Healing Waters and Holy Ground
- kyrieh4
- Aug 18
- 4 min read
The Lycus River valley in western Turkey was home to three early Christian communities mentioned in the New Testament. Colossae is perhaps best well-known because of the letter Paul wrote to the church there. Laodicea has a somewhat more notorious reputation from its mention in the third chapter of Revelation. Whereas, the single notation regarding Hierapolis, found in Colossians 4:13, says only that it is a focus of prayer for Paul’s co-worker Epaphras.
While one may not be faulted for overlooking Hierapolis from its casual mention in Scripture, the city cannot be disregarded when experienced in person. From Laodicea – some six miles across the valley – its location can be readily identified by the bright white cascade of petrified calcium carbonate that forms tessellated pools on the side of the hill. The Turkish name for the area, Pamukkale, describes it as a “cotton castle.”
Today, much as they have for well over 2,000 years, people still come to the area to experience the natural hot springs for their healing properties. The city itself was founded in the second century BC for those seeking cures from various ailments, and the remains of the great bathing complex – where pilgrims once came to immerse themselves in these medicinal waters – now house an archaeological museum.
Yet the same cave from which flows the thermal spring waters that feed the area was once also believed to be the entrance to the underworld and the focus of the Plutonium, where toxic fumes emanated from an underground pit causing the animals and birds sacrificed there to die of suffocation. From the shrine’s podium above the cave entrance, a colossal statue of Pluto flanked by Cerberus, the three-headed dog, and two serpents presided over the rituals and the visitors who sought answers from the oracle.
In this sacred city, life and death existed side-by-side. The living went about their business of making textiles that would be exported throughout the Roman Empire, enjoyed the spectacles in the hillside theatre, and bathed in the warm springs seeking healing for their ailments. While outside the northern gate, the dead populated the necropolis – an ancient cemetery of more than 1,200 tombs stretching over a mile along the road that led to Sardis.
In our own lives, hope and despair exist side-by-side as well. We need look for proof no further than the prayer requests that are spoken during Sunday worship or shared via the prayer chain.
This week alone, people lifted up those who are suffering from cancer, facing surgery, and awaiting a kidney donation. The requests for healing go on – heart attacks along with injuries and ailments that restrict mobility and independence. There are the families and friends of the recently deceased who are struggling in their grief.
The list goes on with circumstances that are both petition and praise. Travel has its own risks, yet it also offers opportunities for relaxation or reunion with loved ones. The new school year conjures both excitement for new learning and accomplishment as well as the anxiety of fitting in and keeping up. Birth comes with the joy of new life in addition to exhaustion from the midnight feedings, colic, and parade of dirty diapers.
Yet how many more needs are not voiced during worship each week? Certainly, those mentioned above are but a mere percentage of all the concerns that cross our minds day-to-day, week-to-week throughout our lives.
I suspect, based on observation and experience, that many people try to mask the things that burden them behind a calm façade. Much like the calcium carbonate pools cascading down from Hierapolis, dazzling the eye from a distance, their smiles belie the fault lines under the surface. Rather than reveal the cracks in their composure, they maintain a brave face to avoid revealing their true feelings from others.
They seem to have confused the sentiment behind Bobby McFerrin’s 1988 hit “Don’t Worry Be Happy” with Paul’s counsel to “be anxious about nothing” in Philippians 4:6. Whereas the song simply asks the listener to ignore their worries, Paul reveals that the believer need not be anxious when they turn over their concerns to God in prayer. He even goes on in verse 17 to assure them that “the peace of God… will guard your hearts and your minds.”
Scripture does not ask that we disregard the difficulties of life. Rather it offers hope in the midst of those difficulties. And that hope rests securely in God’s love.
The hot springs of Hierapolis did not offer that kind of certainty, nor did the sacrifices made at the Plutonium.
That confidence comes only from trusting in God.
*”For it is [God] who delivers you” promises Psalm 91:1-4.
*It is God who claims you as God’s own (Isaiah 43:1-2).
*And nothing can separate us from God’s love (Romans 8:35-39).
That is why we can share our troubles in prayer and be confident that God hears and cares for us amidst the hardest parts of life. And even more comforting is that death does not negate God’s promises toward us.
While the necropolis outside Hierapolis’ northern gate might cause one to question the healing properties of the city’s thermal springs, it also stands as a testament to hope. Some sarcophagi from the fourth century AD are engraved with the Greek letters alpha (Α) and omega (Ω) – a witness to the Christian believers entombed within. Even as the bases raise their residents in order to exalt the memory of the deceased, these engravings declare Jesus as “the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end” (Revelation 21:13).
Our hope – like theirs – is not about the world of the here-and-now, but the promise that God is in control and will bring all things to completion. With that assurance, we can turn over to God all the burdens of our hearts and trust that God will heal us - mind, body, and soul - more thoroughly than any hot spring.
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