If you caught any media at all during a several-day period in January, you couldn't help hearing about a Vastly Significant Historical Event taking place in Washington, D.C.: Nancy Pelosi had become The First Female Speaker of the House Ever.

You heard about the Vast Significance, in part, because Pelosi spent a lot of time crowing about it. She had moved "from the kitchen to the Congress," she declared, and now her rise to the top represented "a historic moment for the women of America." Just how historic? Well, "For our daughters and granddaughters, today we have broken the marble ceiling."

The media, naturally, couldn't stop gushing. "Nancy Pelosi Two Heartbeats from the Presidency," ran a typical headline at ABC.com. It really went over big when she brought her grandchildren forward during her swearing-in, "It seemed the ultimate in multitasking," gushed ABC's Charles Gibson on the air — "taking care of children and the country." It marked the start of grand new era, to be greeted with hugs and kisses across the Capitol. I don't mean that last part sarcastically. Network news stories actually focused on how much more smooching and embracing there was in the House, by contrast with the staid hand-shaking that went on when stodgy, emotionally repressed guys were in power.

It really is all a bit much to take — especially on the heels of the hype over Sen. Barack Obama, the charismatic black (well, biracial) senator from Illinois. Obama, you may have heard, may be our next president, and if so, that too would be historic — and just plain wonderful. As Jonathan Alter of Newsweek puts it, "The record of white males in high places has not exactly been stellar of late, and voters might be in the mood to try something historic, and possibly redemptive."

Gracious me; redemptive, no less. Well, no doubt that's how some people would see it: America must atone for its record of racism and sexism, and that means placing members of the victim groups into the top political offices.

But before we all get carried away, we ought to consider a couple of points that are getting lost in all the hoopla.

The first point is so obvious I'm kinda embarrassed to mention it, lest I seem to imply that none of you have thought of it already. (Rest assured, I know better.) But let's just say it: What matters first and foremost about a candidate isn't gender or race, it's where the candidate stands on the issues.

As it happens, both Pelosi and Obama fall decisively on a side many of us (Christians, for example) can't join: They're solidly for abortion on demand, homosexual "civil unions" and the like. Obama, in his book The Audacity of Hope, even says he's "open to the possibility" of one day supporting same-sex marriage by name. And though he identifies himself as a Christian, he doesn't want to be troubled by Scriptural standards: In the book, he says he's "not willing to accept a reading of the Bible" that gives weight to "an obscure line in Romans" — a reference to Romans 1:26-27 as "unnatural" and "perversion." (For anyone who's interested in more detail, I've got a review of Obama's book coming out in a future issue of Citizen magazine.)

Just what's wrong with those positions is a point that's been argued many times in many places, Boundless included, and by many people, me included. So I won't repeat the arguments here. The immediate point is simply that these are the things that really matter — not race or sex, not symbolic breakthroughs through the "marble ceiling" for members of particular groups, not whether a candidate has a bunch of cute grandchildren to trot before the cameras.

The second point we ought to consider, however, may not be so obvious — if only because we've all been conditioned to consider politics so darn important. And it's this: There's something rather warped about seeing the attainment of governmental power as the epitome of human achievement.

There's no question that government is important: It has some necessary functions. Still, we'd do well to remember the centuries-old words of essayist Samuel Johnson: "How small, of all that human hearts endure, that part which laws or kings can cause or cure." These days, alas, governments can cause a lot more of "what human hearts endure" than they used to, as technology has made control and destruction so much easier. (The 20th century, especially, was all too full of examples of such evils.) But they can still cure precious little, and often make things worse when they profess to try.

The reason, simply, is that God made us to live our lives mainly on a small scale. We spend most of our time relating to our families, our friends and neighbors, our co-workers, our churchmates. And that's where our achievements lie — if we regard them as "achievements" at all. (A better attitude would be reflected by words like service, and a still better attitude if we remember that service is something to regard with joy.)

Regrettably, some people have their priorities messed up. Nancy Pelosi may think "from the kitchen to the Congress" is a big promotion, but in truth, what she did in the kitchen was probably more valuable than what anyone (not just her) does in Congress. And that's not because women should be confined to the kitchen, but simply because it was one of many valuable things people do close to home, with their families, where real life takes place.

This isn't to dismiss the role of government, but to put it in its proper place. When the apostle Paul urges prayer for "kings and all those in authority," he does so "that we may lead peaceful and quiet lives in all Godliness and holiness" (1 Timothy 2:2). Government is supposed to maintain basic civil order so we can do the things that count. In a real sense, it's not supposed to be above us so much as below us: It's supposed to be more servant than master.

That isn't how things work much of the time, as we all know. Power goes to people's heads, both corrupting its holders and attracting those already corrupt to seek it. Any good and wise folk who hold public office may find they need to spend more time stopping things than starting them — not so much finding things for government to do, but blocking it from getting ambitious and going too far: Redefining marriage, raising kids in day-care centers, or just plain taxing us to the point where we have little choice but to depend on government programs, to name just a few examples. (There are so many others to choose from.)

But that's a topic for another day. The main thing we need to do is, as I say, to get our priorities straight. And if we're talking about what matters most, striding through the hallways of power doesn't rank very high. The list of things that go ahead of it is long and familiar. Worshipping with fellow believers. Reading stories to children. Talking about the day's events with a spouse. Laughing — or crying — with friends in a living room, or a diner. Walking through your neighborhood.

None of these activities, I can't help noticing, are impeded by the "marble ceiling" Nancy Pelosi considers so important. They all take place under real ceilings, in homes and churches and restaurants, or just under the skies above. They're just normal, everyday, real.

Maybe one of the biggest problems with our politics is that most politicians don't truly understand, or care enough about, the lives of normal people. Not that we should want them terribly involved in those lives, much less "taking care of children and the country." We should mainly want them to respect and honor relationships (like marriage) and institutions (like families and churches) the way God made them to be.

Alas, the Pelosis and Obamas of the world leave a lot to be desired in that area. And it's doubtful we can straighten out their priorities. But we can do our part to make sure their priorities don't become ours. And that means making sure we cherish the blessings, and do the duties, which God has placed right in front of us.

Paid for by Focus on the Family Action.