Cappadocia: The Underground Church
Cappadocia: The Underground Church
Exploring a fascinating region in central Turkey known for an extensive underground network of tunnels, chambers and entire cities dug deep into bedrock.
The 21-year-old bus attendant in Antalya asked me if I smoked weed.
Not only did I smoke bud everyday for more than twenty years, I actually created smoking paraphernalia that won first place in the High Times Cannabis Cup on seven different occasions!
He reached up to give me a high five as I finished my story. “That all changed when God showed up and changed me on the inside. I haven’t smoked weed since.”
His excitement dwindled as he told me he didn’t believe in God.
And so, for the next thirty minutes, while we waited for my night bus to Cappadocia to arrive, I shared with him—mostly over a translator app—exactly what I believe and why I believe it. It was one of those special moments when I just kept speaking, because I knew the Lord was after his soul, and I was simply the vessel being used to speak directly to this young man’s spirit, calling him to Life. As I spoke, I was given intimate details about his past and future.
As I stepped away from the ticket counter, his eyes were twinkling. He said in choppy English, “You are God.” Even though my bus was now waiting on me, I took a few extra moments to clarify. I hear from God, because I have a relationship with Him, but I am not God.
He smiled, and I boarded a seven-hour night bus from Antalya to Göreme.
As the charter bus pulled into our destination, the sun was rising over sharp, pointed rock formations. I knew I was in a special land.
The Korean mama I stayed with in Antalya had contacted another Korean connection who picked me up from the bus stop in a large white, top-heavy van. He drove fast around sharp corners carved through sun-kissed mountains as my wide eyes soaked in the morning sights.
Where were we going?
An Ancient Cave
All I was told is that I would be given free accommodation in a cave if I helped with their renovation project. I agreed to the terms before knowing that I would spend the next three days doing hard manual labor. This countryside villa that once housed a small church on the side of a mountain was now being renovated to serve as a Bible School for Afghan refugees.
For three days, four men worked tirelessly together: a Korean, an Afghan, an Iranian and me—an American. We built a security fence and retaining wall across the top ridge of the cliffside property and mixed a never-ending sludge of concrete as an Iranian refugee meticulously installed travertine tiles in the open-air courtyard.
Amazingly, this entire region was dotted with churches in some of the most unusual places. During my short six-day stay in Cappadocia, I prayed in various cliffside caverns, danced in a hollow mountain spire and worshiped the Creator four stories below the earth’s surface.
All were once active churches.
There are hundreds, if not thousands, of churches carved into the sides of cliffs in this region. Each congregation made its own wine. Because it was the custom of each individual church in this region to produce their own elements for communion, Cappadocia is known for its amazing wine.
New Wine
It was late August, and grapes hung ripe on the vine.
This was made evident when my new Afghan friend and I took a wrong turn on a sunrise jaunt through the mountainside. We found ourselves strolling through a vineyard in a gulley between two sharp cliffs with dwellings carved into each side.
As we wandered through the sun-dappled vineyard, we plucked grapes, apples and figs. We filled our bellies with fruit until we could eat no more. In the distance, an old Turkish man was also collecting grapes in large wicker baskets which he hoisted over his back and hauled to a central collection point.
We helped him load a few baskets onto his tractor, and he gifted us more grapes.
While we were enjoying a grape breakfast on our leisurely sunrise stroll, the Iranian and Korean were busy back at the villa digging. We returned to an incredible discovery. One of the flat stones edging the small tomato garden needed to be removed to make way for the new tile flooring. Moving it was no small feat. What appeared to be a small flat stone on the surface turned into an incredible surprise, as two-thirds of it was buried.
Long ago, the wine press this church used for stomping grapes was tipped up on its side near the wall and left abandoned. Over the years, dirt filled in around it leaving only the top edge exposed. Finding an ancient artifact of this magnitude brought great joy and sparked wonder.
How would the wine from this church have tasted?
