Just like nothing (else) on earth: Mount Hope Baptist Church

By Tim Jon

This wasn’t what I came for; the morning of my visit to the subject of today’s verbal (and physical) foray.  I was planning on collecting images from an abandoned farm site in Ashburn and there are not many of them left in that area, but I discovered that the property was very much inhabited – so I took a look around and weighed my options. 

And this is where it gets interesting; I always pride myself on finding places that will leave an impression on all senses – inside and out – preferably for the better, and in this case, I’ll have to admit that – instead – the source of inspiration found me. 

I had simply made a couple of turns to reacquaint myself with the neighborhood around the old Village of Waxpool near the junction of Route 659 – Belmont Ridge Road – and Waxpool Road – just east of Beaverdam Reservoir, and found myself turning into the parking lot for Mount Hope Baptist Church. 

Now, there was a lot to like about this location: inspiring, historic architecture, an even older churchyard adjacent to the structure and lawn, (being a weekday morning) solitude, a distinct sense of individuality and character, a relative sense of peace, despite the proximity to nearby traffic, and even the name itself. 

It’s taken the time between my morning photo session and the day of this actual writing to fully filter in and absorb how important that little word ‘hope’ can be. Thinking over some of the memorable events between that visit and ‘now,’ of course I can recall some personal victories as well as losses; I would say the same for worldwide events as well. And, you know, sometimes it’s tempting – and seemingly easier, somehow – to mark time by tragic occurrences near and far. 

Maybe I’m a fool (and I’d have lots of folks agreeing with me here) for allowing the metaphor to carry me in this direction, but I prefer to think and feel that events transpired to have the facility named ‘Mount Hope’ to influence my life’s actions, thoughts and feelings. It’s kind of a case of deciding which ‘magnet’ had the greater power. I’d say, certainly not the one within me. 

Now, I mentioned earlier that the local Church possessed a sense of the historic: I believe their current sanctuary dates back to 1899, and the nearby Mount Hope Cemetery (looking at some of the fading headstone inscriptions) reaches even further into antiquity. 

Oh, and I mentioned the place-name of Waxpool at the outset: you can still see a re-creation of the Waxpool General Store and Post Office at the Loudoun County Heritage Farm Museum located in Claude Moore Park in Sterling, which we’ve visited together during an earlier story. In another lifetime, I covered the early timeline of that facility as well with its founding source of inspiration, Former Director of Agriculture, Bill Harrison. 

But, to return to our current tale of Hope. Now, without being able to place a numerical value on the item, I nearly always gain a sense of permanence and ‘groundedness’ in visiting a place with such obvious connections to the past. 

Going back to my initial theme of discovery, ‘Hope’ has existed here for quite some time. This leaves yet a deeper mark – at least to me – that I was drawn to the place. And, yes, the Church building itself is quite a sight: a mostly-wooden structure of white, with black shingling and steeple, leaving stark contrasts with both the sky and any nearby surroundings. 

If you take a drive through 21st Century Ashburn, Virginia – or pretty much anywhere in this part of the Commonwealth – I believe you’ll agree that the style of architecture from 1899 offers a sharp distinction with that of today’s structures, and – that many of the historic buildings we formerly used as landmarks to recall our surroundings are no longer standing. 

But ‘Hope’ has survived; I trust that this religious facility and its traditions will endure far into the future, including the times of your, and my personal gains and losses – as well as the world’s triumphs and tragedies. I choose to see the universe in this way, based on my own evidence; remember, Hope found me on that recent, adventurous morning in Ashburn. I’m sure it can find you, as well. 

Oh, and remember: the Church will have an easier time finding you if you keep an eye out for that tall, black steeple reaching out of the black roofed, white-painted wooden building just off Belmont Ridge Road. Just sayin.’ Sometimes, even Hope needs a little help.