But as the light grows dimmer

From atop of this hill it would seem something out of a postcard. It must have some sentimental value; the cars still park alongside the road every now and again to get one for the family photo album. They are just passing through this neck of the woods and took the 30 seconds from their trip to capture this old structure nestled in the hills of Red House, MD. Two-hundred years young and it's still worthy of a photograph. If only everything in this countryside aged that gracefully...

And on this peaceful autumn evening you could imagine that this old dinosaur was doing all right for herself, standing solid and tall as the sun descends behind the hills in my home town. A picture wouldn't suggest diminishing attendance, an aging congregation, a discouraging financial struggle, and a decade of pastors who just didn't give a damn about the good people of this community.

This is where my father went to church, and his father went to church, and his father before him. It's sad to know that in a matter of years this church is on the brink of vanishing altogether. Of course, this photo-worthy building will stand for many years to come. But Christianity 101 is that a church is not a building but a body of people. What I never thought would happen, or at least would never want to admit, is that all it will stand for is as a memorial to 220 years of faith and hope.

Faith...I owe it to lessons learned on the Sunday mornings of my childhood. But as the light grows dimmer the faith fades faster.

"And once your gone you can't come back, when you're out of the blue and into the black."

- Neil Young