A Matter of Conscience by Marcia Lee Laycock
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Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash
I read the notice with rising interest and excitement. There
were grants available for writers in Alberta! Really? The government would pay
me to write? I clicked on the icon and began reading. It didn’t take long for
me to decide I needed to print out the information so I could absorb it more
readily.
The printer was almost done when my husband arrived home
from a ministerial meeting. I knew the pastors in our area were discussing an
important issue that would have a serious effect on our community, so I stepped
out of my office to greet him.
“How did it go?”
“Well, pretty well I guess. Everyone’s on board, but no one
stepped up to spearhead the initiative, so I guess it’s going to be me.”
I knew having another thing on his agenda was not what he
wanted right now, but I also knew that he was passionate about doing whatever
he could to slow or perhaps even stop the installation of video lottery
terminals (VLT’s) in the hotels and bars in our town. We’d seen the devastating
effects of gambling addiction. The idea of our government sanctioning the
terminals that would make it even easier to fall into that addiction was high
on our list of things to fight against.
“How about you? How was your day?”
I remembered the document I’d just printed out and explained
that I was pretty excited about it. “From what I’ve read so far, I think I
might qualify.”
He smiled and nodded but I could tell the other topic was
heavy on his mind and heart. I headed for the kitchen. A hearty lunch and a
good cup of tea might help.
It was a couple of days before I found the time to read that
document about writers’ grants. My excitement built again as I read and ticked
off the criteria for applying. Then I read the ‘fine print,’ and my excitement
was quickly dampened. Part of the funding for these arts grants came from
gambling proceeds collected by the government. I groaned and almost tossed the
sheets of paper into the recycle bin. I stared at them for some time before
placing them on the corner of my desk. I’ll have a look again later, I
thought.
A few weeks went by. My husband was interviewed by local
media, both print and radio, about the problem with VLTs, explaining that
though it looked like the money raised would stay in the community, the
opposite was true. He detailed the devastating effects of gambling that got out
of control, telling the story of a friend who had lost his home and his family
because of the addiction. It noted that it seemed ironic that part of the
government’s plan was to set up more facilities that would deal with gambling
addiction, while still installing more and more terminals.
As time went on we began to realize that we were fighting an
uphill battle that we probably would not win. But we kept trying. My husband
gave one last interview just before the first VLT was installed in a local
hotel. On that same day I found that pile of paper that detailed the
opportunity for writers to acquire grants for pursuing their careers.
I mentioned my dilemma to a writer friend. She did not seem
to understand. “Why not redeem that money?” she asked. “You’ll be using it to
promote the gospel, so I wouldn’t worry about where it came from.”
I could see her point of view. Truth be told, I wanted to
agree. But as I prayed about it, something niggled at the back of my mind. How
could I accept money that came from the very thing my husband had campaigned
against? What if someone discovered that I had received one of these grants and
pointed a condemning finger, accusing us of hypocrisy? Christians were often
‘called out’ for such things and I knew how damaging it could be to a person’s
Christian witness in a community. As a pastor’s wife it could be even more
serious.
In the end I tossed the document into the recycle bin. As I
walked away, I felt the burden lift. The money would have been nice, but I knew
God would provide in other ways. My conscience was clear and I could now focus
on doing the work He had called me to do.
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