Come sundown, an endless forest of pine trees casts long, spindly shadows on the highways in this town that, locals like to say, has more churches per capita than any other on the face of the earth.

The scent of pine pervades every block here in DeRidder, where 76 churches minister to a population of 9,000. Mixed with the smell of smoke from trash burnings, there is a brooding, mystical air to the town, as if hermits and knights might pop out of the woods any moment and walk casually into J.C. Penney's.

On this stage where the Christian faith pervades daily life as thoroughly as sunshine and human speech, and pride in old Southern heroes is undimmed, the attention of pastors, churchgoers, children, and even the unbaptized was fixed last week on one man, Roy Moore.

The Alabama judge's highly visible crusade to keep a Ten Commandments monument in the rotunda of the state judicial building appears to have won the admiration of almost everyone in town. "I think the judge is doing a good thing," says Gregory Jones, pastor of the Church of God In Christ, a Pentecostal denomination. "The Ten Commandments are the basis of our good judgment and belong in the courts."

Although the monument's removal as ordered by a federal judge now appears likely, and Judge Moore has been suspended, his determination has energized many Christians far and near, especially in the so-called Bible Belt of the South.

The variety of responses here to Moore's crusade, say experts, indicates a growing complexity in passion and point of view among conservative Christians across the country, even at a moment when many believe their values are being challenged more than ever before. What remains to be seen is whether the "last stand" of Judge Moore's monument will galvanize renewed efforts by conservative Christians to affirm the Ten Commandments' role in national life.

"You cannot dismiss Moore and his followers as whackos, but you also have many Baptists and Evangelicals who will not follow Moore as far as ignoring the laws of the land," says Curtis Freeman, a professor at Duke University's Divinity school.

Here in DeRidder, most people interviewed for this story support Moore because they believe the Ten Commandments are a cornerstone of American intellectual thought, and that there is nothing wrong with acknowledging them in a public space.

Many also believe Moore was justified in flouting a court order to remove the monument. "He put his hand on the Bible and swore an oath to follow God and his religious convictions," says Jimmy Watson, while chatting with friends in Smitty's Barbershop in the center of town.

Like so many issues in the South, others here view Moore's defiance through a lens of Southern independence. "When it comes to this and other matters, I side with this and this," says William Smith, the owner and namesake of Smitty's, pointing to two tiny confederate flags sitting atop of his antique cash register.

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