Beyond Moralism in Uniform: Why Chaplains Must First Be Theologians

I live in a strange environment. I’m a pastor but am called to a specific ministry context as an active-duty military chaplain. On Sundays, I serve at a chapel. During the week, I serve the Brigade where I’m assigned. Now, to be clear, chapels are not churches. There is no membership, no church discipline, and rarely a strong sense of community. Yet they fill a need for people away from their home church, exploring Christianity, or who haven’t found a local church.

As a Major, I serve as “senior pastor” of one of the chapel services. Specifically, I serve the “Traditional Service.” Let me explain. In simple terms, a “traditional service” means using hymnals, which usually blends Presbyterian, some Baptist, Lutheran, and Methodist traditions. Unfortunately, in a desire for ecumenical peace, theological distinctives can blur and often disappear completely.

I sat in chapel recently listening to a sermon that was genuinely well-meant, warm, and entirely empty. The preacher took a verse, set it aside, and spent twenty minutes offering practical tips on managing stress and keeping a positive attitude.

Looking around the room, I couldn’t help but think about what the people sitting beside me were actually carrying. Military life brings burdens and crises like shattered marriages, the heavy ache of grief, quiet battles with guilt, and a deep, silent weariness.

They hadn’t come to chapel for life coaching. They had come because they were bleeding, and they needed a physician.

Modern ministry has a subtle, constant temptation to trade deep biblical truth for practical advice. We want to be relatable and useful, so we turn our sermons and counseling sessions into self-help seminars. But when we leave the deep truths of Scripture behind, we end up doing terrible damage to the people we are called to love.

Jeremiah spoke directly to this danger: “They have healed the wound of my people lightly, saying, ‘Peace, peace,’ when there is no peace” (Jer. 6:14).

Light sermons heal deep wounds lightly. When we stand before suffering people and give them five steps to a happier life, we aren’t offering good news. We’re just giving them more work to do. We tell wounded, exhausted souls to pull themselves together and try harder. In doing so, we become like Job’s friends, those men Job rightly called “worthless physicians” (Job 13:4) who offered neat, shallow answers to an agonizingly deep sorrow.

A conscience burdened by real guilt cannot be soothed by positive thinking. It needs the cross of Jesus Christ, where guilt was atoned for and forgiven. A family shattered by sudden tragedy doesn’t need cheerful platitudes. They need the anchor of God’s sovereign care, the comfort of His presence, and the freedom to lament before a Father who hears them.

This is why a chaplain must be a theologian. God has called us to a place where many civilian pastors cannot easily go. We go into a subculture that is somewhat foreign, marked by acute crisis, and the brutal reality of violence.

Paul told Titus that a shepherd “must hold firm to the trustworthy word as taught, so that he may be able to give instruction in sound doctrine” (Titus 1:9). Theology is not a dry hobby for academics in ivory towers. In everyday life, sound doctrine is the only medicine strong enough to bring real healing. It tells us who God is when the floor drops out from under our feet.

The soldiers and families sitting in chapel pews do not need clever advice or lighter doctrine. They need shepherds who love them enough to open the Scriptures, refuse shallow comfort, and point their weary hearts to the finished work of Christ. This is why the military chaplain must be a theologian.

James Brown is husband to Neely since 2002 and father to Mara Naomi, Hannah Rae, and Evangeline Hope. Ordained in the ARP, he serves as an Active Duty Chaplain in the US Army.