Exactly two years ago, I found myself descending into the bowels of the earth—into the underground city of Derinkuyu in Cappadocia, Türkiye. A vast subterranean labyrinth, carved out of volcanic rock, where some twenty thousand early Christians once lived, breathed, bartered and believed—in peace, but not in freedom.

Why underground? Because overground, swords waited.

So, they went under. Through narrow tunnels, single file, they entered safety. Not luxury—mind you—but sanctuary. There were markets and living quarters, even chapels. Air shafts ventilated their resolve, and stone doors sealed their fear. For centuries, their faith kept them hidden, and their silence kept them alive. Not once could the enemy reach them. The ground above was oblivious.

And now, today, I watch the news and I see tunnels again, not carved for prayer, but for war. Not built to protect life, but to prolong hate.

In Gaza, Hamas has done what those early Christians once did—gone underground. But there the resemblance ends. Because the Christians of Derinkuyu weren’t launching rockets from beneath their neighbours’ cradles, nor stockpiling weapons under churches. They didn’t blend faith with fury.

Hamas has burrowed beneath schools, hospitals, homes. Cowardice disguised as strategy. So that any retaliation on the above, however precise, brings with it cries of anguish and global condemnation. Civilians die. Innocents suffer. And while we rightly grieve their loss, we fail to ask—how clever to have their arsenal of hate, just under an area of innocence?

Yes, Israel drops bombs. No, the innocent shouldn’t be dying. But what would you do if you were chasing an enemy that hides beneath a kindergarten class?

Do you knock politely and wait for another October 7?

The truth is this: the people of Gaza need space above, while the terror beneath is rooted out. Temporary homes, not hashtags. Safe zones, not slogans. The surrounding nations, those loud with protest, should be louder in hospitality. Open your borders—not your press conferences.

Because every time you shed a tear over a bombed building, there’s a terrorist underground who grins.

Want to help Gaza? Then help the people above ground escape the grip of those below. Open borders, not just debates. Set up temporary shelters, not temporary outrage. It’s not Israel that’s holding them hostage—it’s Hamas, with concrete roofs above and rocket launchers below.

The tunnels I saw in Derinkuyu protected the persecuted. The tunnels in Gaza protect the persecutors.

And until we learn the difference, the death toll will keep rising—and the tears we shed will keep falling exactly where the terrorists want them to.

Next time, before you cry about Gaza, cry out to the countries around Gaza, Syria, Jordan and Egypt, to let those people in. Terrorists use every weapon they can use, even your tears and sympathy.

If you don’t believe me, visit Derinkuyu and find out, like I did…!

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