Aphrodisias, Evening Cruise on the Aegean

Blog Post: Day Four – Emperors, Martyrs, and the Sea

Today we walked the marble streets of Aphrodisias—one of the most beautifully preserved cities in Asia Minor and a window into the soul of the Roman world. Named for Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love, Aphrodisias was a center of art, philosophy, and especially imperial devotion. Sculptors here were known throughout the empire, and the ruins still radiate elegance. But amidst all the beauty, today’s theme was power—what kind of power demands loyalty, and what kind of power brings life.

We began our time at the Sebasteion, an ornate imperial temple complex built to celebrate the Julio-Claudian emperors as gods. The marble reliefs we saw were staggering: emperors conquering nations, personifications of provinces kneeling before Rome, the imperial family depicted as celestial beings. These sculptures weren’t just decoration—they were theology carved in stone. The emperor was to be worshiped, feared, obeyed. He was kyrios—“Lord.”

And into that world stepped a carpenter’s son from Nazareth who also claimed that title.

We lingered here to reflect on what it meant to say “Jesus is Lord” in a city like this. It wasn’t a private religious opinion—it was a public declaration of allegiance that undermined the entire imperial system. The early Christians weren’t persecuted just for being different. They were persecuted for refusing to bow.

That brought us to one of the most sobering places in the city—the stadium, the largest and best-preserved in the ancient world. While its grand arches and rows of seating may look picturesque today, this was also a place of death. Christians were martyred here, thrown before the crowd for sport. And as we stood there, we read Hebrews 11–12 together—the long list of the faithful who endured suffering, torture, death. “They wandered in deserts and mountains, living in caves and holes in the ground… the world was not worthy of them.”

And then the writer shifts: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders… and run with perseverance the race marked out for us.”

It hit differently in that stadium.

The Romans filled their arenas with crowds to cheer for death. But Hebrews imagines a different crowd—heaven’s crowd—cheering us on to life. Not mocking, but encouraging. Not demanding spectacle, but celebrating faithfulness.

From there, our day slowed. We drove through the lush green countryside, leaving the inland cities behind and heading west toward the sea. The bus wound through small towns and olive groves until we reached Kuşadası, a charming coastal city nestled against the Aegean.

That evening, we took a boat ride on the sea, letting the breeze and salt air wash over us. The sun sank into the Aegean as we looked back on the day: from marble temples of false power, to stadiums of suffering, to the quiet endurance of real faith. We ended the day at a beautiful seaside hotel, falling asleep to the sound of waves—resting in the promise that Jesus, not Caesar, is Lord.