It may not sound very powerful, but gay rights activist Debra Peevey said that a two-inch green button played a major role in convincing voters to legalize gay marriage this month in her home state of Washington.

"Another Person of Faith Approves R. 74," said the button, which refers to the ballot initiative that wound up legalizing gay marriage in Washington.

As faith director for the statewide pro-gay marriage campaign, Washington United for Marriage, Peevey and her team distributed 5,000 of the buttons. They were conversation starters, she said, ways of letting people know they could relate to one another on the intimate level of religion. And that being religious didn't meant you had to oppose gay marriage.

"We had people clamoring for the buttons," Peevey said. "People of faith all over the state wore them. It amplified that perspective that people of faith do, in fact, support marriage equality."

This year, voters in Washington State were joined by those in Maryland, Maine and Minnesota in handing big victories to the gay rights movement. In the first three states, voters legalized gay marriage. In Minnesota, they rejected a measure that would have banned same-sex marriage.

After watching dozens of states adopt gay marriage bans in recent years, gay rights activists hope this month's victories mark a national turning point. And to help push other states to follow suit, they are holding up efforts like Peevey's as a blueprint for how to successfully incorporate faith into future gay rights campaigns.

Some same-sex marriage proponents think their fight may move to Colorado, Illinois, New Jersey, Rhode Island, Oregon or some combination of those states. Wherever the effort goes, gay rights activists say, faith will be a part of the mix.

"Faith became part of the solution and not just the problem in all four states" where gay marriage was on the ballot this year, said Sharon Groves, director of the religion and faith program at the Human Rights Campaign, a gay rights group. "We will never do a campaign moving forward where engaging people of faith will not be central part of that work."

'Be who you are, not something you are not'

For Grant Stevensen, a Lutheran pastor in St. Paul, Minnesota, and the faith director for the campaign opposing a gay marriage ban in the state, engaging faith communities depended on framing the debate the right way.

In past gay rights ballot fights, Stevensen said, the same-sex marriage movement put "a big emphasis on civil rights language and connection to the civil rights movement." But the messaging didn't work, he said, with many people rejecting the idea of a link between civil rights for minorities and marriage rights for gays.

Instead, Stevensen and his team used words like "love," "marriage" and "commitment," in their messaging about opposing a gay marriage ban, words that he said strike at the heart of Christian beliefs about marriage. "Our goal for the whole campaign was to emphasize those themes and talk specifically about gay people," he said, "as opposed to making this another civil rights movement."

Similar campaigns in other states took different approaches.

For instance in Maryland, gay rights activists emphasized outreach to African-American churches and played up civil rights arguments.

In Maine and Washington State, enormous effort went into mobilizing lay Catholics, even if their hierarchy actively opposed the gay marriage campaigns. Stevensen's Minnesota campaign, meanwhile, targeted the state's many Lutherans.

"Be who you are, not something you are not," the pastor said, encouraging other gay rights activists to combat the stereotype that all Christians "are opposed to gay people."

The right conversation

In past ballot fights, which resulted in gay marriage bans in more than 30 states, forces opposed to same-sex marriage had dominated the faith conversation.

A faithful same-sex marriage supporter was seen as an outlier.

When Ross Murray, director of religion, faith and values at the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD), was asked by his bosses to be one of the lead liaisons between the four state-based gay campaigns and the national gay rights organization, he knew more emphasis than ever was going to be put on religion.

Murray advised the campaigns to ask "people to vote the value that they have been taught" and "make sure that you can reach within all religious groups and get those who have passion and have them reach their friends, neighbors and co-congregants."

That's what Stevens tried to do in Minnesota: "We were going to either own this conversation about faith and if we can't own it, no one is going to own it."

Stevensen and his eight-person faith staff trained 2,500 "conversationalists," religious people who were taught how to have conversations about gay marriage with other people of faith. They were instructed to discuss same-sex marriage in terms of their religious beliefs. The campaign offered similar training sessions to more than 500 clergy.

The two-hour-long training sessions also focused on people telling their own faith stories. If someone had once been opposed to same-sex marriage because of their religious beliefs, they were encouraged to talk about that, too.

More than anything, said Stevensen, the conversationalists were encouraged to listen.