THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO RALPH REED

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However, in 1983, shortly before he became the director of a national Republican student committee, Reed not only gave up alcohol and cigarettes but also found God. At about that time, he had seen a politician he admired -- a "pro-family, traditional values" type -- drinking and fooling around with someone he was not married to. The sight disgusted Reed and helped lead him toward being "born again." He apologized to one of his political victims, picked up a phone book, found an evangelical church and started attending. "Since 1983, I haven't been involved with anybody in politics for whom I bear a grudge in my heart,'' Reed told Time. "Which doesn't mean I don't want to win. It means a religious person in politics understands that he's working for goals more universal than taking the next election."

As Reed made his rounds among America's most important politicians last week, he looked for all the world like a junior executive, neatly attired in a crisp, dark suit and starched button-down shirt, dashing, luggage in hand, from taxicab to commercial aircraft. At times, he thumbed through his history book of the moment, Doris Kearns Goodwin's new biography of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt. But there was nothing mundane-or junior level-about his encounters. In addition to New Hampshire's Governor, he met with Senator Dan Coats to discuss the Foster nomination and a new bill on school prayer and choice. He then socialized with a collection of the Republican Party's movers and shakers in New Hampshire. Through it all he kept in constant touch with his headquarters in Virginia and his Washington office by way of a cellular phone.

At the state capitol in Concord, New Hampshire, the local press was all over him after his senate appearance. But he was not universally applauded. State senator Burt Cohen, a Democrat, left the chamber in a huff even before Reed spoke. "He [Reed] represents a dangerous trend in this country. We should keep religion and politics separate," Cohen said later. Another state senator, Jeanne Shaheen, a Democratic stalwart, heard Reed out. But she also was offended. She said, "Anytime you paint yourself as having the right answers because of a direct connection to God, that's very dangerous."

Theirs was a minority view in the heavily conservative and Republican senate. Reed was welcomed at a lunch at the estate of a conservative and politically active couple, Ortwin and Pat Krueger. Neither is a member of the Christian Coalition yet, but they love politics and professed to like the Coalition's approach. So with an eye toward helping the Coalition raise money, they happily played host to 10 current and potential contributors at their huge, old house, overlooking a pool, a tennis court and 56 rural hectares. George Fellendorf, a semiretired teacher of the deaf who is the state chapter's unpaid chairman, told Reed that after 18 months of organizing, it was time for the state association to get a full-time, paid executive director. "We're at a turning point," he said. Looking around at his affluent welcome, Reed could not help agreeing. That night he attended another, larger gathering of activists-this one involving 250 people-and expanded on his optimism. The Coalition had just registered its 1,600th county chapter, he said. "We're the McDonald's of American politics."