Some people look at this piece of silver or gold jewelry in the James Avery line and they see fishing lures — period.

But other shoppers see the same item and they think of these words of Jesus: “Follow me and I will make you fishers of men.” This is especially true if they have completed a United Methodist Walk to Emmaus weekend, or some other renewal program inspired by the Catholic Cursillo movement.

“Most of our customers purchase and wear that for the religious symbolism,” said Paul Avery, executive vice president of the company that his father started in a garage. “But there is a group that has no clue what it means. … They just happen to like it. They like to fish or whatever.”

So one man’s ring of fishing lures is another man’s symbol of faith.

The key is that there is an element of mystery to symbols of this kind, said another veteran of this family-driven firm based in Kerrville, an arts-friendly community in the Texas Hill Country.

“It’s interesting that you would never find this in traditional church history, this symbol, but you would find the scriptural reference to being fishers of men,” said Howell Ridout, the company’s vice president of marketing and development.

This particular bracelet started out as a “grassroots thing that just happened,” he explained. Emmaus Walk veterans “actually started using fishing tackle from the hardware store” to remind themselves of the importance of this biblical passage. Now, this modern bracelet is one of the company’s most popular items.

Then again, the current catalogue also contains the very first cross that founder James Avery designed in 1954, a variation on a classic Latin design. Some of the Christian and Jewish symbolism used in this jewelry is truly ancient, while other pieces offer modern variations on biblical themes — such as a bare cross made of nails.

In recent years, Ridout explained, religious items have made up 25 percent of the company’s line and about 25 percent of its sales. However, nearly 80 percent of all James Avery customers at one time or another purchase at least one item of religious jewelry. Clearly, these items are central to the company’s identity, he said.

For centuries, religious symbolism has been at the heart of some forms of faith. What is unusual about the James Avery story is that almost all of the company’s stores — there will be 59 by the year’s end — are in the Bible Belt and 49 are in Texas.

While its customer base includes a wide range of believers, the chain could not succeed in the region in which it is succeeding without appealing to Baptists and other conservative Protestants who for generations have viewed religious symbolism as too “high church,” if not too Catholic.

Then again, the Hill Country location is crucial. Its culture blends art elements from the American Midwest, from Germans settlers, from rustic ranches across the Southwestern and, of course, from Spanish influences. The result is a unique aesthetic expressed in stone, leather, wood and pounded silver.

“Texas is, geographically, a very unique area,” said Paul Avery. “You have the deep Hispanic culture that is so rooted in that Catholic base. Then you have more of the Protestant side of that, the non-Catholic. And there’s a blend of those two cultures that probably allows a lot of … natural evolution.”

These hills also are full of church youth camps, a network that exposed James Avery’s work to young seekers as the 1960s veered into the “Jesus Movement” of the 1970s, which led into an era of charismatic renewal in mainline churches and waves of changes in how many Americans worship.

These days, art and even elements of liturgy can be found in a wide variety of Protestant sanctuaries, Ridout said. Churches of all kinds are moving in a more visual, experiential direction.

It has become common to see Texans wearing crosses — or perhaps symbolic fishing lures — as they go to work, to school, to the grocery store or to church.

“I think there are some clues there, both as to what is acceptable and to what’s sought after and comfortable,” Ridout said. These changes symbolize “what’s meaningful to people, what truly motivates them.”

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Under the headline “Super Bowl Censorship,” it defended the Christian group’s right to buy a prime chunk of airtime, even if the ad focused on the decision by an ailing Pam Tebow to ignore her doctors’ advice to abort her fifth child — a son named Tim. Protests by the National Organization for Women, NARAL Pro-Choice America and others, it said, were “puzzling and dismaying.”

“The would-be censors are on the wrong track,” proclaimed the Times. “Instead of trying to silence an opponent, advocates for allowing women to make their own decisions about whether to have a child should be using the Super Bowl spotlight to convey what their movement is all about. … Viewers can watch and judge for themselves. Or they can get up from the couch and get a sandwich.”

Where should Focus on the Family President Jim Daly place this memento? After all, it represents a major event during the final days of founder Dr. James Dobson, the child psychologist who over three decades built one of America’s most powerful radio franchises and evangelical ministries. Dobson’s farewell broadcast was Feb. 26th.

Daly, who became Focus on the Family president in 2005, is thinking about putting the framed editorial between two photos. In one, Daly is standing with President George W. Bush. In the other, he is standing with President Barack Obama.

“I’ll find a spot,” he said. “That would be a rather symbolic place to put it.”

Daly has worked for Focus on the Family for two decades, focusing on building a global audience of 200 million listeners. He is well aware that some loyalists on the legendary Focus on the Family mailing list — a major resource when raising money or inspiring grassroots support on hot issues — are worried about recent strategic moves.

Take, for example, Daly’s decision to attend an Obama White House conference on fatherhood. Some also questioned the decision not to fight CBS over the right to explicitly mention abortion in the Super Bowl ad.

“I don’t want to underestimate their concerns,” said Daly. “There are people who want to see more of the hard-hitting approach. The thing is, I’m not sure that approach still works today.”

While it’s impossible to say if Focus on the Family will take another Super Bowl plunge, the mainstream-media approach used in the Tebow family ad is a sign to what lies ahead, and not just because the Heisman Trophy winner will soon be playing in nearby Denver.

The goal all along was to use the brief advertisement to point viewers toward a longer version of the Tebow story at FocusOnTheFamily.com, said spokesman Gary Schneeberger. Thus, the crucial post-Super Bowl numbers were these — 92 million of the 106 million who watched the game told researchers they saw the Tebow ad. Among those who did, 6 percent said the spot and the furor surrounding it made them think twice about their beliefs on abortion. In all, about 1.5 million people went online to watch the more detailed Tebow feature.

Daly and Schneeberger insisted that there was no sneaky, brilliant strategy to hide the ad’s contents, other than their desire to keep pressure off Tebow as he prepared for his final college bowl game. Nevertheless, a giant media storm was triggered by an early report that Focus on the Family was planning a Super Bowl ad, coupled with a later wire-service story that the Tebows were involved. The result, said Schneeberger, was the equivalent of $32 million worth of free ink and airtime in national media.

“The people who didn’t approve of the ad that they had never seen ended up doing all of our talking points for us,” he said. “We didn’t have to say anything else.”

The key lesson, agreed Daly, was that it’s possible to “reach out and hold a dialogue” with an audience larger than the Focus on the Family mailing list. The Super Bowl project proved that the ministry could frame a message in such a way that “people outside of our niche had a chance to catch it and it does appear that some caught it. We think that’s progress.”

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The typical faith-based indie has a tiny budget and most of the actors are amateurs or second stringers from television. It doesn’t take much money to promote one because churches are eager to hold pre-release screenings that fire up clergy and volunteers to spread the word — on foot and online.

Southern Baptist entrepreneurs in Georgia made the pro-marriage drama “Fireproof” for $500,000 and it grossed $40 million at the box office, before the DVDs started reaching Bible bookstores. The new Possibility Pictures team spent only $3 million making its first film, “Letters To God,” which opens this week.

Studio people can do the math.

“Lots of people are interested in that ‘Fireproof’ business model,” said Patrick Doughtie, who wrote the original “Letters To God” screenplay and helped direct the movie. “They don’t really know what they’re looking for in terms of content, but they know that these movies are reaching an audience and making some money.”

Doughtie, on the other hand, knew exactly what he wanted to see when “Letters To God” reached movie screens. He began studying screenwriting in order to tell a highly personal story based on the life of his son, Tyler, who died in 2005 at the age of 9 after a battle with an aggressive brain tumor.

After wrestling with anger and depression, Doughtie finally realized how much his son’s faith had touched the lives of the people around him, old and young, and especially other members of Grace Baptist Church in Nashville.

This provided the hook for a fictional story about a boy named Tyler who has brain cancer and begins writing letters to God full of questions about his own life, as well as prayers for his family and friends as they struggle with their fears that he will die. The letters end up in the hands of a postal worker who is struggling with alcoholism and the break-up of his own family.

After he had finished the basic script, Doughtie found a notebook in which Tyler had written some letters to God. This made him even more determined to find producers who were willing to tell the story with the faith element intact.

“All kinds of people are touched by cancer and they’re going to know what this movie is all about,” he said, days before the movie’s April 9 release in 900 theaters nationwide. “But I didn’t want to write a story that was just about cancer. I wanted to write a story about hope and about what needs to happen after a battle with cancer.”

For years, the makers of these faith-driven films have insisted that they can serve as evangelistic tools to reach nonbelievers — even though they are full of hymns, prayers, church services, mini-sermons and other acts of God that tend to appeal to people who are already in church pews.

Sure enough, most of the crucial scenes in “Letters To God” pivot on confessions of faith, accompanied by lilting flutes or heavenly choirs.

Even the most painful moments are squeaky clean. The alcoholic mailman doesn’t shout a single curse when he hits rock bottom or when his wise local bartender refuses to serve him another drink. Tyler’s mother, Maddy, is already a widow and, by the end of the movie, knows that she will lose her youngest son. Still, she loses her cool only once — when her own mother reminds her of a biblical parable about faith. She shouts: “I wish everyone would stop quoting the Bible to me. It’s not curing my son.”

Doughtie said that he hopes nonbelievers will see “Letters To God,” but he knows they will not be the primary audience. More than anything else, he hopes the movie will inspire church leaders to learn how to minister to families affected by cancer.

“People wanted to help us, but they didn’t know how,” said Doughtie. “They loved us. They prayed for us. They brought us casseroles. They wanted to help. … But what are you supposed to do after you pat someone on the back and say, ‘Hey, I’m sorry you lost your kid’?

“What we have to do is remove the stigma from childhood cancer. People in our churches need to take their blinders off and get more involved with cancer families.”

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Month after month, Towns faced two house payments — a real family crisis. Thus, the veteran Bible professor decided to try something that he considered a radical, “Old Testament thing.” In addition to praying that someone would buy the house back in Chicago, Towns and his wife Ruth began fasting on the day that mortgage was due.

Not much happened, but they kept praying and fasting.

After a year, the house sold and Towns has been pondering this question ever since: What role did their fasting play in solving this personal problem?

“What I have learned is that there is much more to fasting than trying to get something from God, because we cannot say what God will do,” said Towns, the author of 100-plus books and dean of the School of Religion at Liberty.

“You are really fasting because you want a closer relationship to God. … There are fasts where you are seeking an end result — like the deliverance of a person from addiction. But that is not the norm. That’s not the main reason God wants us to fast.”

These kinds of mysteries have driven Towns to do something that may sound strange for an evangelical Protestant. He has written three books about fasting, including the recent “The Beginner’s Guide to Fasting,” and has already finished a fourth book on this topic.

Fasting, of course, is a familiar practice for Jews, who observe a strict fast on Yom Kippur (“Day of Atonement”). Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset during the month of Ramadan and believers in many other religions also practice forms of fasting.

Roman Catholics and Eastern Orthodox Christians fast several times during the church year, especially in the pre-Easter season of Lent — which began this past week. Some modern Catholics continue to fast from meat during Lent, while the Orthodox strive not to eat meat or dairy products.

This practice — eliminating specific forms of food from the diet — is one of several different forms of fasting found in the Bible and in religious history, noted Towns. In the Book of Daniel, the prophet and his friends only ate vegetables and water for 10 days. The leader of the Methodist renewal movement, John Wesley, often fasted for 10 days before major conferences, eating only whole-grain breads and drinking water.

Another common practice, which Towns considers a “normal” fast, is to eat nothing, while continuing to drink liquids. The Gospel of Luke observes that during a 40-day fast Jesus “ate nothing and afterward, when he had ended, he was hungry.”

An “absolute” fast, said Towns, eliminates both solid food and liquids, as in St. Paul’s three-day fast after his conversion on the Damascus road. This strict form of fasting is not for beginners and never should exceed three days, he said. On Mount Sinai, Moses is said to have survived a 40-day fast without food or drink — which would clearly be miraculous.

Believers who are new to fasting should seek guidance from experienced clergy and even from doctors, stressed Towns. The bottom line: It isn’t physically or spiritually wise to “put God to the test by rushing off and doing something irrational,” he said.

In the past decade or so, interest in spiritual disciplines such as fasting is on the rise among many Protestants, including evangelicals and those in Pentecostal or “charismatic” movements, said Towns. This is interesting because, at the same time, many Americans seem anxious not to be labeled as religious “fanatics,” “nuts” or “extremists.”

Yet many Americans seem open to new forms of religious experience.

“I think that there’s a growing interest in spirituality among all kinds of people — people inside the church and people outside the church, as well,” said Towns. “Some people are willing to try all kinds of things right now, including some things that I think are very dangerous.

“People may hear about fasting and say, ‘That sounds interesting. That sounds powerful. I think I’ll give that a try.’ … The issue is whether they have the commitment to stick to it. I’m concerned that most people aren’t willing to pay a price to experience the presence of God.”

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That’s true in the current debates about health care, poverty and even gay marriage, he said, at the recent National Prayer Breakfast.

“Surely we can agree to find common ground when possible, parting ways when necessary,” said Obama. “But in doing so, let us be guided by our faith and by prayer. For while prayer can buck us up when we are down, keep us calm in a storm, while prayer can stiffen our spines to surmount an obstacle — and I assure you I’m praying a lot these days — prayer can also do something else. It can touch our hearts with humility. …

“Through faith, but not through faith alone, we can unite people to serve the common good.”

But while the president preached unity, this year’s National Prayer Breakfast was surrounded by controversy. There were signs this event on the semi-official Washington, D.C., calendar may no longer be able to serve as a safe forum in which a wide variety of religious and political leaders can unite their voices. The breakfasts began in 1953 and every president since Dwight Eisenhower has taken part.

Before the event, the leaders of the watchdog group Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington sent a letter to the White House and to Congressional leaders calling for a boycott. They also urged C-Span not to televise the breakfast. Meanwhile, a coalition of gay-rights activists and religious liberals announced a series of alternative “American Prayer Hour” events in Washington and other cities nationwide.

Both groups focused intense criticism on The Fellowship, the nondenominational Christian organization that sponsors the prayer breakfast and similar networking events in Washington and around the world. The key is that numerous Ugandan leaders are active in Fellowship activities in that country, including the politician who introduced anti-gay legislation that includes capital punishment for some offenses.

The ethics group’s letter accused this organization — often called “The Family” — of being a “cult-like secret society with unknown motivations and backing” that preaches an “unconventional brand of Christianity focusing on meeting Jesus ‘man-to-man.’ ” The American Prayer Hour coalition simply called it a “secretive fundamentalist organization.” The New York Times noted that the group has no “identifiable Internet site, no office number and no official spokesman.”

However, some religious conservatives have also expressed doubts about The Fellowship. In an investigation of its property holdings in and around Washington, World magazine called attention to The Fellowship’s “muddy theology,” its “distain for the established church” and an emphasis on privacy that “grew into an obsessive culture of secrecy.”

Describing the participants in Fellowship events, Republican Sen. James Inhofe of Oklahoma told World: “Some of them are Muslims. Some of them are Christians. But they meet in the spirit of Jesus, so it’s not a denominational thing, it’s not even a Christian thing, it’s a Jesus thing.”

The ultimate issue is that this organization needs to admit that it exists and talk openly about its activities and goals, said journalist Jeff Sharlet, author of “The Family: The Secret Fundamentalism at the Heart of American Power.” It’s a sign of progress, for example, that many Americans who are active in the organization have rejected the Ugandan legislation and communicated their dismay to their contacts in Uganda.

When it comes to the National Prayer Breakfast, the Fellowship’s leaders “should go completely public,” said Sharlet, by email. They should “acknowledge their existence, the fact that this is their event, make their account of it accountable (it was not Ike’s idea), explain the process by which people are invited and … make explicit that this is about consecrating leadership to Jesus. Everybody is welcome, but it’s about Jesus.”

This kind of transparency might accelerate what already seems to be happening. Some leaders — on the left and right — might reject the big-tent approach offered by the National Prayer Breakfast and create their own events, which could focus on more explicit messages about faith and politics.

If the Fellowship’s leaders are truly “serious about what they’re about,” noted Sharlet, this “would be great by their lights. They would lose a lot of clout, but the prayer breakfast movement would at last become an actual movement, of many strands.”

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According to a top strategist in the presidential campaign of Sen. John McCain, Sarah Palin believed that the decision to pick her as the Arizona Republican’s running mate was actually made by Almighty God.

Translated into the logic of an Associated Press report, this political theology sounded like this.

“In an interview with the CBS news magazine ‘60 Minutes,’ Steve Schmidt described Palin as ‘very calm — nonplussed’ after McCain met with her at his Arizona ranch just before putting her on the Republican ticket. … Schmidt said he asked Palin about her serenity in the face of becoming ‘one of the most famous people in the world.’ He quoted her as saying, ‘It’s God’s plan.’ “

The Washington Post headline proclaimed, “McCain aide: Palin believed candidacy ‘God’s plan.’ “

After this latest Palin firestorm it’s time to ask: “Why can’t journalists learn to understand how ordinary evangelicals talk?”

To make matters worse, readers have no chance to understand this private, second-hand quotation because it has been stripped of all context. There is no way to know if this snippet is the entire Palin quote or merely what Schmidt has chosen to share as part of the ongoing fighting between factions inside McCain’s failed campaign.

The big question: Did Palin say her nomination was part of “God’s plan for her life” or did she, as implied, dare to claim that it was part of “God’s plan for America”? Most press reports have implied the latter, linking her faith-based confidence with speculation that she will run for president.

This has made her an easy target for her critics — again.

“Palin isn’t a minister or priest. She isn’t a bishop. She is a celebrity,” noted Andrew Sullivan, on his Atlantic Monthly website. “When she says ‘it’s God’s will,’ she is saying, it seems to me, either that her destiny is foretold as a modern day Esther … or that it doesn’t matter what decisions she makes in office because God is in charge. So she is either filled with delusions of grandeur and prone to say things that believing Christians keep private out of humility; or she thinks she’s some kind of Messiah figure.”

However, anyone with a working knowledge of evangelical lingo will understand that what Palin probably said was that this stunning door onto the national stage was, win or lose, part of “God’s plan” for her life.

This is the approach that she consistently uses in her memoir, “Going Rogue,” when discussing the twists and turns in her life — from an unexpected chance to climb the political ladder in Alaska to the challenge of an unexpected pregnancy, leading to the birth of a child with special needs.

In other words, Palin believes in a God who is mysteriously working through the choices and events — painful and joyful — that have shaped her life. This is a perfectly ordinary belief among millions of evangelical Protestants and, truth be told, many other believers as well.

It may help to recall that, during the 2008 campaign, Charlie Gibson of ABC News struggled to understand another piece of evangelical-speak drawn from Palin remarks about the Iraq War.

The governor told a church audience: “Pray for our military men and women who are striving to do what is right. Also, for this country, that our leaders, our national leaders, are sending (soldiers) out on a task that is from God. That’s what we have to make sure that we’re praying for, that there is a plan and that that plan is God’s plan.”

However, in his interview with Palin, Gibson said: “You said recently, in your old church, ‘Our national leaders are sending U.S. soldiers on a task that is from God.’ Are we fighting a holy war?”

Palin responded: “You know, I don’t know if that was my exact quote.”

Gibson fired back: “Exact words.”

Not exactly. Palin was reminding the worshipers to pray that God had a plan in Iraq and that decisions made by America’s leaders would be consistent with that plan. She was not, as Gibson said, claiming that this was a certainty.

The bottom line: It may be time to circulate a basic “How Evangelicals Talk” phrase book that can be used in elite newsrooms, much like the one that journalists needed when Gov. Jimmy “born again” Carter first emerged on the national scene.

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Nevertheless, it still makes news when believers vow to act on this conviction.

“Through the centuries, Christianity has taught that civil disobedience is not only permitted, but sometimes required,” proclaimed a coalition of Catholic, Orthodox and evangelical Protestants on Nov. 20, in their 4,700-word “Manhattan Declaration.”

“There is no more eloquent defense of the rights and duties of religious conscience than the one offered by Martin Luther King, Jr., in his Letter from a Birmingham Jail. … King’s willingness to go to jail, rather than comply with legal injustice, was exemplary and inspiring.”

Thus, the declaration’s authors vowed to reject “any edict that purports to compel our institutions” to compromise on centuries of doctrine about marriage, human sexuality and the sanctity of human life. The text was written by evangelical activist Charles Colson, church historian Timothy George of the evangelical Beeson Divinity School and the Catholic scholar Robert George of Princeton University.

The Los Angeles Times offered an especially brutal evaluation of the text, claiming that it offered a “specious invocation of King” and that its logic was ultimately “irresponsible and dangerous.”

But the editorial board reserved its strongest words for the Catholics bishops who signed, asking if they considered “how their endorsement of lawbreaking in a higher cause might embolden the antiabortion terrorists they claim to condemn? Did they stop to think that, by reserving the right to resist laws they don’t like, they forfeit the authority to intervene in the enactment of those laws, as they have done in the congressional debate over healthcare reform?”

So far, 19 Catholic bishops and archbishops have signed, including New York Archbishop Timothy Dolan, Cardinal Justin Rigali of Philadelphia, Archbishop Donald Wuerl of Washington, D.C., and the Catholic shepherds in Detroit, Denver, Minneapolis-St. Paul, Phoenix and Pittsburgh, among other cities.

At mid-week, the project (ManhattanDeclaration.org) had attracted about 230,000 endorsements, including those of famous evangelicals such as Focus on the Family founder James Dobson, National Association of Evangelicals President Leith Anderson, Evangelicals for Social Action Director Ron Sider and Bishop Henry Jackson, Jr., a Pentecostal leader in the Washington, D.C., area. Orthodox leaders who have signed include Metropolitan Jonah Paffhausen of the Orthodox Church in America and Wichita (Kan.) Bishop Basil Essey of the Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese.

Responding to claims that the declaration is merely a partisan attack on President Barack Obama, Colson noted that it states that in the Roe v. Wade era, “elected officials and appointees of both major political parties have been complicit in giving legal sanction to the ‘Culture of Death.’ ”

On sexuality, the document stresses that some people are “disposed towards homosexual and polyamorous conduct and relationships, just as there are those who are disposed towards other forms of immoral conduct. … We, no less than they, are sinners who have fallen short of God’s intention for our lives. We, no less than they, are in constant need of God’s patience, love and forgiveness.”

While nothing in the Manhattan Declaration is truly new, arguments about its call for civil disobedience will help draw sharper lines between traditional believers and the powers that be in an increasingly diverse and secular America, said Dr. H. Tristram Engelhardt, Jr., senior editor of the Christian Bioethics journal at Oxford University. He is professor emeritus at the Baylor College of Medicine and a philosophy professor at Rice University.

“This document is the product of a political coalition, but it’s not political in the same sense that the tax code is political,” said Engelhardt, who is advising several Eastern Orthodox leaders who are studying the text. “This is political in the sense that these Christians are working together on certain issues that have moral and public implications.”

The reality is that its authors believe there are “certain God-ordained truths” that continue to have authority and weight in American life, he said. The big question: Are they right or wrong?

“You could make a case,” concluded Engelhardt, “that anyone who recites the Nicene Creed, or anyone who believes that God has established any requirements for how we are supposed to live our lives can now be called a Fundamentalist in the context of this secular culture. … That is what this debate is actually about.”

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But there was one big complication. Steven didn’t want to abandon his buddy Michael Oher (pronounced “Oar”), a street kid who slept on their floor most nights. “Big Mike” was afraid to return to the bleak foster homes he knew after police tore him away from his mother, her crack pipe and her 13 children.

So Henderson took both boys to Briarcrest Christian School on the rich side of town, hoping for scholarships that would make a grandmother’s dream come true. School officials were impressed by Steven’s grades. Coaches were impressed that Oher was 6-foot-4, weighed 340 pounds, could dunk a basketball and looked like God’s gift to quarterbacks who needed a left tackle to guard their “blind side.”

The rest is a long story, one that weaves together themes of race, sports, money and education. But a key player in the real-life version of “The Blind Side” stressed that this is also a story about faith.

“We’re convinced that faith guided and controlled this whole thing,” said Leigh Anne Tuohy, the steel-magnolia matriarch of the rich, white, evangelical family that finally embraced Oher as a son, after providing food, shelter and clothing. “We absolutely believe that none of this was a fluke. … This was God-driven from the start.”

Author Michael Lewis didn’t hide that faith element while writing “The Blind Side: Evolution of a Game,” a bestseller that mixed Oher’s story with information about how the left-tackle position evolved into a crucial, and lucrative, slot in any National Football League offense. Then writer-director John Lee Hancock included religious details about the family in the new movie, while avoiding heavy-handed sermons. “The Blind Side” grossed $34 million at the box office on its opening weekend, while scoring a rare A-plus CinemaScore audience rating.

On screen, the Tuohys attend plenty of sporting events. After all, Sean was a University of Mississippi hoops star and Leigh Ann was an Ole Miss cheerleader. Their daughter Collins is both a cheerleader and volleyball star, again at Ole Miss, and their young son, Sean Jr., seems to have inherited his father’s gifts as a tireless sports entrepreneur.

The movie does skip the ritual when everyone heads to Grace Evangelical Church, a growing congregation the family helped start. Oher began attending soon after the wet winter night when the family first spotted the shivering giant in shorts and a floppy shirt, walking back to the shelter of the warm Briarcrest gymnasium.

Leigh Anne Tuohy said that “from day one,” Oher was the first person ready to go on Sunday mornings. Church was part of everyday life, like homework, piano lessons and trips to sports events and practices.

The key is that expressions of faith were a natural part of this true story, said actress Sandra Bullock, who plays Leigh Anne. No one was faking anything.

“This family, they were themselves for no other benefit other than because they wanted to reach out, lend a hand, and had no idea that they would get a son in return,” she told reporters, after a press screening of “The Blind Side.” Bullock said that, while making the movie, she regained a little “faith in those who say they represent a faith. … I’ve finally met people that walk the walk.”

While Tuohy stressed that she can now see God’s work in the events that changed Oher’s life, and their family, that doesn’t mean the details were clear at the time.

The family had reached out to others before, but not to the same degree. Now, it’s impossible not to think about how many other talented, gifted children are, literally, on the run in America’s cities, she said. What is the family supposed to do now? What should Oher do, now that he plays for the NFL’s Baltimore Ravens?

After one of her Southern chuckles that Bullock had to master to play her on screen, Tuohy said that it’s hard to talk about the future when she is still trying to understand the wild changes that have changed her family forever.

“A miracle is what this is,” she said. “Childbirth is easier to explain than all of this.”

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A journalist was chasing Wasilla Bible Church members in the aisles, trying to convince somebody, anybody, to dish about his flock’s most famous church lady. The craziness had started as soon as Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin became the GOP’s nominee for vice president.

Suddenly, there were satellite dishes out front and worshippers were trapped inside, trying to escape to the safety of their cars in the parking lot.

Kroon tried to control the chaos, telling journalists they were free to participate in worship services, but not to film or interrupt them. The pastor also asked them not to “fish for interviews” as members arrived or departed. He thought these rules were enough. He was wrong.

“We can look back and say, ‘Whoa. We really should have done this or that differently,’ ” said Kroon. “I was naive enough to think this wasn’t going to affect us — but it did. We ended up scrambling to get from day to day. We had that deer in the headlights look for quite a while.”

Wasilla Bible Church leaders encountered professionals from the New York Times, CNN, Time, Fox, the major television networks and just about everyone else — from America and around the world. Flocks of alleged journalists arrived from every corner of the World Wide Web, as well.

After hurricane Palin, Kroon met with management consultant James Stamoolis and prepared some tips for clergy who struggle with media attention — wanted or unwanted. Some of those tips are relevant again in Wasilla, since Palin’s faith plays a big role in her new “Going Rogue” memoir. Here’s a sample, drawn from a talk with Kroon.

* Never accept an interview without confirming a reporter’s identity and his or her current employer. Just because someone has written for the Associated Press doesn’t mean that he isn’t currently a blogger for PalinIsADummy.org or something like that.

* Help reporters understand that private communications between clergy and the faithful are, in fact, privileged and guarded by the same kinds of laws that shield reporters and their sources.

* Keep contact information for community leaders — such as telephone numbers and email addresses for church elders — in a firewall-protected section of your congregation’s website. Post contact information for staffers who are prepared to handle media requests in a timely manner.

* Ask if reporters or producers have experience covering religion news. Some journalists sincerely want factual information that will help them cover a story fairly and accurately, while others “are in a hurry and they simply want what they want. You may think you’re helping them understand who you are and what you believe, but they just want a good quote and then they’re moving on,” said Kroon.

* It may help to post information about your denomination or tradition, including frequently asked questions about worship, media relations, how the congregation is governed and the meaning of unique terms (such as “born again” or “charismatic”) that newcomers will encounter.

* Understand that a two-hour interview may be reduced to 20 seconds and that the journalist decides what goes in that soundbite. So avoid lectures and focus on the key points that you must make to explain your congregation’s point of view. It’s also important to remember that silence is the reporter’s problem, not your problem.

* In the Internet age, there is no reason that a pastor cannot — as a condition for talking to a reporter — insist on the right to record and transcribe an interview. That way, the professionals on both sides of the transaction know that they are on the record and the results, if needed to clarify a point, can be posted online or emailed to a publisher.

Kroon stressed that he was truly impressed by many of the journalists, especially with their commitment to accuracy and fairness. They wanted to get the story right. But others arrived in Wasilla with their minds clamped shut. They came to get the story that they already knew that they wanted to write.

“Pastors need to understand that there are really good reporters and there are some really bad ones, too,” he said. “You also have to understand that even the really good ones are going to push you to your boundary lines. That’s what they do.”

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That’s certainly what musician Phillip Magness experienced when he took a sabbatical at Bethany Lutheran Church in Naperville, Ill., and began a research tour after the 2006 release of the Lutheran Service Book. Since he led the committee charged with promoting the new hymnal, Magness wanted to see what was happening in the conservative denomination’s sanctuaries.

“What I found out is that we’re a lot like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates,” he said. “It says Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod on the sign, but when you go inside you have no idea what you’re going to get. … Some of our churches are playing with the structure of the liturgy and some are playing with the content and our whole synod is trying to find out how to draw some boundaries.”

One pastor wanted to offer five worship services in five musical formats to meet the needs of what he perceived as five separate audiences in his church.

The “TLH” service was for members still attached to the 1941 volume called “The Lutheran Hymnal.” Then there was the “Valpo” audience, which yearned for the “smells and bells” approach to high-church worship popular at Valparaiso University in Indiana. Then there were fans of the pop “CCM” music found in the “Contemporary Christian Music” industry. The “Gen X” crowd wanted its own post-baby boomer music.

The fifth service? It would feature country music.

These struggles are particularly poignant for Missouri Synod Lutherans, who are part of a 2.3 million-member denomination that occupies a tense niche between the larger, more liberal Evangelical Lutheran Church in America and the evangelical megachurch marketplace.

It’s crucial, said Magness, to understand that the churches linked to Martin Luther are part of the Protestant Reformation, but it’s hard to pin a simple “Protestant” label on their approach to piety. Missouri Synod Lutherans, for example, have much in common with evangelicals, especially in terms of biblical authority and conservative morality. However, some parish leaders are not sure they want to make radical changes to modernize their worship services.

Magness, for example, is one of about 30 Missouri Synod musicians known as “cantors,” an honorary title once held by Johann Sebastian Bach and many others in Lutheran history. Magness has created “Liturgy Solutions,” a company that helps churches of all sizes maintain Lutheran traditions, while mixing old and new music.

“We know that culture is not static,” he said. “We want to find the way to proclaim the church’s message in ways that remain reverent and appropriate, yet sound fresh today. Otherwise, we’d be singing chants in Latin every Sunday.”

The problem is that many pastors resort to forming separate congregations that worship under the same roof — variations on a “traditional” vs. “contemporary” split. What is “traditional” worship? That’s whatever older church leaders were doing before new leaders decided to change what Magness called the “soundtrack” for worship.

Sadly, these worship wars often drive off some faithful members, losses that negate whatever growth followed the changes that were adopted to attract newcomers.

Magness believes that church leaders should attempt to work with all their members to create services that are faithful to the past, but not stuck in the past. A common warning sign that trouble is ahead, he added, is when pastors begin altering the words of crucial prayers and liturgical texts — even the ancient creeds.

The bottom line, he said, is that dividing a church into separate, even competing, worship services rarely produces growth. At least, that isn’t what is happening in the Lutheran congregations he has studied.

“Maybe the saints prefer a place where the real practice of the church — preaching the Gospel in its truth and purity and administering the sacraments rightly and reverently — are much, much more important than whether Jack’s son gets to play his trap set in church or whether the patriarchal families get to pick all the hymns because they don’t want to sing any new songs,” said Magness, at a national worship conference.

“I do know this: the congregation that works out these issues the old-fashioned way provides a better confession of ‘one Lord, one faith and one baptism’ than the congregation that doesn’t share the Lord’s Supper together.”

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