There is a wide spectrum of religions and Christian denominations represented in the military chaplaincy. In this pluralistic environment, there is always a residual pressure to paper over differences between these different groups and turn pluralism from sociological fact into cherished philosophical principle. With that in mind, the goal of the evangelical (Bible-believing, Gospel-preaching) chaplain is to draw lines in the right places at the right times. Hence, my use of the term "evangelical" to describe myself, rather than the more precise "Reformed" or even "Confessional Presbyterian."
I learned this lesson in my CHBOLC (Chaplain Basic Officer Leadership Course) when I first entered the chaplaincy. Each day, the chaplain class would open and close the day with a class prayer. At first, whoever they appointed to lead class prayers would be free to pray according to their faith tradition. Over time, the cadre (teachers), who were mostly from the Mainline, put pressure on the class to strip any use of Jesus' name from prayers. They thought we'd implement their plan if it was put up to a vote by the class. We rejected their plan by an overwhelming majority, with the support of the rabbis, the Buddhist chaplain, etc.
The rationale of most of the new chaplains, regardless of religion, in opposing the plan was simple: We were consistently taught to value our diversity, and in order to do so, we wanted that diversity to remain unvarnished. We wanted the lines to be clear and individual beliefs to be unambiguous. At least in that way, we would be able to engage each other as real people with substantive differences rather than as political agents with paper mache personalities.
Immediately after that vote, I learned the painful reality that the military is not a democracy, but a dictatorship. When they didn't get the vote they liked, the cadre immediately stepped in a declared from on high that praying in Jesus' name would not be tolerated. I naively tried to raise up grassroots opposition to that measure. I wrote out a memo that I distributed to allies in the class, arguing that this new plan would turn all Christian prayers into universalist, pagan prayers. If we can all close our eyes to the same prayer and say "Amen" at the end, it is not a Christian prayer.
In cobbling together a coalition of supporters, I went developed rings of engagement. I first went to my fellow Confessionally-Reformed chaplains, followed by Reformed Baptists and Confessional Lutherans, and finally, Arminians and evangelicals of other stripes. On this issue, I even got the support of many of the minority-faith chaplains.
Ultimately, I got squashed like a bug in that conflict. The class leader told me that "if I didn't like the plan, I should get out of the military" and I was referred to higher commanders to talk some sense into me, with the implication that unless I got myself right quickly, I would be out. I backed down and decided to save my ammunition for another day. Yet I learned several lessons that day:
1) The first question I should ask a fellow chaplain who will be working with me is "Do you believe that Jesus Christ is who He says He is and that He is your Savior from sin?" If he says "Yes," I rejoice and we begin planning our evangelical approach to engaging our soldiers. I will, of course, bring Reformed beliefs to all I say and do. If he says "No," I will befriend him and make sure he has the resources he needs to be fulfill his role, but will know that we are pursuing different goals and aims (Shorter Catechism #1).
2) Fellow evangelicals, regardless of denomination, are my allies, not my opponents. The first chaplain I worked with since arriving here is United Methodist, but is evangelical. We had wonderful discussions and will keep up with one another on our respective deployments. The chaplain I currently work with is a Baptist, and though I know we already disagree on some significant issues (i.e., women ordination), he is a fellow Christian and an ally. Like me, he is a young Captain with a wife and firstborn baby at home but heeded the call to serve his country, love his soldiers, proclaim the Gospel and glorify God, and pray for the family he loves at home. Except that he is black and from Alabama, our stories are remarkably similar.
3) As I draw these lines, I do not forget for a second that Reformed Christianity is biblical Christianity. I do not compromise my beliefs or mince words. My sermons are Christ-centered, as Christ and His apostles declared they should be (i.e., Luke 24 and Acts 20). I see the Scriptures as fundamentally covenantal and closely follow the lines of redemptive-history in my preaching. I take the depravity of man and utter sovereignty of God seriously in my counseling. I even maintain a Reformed ecclesiology in practices like using a liturgy in worship and fencing the Lord's table (though a consistent ecclesiology isn't possible in the military context).
As I do not make any attempt to blur the lines between different religions and denominations, I enjoy a remarkable evangelical unity, while maintaining an unvarnished Reformed witness to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. In this way, I fight the pragmatism of our day (which reduces truth to its practical effects) and the linguistic relativism that allows people to define concepts like "faith" in diametrically-opposed ways and still claim agreement. I feel that in my own humble, sin-stained way, I am following in the footsteps of my homeboy, Machen, who would stand side-to-side with the fundamentalists against liberal "Christians" (who is claiming Christianity, but denying its claims, are the worst enemies of the cross), but would confess and proclaim an unvarnished biblical (Reformed) Christianity. Soli Deo gloria!
