(Please read 1 Samuel 28.)In the mid-’90s, I pastored a small church in Des Moines, Iowa. When we moved there, images of “The Heartland” came to mind. Cornfields lined the roads as we neared the city. Stories of commitment to family, country, and honor were regaled. It was where the true America lived.
One December, our daughter came home with a letter from the principal of her elementary school informing us of an upcoming Winter Festival. When I inquired about the nature of the festival and my willingness to donate time and resources, if needed, I was told that because of our ever-increasingly diverse population, symbols denoting the season—in this case, Christmas, Hanukkah, etc.—were not allowed per board policy.
That’s when my gloves came off.
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