by Dr. Mark Creech
Director of Government Relations
Return America
There is a familiar argument often heard in conservative and Christian public policy circles: some issues matter more than others. We are told that as long as progress is made on issues like life, family, and religious liberty, concerns about gambling, alcohol expansion, marijuana legalization, or other forms of legalized vice should be considered secondary – regrettable perhaps, but not decisive.
It is a compelling argument.
It is also a dangerous one.
No fair-minded person would deny that significant pro-life and pro-family policies have been advanced by the North Carolina General Assembly in recent years. Nor should anyone fail to express gratitude for the public servants who have labored long and, in many respects, effectively.
But we can be grateful for what is right without being silent about what is wrong. In fact, true gratitude demands that we do both.
We are admonished not to let “a few policy disagreements” overshadow broader accomplishments. However, when those so-called disagreements involve the expansion of something like gambling – an industry that feeds on loss and leaves behind real human carnage – they cannot be dismissed as simply peripheral. They go to the heart of what kind of society we are building.
Some issues don’t distract from a record – they define it.
This is not a new argument to me.
Over the years, I have heard it repeatedly from lawmakers, from public policy leaders, and, to my chagrin, even from some well-meaning Christians. I have been urged, more than once, to step away from these so-called “lesser issues.” I have been told that focusing on gambling, alcohol, marijuana legalization, or similar concerns risks undermining my credibility, narrowing my influence, and diminishing my effectiveness as an advocate. I should focus on the more important, the more urgent matters.
In other words, I have been advised that if I want to be taken seriously, I should be willing to treat these problems as secondary, of lesser consequence.
That counsel is based on a false assumption. If anything, the opposite is true.
A witness that is selective in its convictions is not strengthened. Instead, it is weakened. A voice that speaks clearly on some moral issues while remaining silent on others does not gain credibility; it forfeits it. For what we choose not to address often speaks as loudly as what we do.
The question is not whether addressing these issues costs something. The question is whether failing to address them costs more.
As the great Reformer, Martin Luther, warned:
“If I profess with the loudest voice and clearest exposition every portion of the truth of God except precisely that little point which the world and the devil are at that moment attacking, I am not confessing Christ… Where the battle rages, there the loyalty of the soldier is proved… and to be steady on all the battlefield besides is mere flight and disgrace if he flinches at that point.”
That insight cuts to the very core of the matter.
The issue is not whether we are faithful in general. The issue is whether we are faithful in all the matters at hand.
The suggestion that forms of legalized vice should be set aside in light of more “important” victories reflects a flawed understanding of both public policy and moral order.
These are not minor concerns – they are foundational.
A society does not flourish simply because it enacts good laws in certain areas while simultaneously expanding industries that profit from addiction, exploitation, and human weakness. It cannot strengthen the family with one hand while undermining it with the other.
There is an old story, often told, about a young boy in the Netherlands who discovered a small leak in a dike that protected his village from the sea. Seeing the danger, he placed his finger in the hole to stop the flow of water. All through the night, he remained there cold, alone, and unmoving, until help finally arrived.
He understood something that many forget: small breaches are never truly small. Left unattended, they grow. What begins as a trickle can become a torrent, and what seems insignificant can, in time, bring complete destruction.
And so it is with vice in public life.
What is dismissed as minor, tolerated as manageable, or labeled “lesser” does not remain contained. It widens. It deepens. Eventually, it threatens the very structures we claim to protect.
A house may look strong, but termites eating it from within will eventually bring it down.
You don’t ignore poison in a city’s water supply because the schools are strong and the economy is growing. Even a small amount contaminates everything.
That is the danger of treating vice as a secondary issue. It does not remain contained. It always spreads.
Gambling, in particular, is not a neutral policy matter. It is a state-sanctioned system that depends upon loss. It is often concentrated among those who can least afford it. It feeds on compulsion, distorts economic priorities, and leaves behind a wake of personal and familial devastation no amount of revenue can possibly justify.
To suggest or imply that such concerns are “secondary” is to misunderstand the significance of their reach.
They are not secondary because they do not affect life – they do.
They are not secondary because they do not affect families – they do.
They are not secondary because they do not affect morality – they do, profoundly.
In truth, they cut across every category that Christians claim to value.
One cannot meaningfully champion the protection of unborn life while at the same time supporting policies that erode the stability, integrity, and moral fabric of the homes those children are born into. It would certainly be wrong to diminish the value of life, but it would be just as wrong not to protect the conditions in which life can flourish.
This is not an either-or – it is a matter of the whole.
This is not a matter of diminishing the good that has been done. It is a matter of refusing to redefine what is good.
Scripture reminds us, “Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil” (Isaiah 5:20). That warning does not apply only to the most obvious moral evils. It applies wherever we are tempted to excuse, minimize, or reclassify what we know to be harmful.
The question, then, is never whether a leader has done much good. The question is whether we are willing to speak truthfully about the whole record – without allowing success in one area to justify compromise or failure in another.
Because in the end, a society is not judged only by the good it promotes, but also by the evil it permits, and especially by the evil it profits from.
What many call ‘secondary’ today will shape the society we live in tomorrow.
We cannot build a culture of life on a foundation of vice.
