Go Beyond

Discovering why Laodicea’s warning is still relevant today.

Today we walked among the ruins of Laodicea and visited the sites of the neighboring cities of Hierapolis and Colossae. Having visited these ancient sites twice before, I consider Laodicea my favorite site among the seven churches of Revelation. It is an expansive place that whispers of a once-powerful and influential city.

Walking among the ruins, it is impossible not to imagine what life must have been like in a place like this nearly two thousand years ago. Massive theaters, expansive streets, towering columns, public baths, marketplaces, and a church. Together, these ruins form the geographical context in which part of the biblical narrative occurred.

Yet today they are quiet.

Laodicea warns us about the danger of becoming spiritually complacent. Surrounded by wealth and comfort, the believers had grown self-satisfied. Instead of influencing the culture around them, they had become indistinguishable from it. They were no longer making a meaningful difference in the world God had placed them in. It was to this church that Jesus declared, “I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other!” (Revelation 3:15).

To understand His words, it helps to understand the geography.

Just six miles north of Laodicea was Hierapolis, famous throughout the ancient world for its hot, mineral-rich springs. People traveled great distances seeking healing in its steaming waters. The “hot” water of Hierapolis was valuable because it brought restoration and healing.

About ten miles southeast of Laodicea was Colossae. Fed by mountain springs, Colossae was known for its cold, crystal-clear water. In the oppressive heat of Asia Minor, its refreshing pools provided relief and renewed strength. The “cold” water of Colossae was equally valuable because it refreshed and invigorated.

Laodicea, however, had neither.

Its water arrived by aqueduct from distant sources. By the time it reached the city, the once-hot water had cooled, the once-cold water had warmed, and the mineral content left it foul-smelling and unpleasant to drink. Rather than healing like Hierapolis or refreshing like Colossae, Laodicea’s water had become lukewarm—good for neither purpose.

Even today, the Turkish name for the Lycus River is Çürüksu (pronounced chu-rook-sue), which means “rotten” (çürük) water (su).

Jesus’ point was unmistakable. He was not saying that He preferred spiritual coldness over spiritual warmth. Rather, He longed for His people to be useful. Like the hot waters of Hierapolis, they should bring healing to a broken world. Like the cold waters of Colossae, they should refresh tired souls. But instead, the church at Laodicea had become spiritually ineffective. Their faith had lost its influence, and they no longer made the kind of difference Christ intended.

That warning still speaks today. Christ has not called His followers to lives of comfortable complacency. He has called us to be people whose lives bring healing, hope, refreshment, and the transforming power of the gospel to the world around us.

Our purpose in bringing our students to Türkiye has never been simply to admire ancient ruins or collect Instagram-worthy travel photos. We want our students to stand where history happened. We want them to open God’s Word where these churches once gathered, and to discover that the message of Revelation and the New Testament is as relevant today as it was when these cities flourished.

The greatest lesson of traveling so far to visit these ruins is not that civilizations eventually crumble. We already know that. The greater lesson is that Christ’s words outlive every civilization. History teaches that buildings fall and empires fade. Cultures change. Nations rise and disappear. Yet the Word of God remains and continues to transform lives.


My prayer is that our students return home with far more than souvenirs and photographs. I hope they carry home a renewed love for Jesus Christ, a deeper confidence in the truth of Scripture, and a greater determination to live faithfully in their own generation.

The ruins have spoken.

The question now is whether we will listen.