‘In The Name Of Jesus’: How War Rhetoric Is Splitting Christians In Alabama
OZARK, Alabama — While the national anthem played, retired U.S. Army colonel Bob Bunting, 88, stood with his eyes closed and his hand over his heart. The Vietnam War Veterans Memorial wreath ceremony — where a new monument was unveiled and a wreath was placed — began with an invocation and ended with a closing prayer. In between, the former soldiers were honored as speakers reflected on their service and sacrifice.
Ozark, a town of about 14,400 people, has been named the most patriotic city in Alabama by an insurance company, which compared the number of military residents — both active and retired — to the general population. Its economic engine is Fort Rucker, a military base that trains helicopter pilots. In town, there are about 50 churches, from Baptist and Methodist to Pentecostal and non-denominational.
On a Sunday, one might start the day at church, stop by a gun show selling shotguns, ammunition, holsters and survival gear — along with hand sanitizer labelled “liberal tears” and something called “lethal leggings” — and end it at a Vietnam veterans’ lunch hosted by a local Methodist congregation. Here, veterans speak of prayer as a constant companion in war, and religion and the military are tightly bound in everyday life.
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Religious language has also made its way into the Pentagon under Secretary of War Pete Hegseth. Before the peace talks, he repeatedly framed the conflict in Iran in spiritual terms, suggesting it carried a sense of divine purpose. During one worship service, Hegseth prayed that God would grant “overwhelming violence of action against those who deserve no mercy.”
In Birmingham, some Christians call the same language “blasphemy.” Across Alabama, Christianity shapes how people understand conflicts and the U.S. role in Iran — but not in the same way.
Bunting is not only a veteran who retired after 29 years and eight months of service. He is also a devout Christian.
“When I heard the Secretary of War say a prayer and use the name of Jesus, I was very proud,” said Bunting, a former mayor of Ozark.
In recent months, political leaders have increasingly invoked Christian language in public statements to justify military action and a more militarized culture. For example, President Donald Trump said God supports the United States, “because God is good, and God wants to see people taken care of.”
The statement was followed by an AI-generated image circulating online that depicted Trump as a Jesus-like figure, with soldiers and military planes in the background. The president later said it was meant to portray him as “a doctor.”
Hegseth also asked Americans to pray for victory in Iran “in the name of Jesus Christ.” He has expressed admiration for the medieval Crusades, which pitted Christians against Muslims. Additionally, he has tattooed on his bicep the Latin phrase “Deus vult,” meaning “God wills it” — a slogan also seen on the cover of his Bible.
Christian rhetoric has also appeared in Pentagon promotional materials in social media, including videos that pair Bible verses with war-game footage. Hegseth determined that U.S. military chaplains would no longer wear rank insignia, but only religious symbols, arguing they are “first and foremost called and ordained by God.” Additionally, the Pentagon has reduced the number of recognized religious affiliation codes in the military from more than 200 to 31.
Rev. Julie Conrady, president of the Interfaith Alliance of Central Alabama, said the changes raise serious concerns about religious freedom within the military.
“If the government starts deciding which religions are acceptable, that’s a dangerous path,” Conrady said. “It suggests a move toward a kind of theocracy. Ironically, it mirrors what we criticize in countries like Iran and shows a level of hypocrisy.”
She also poined to the broader religious dimension of the conflict, comparing the killing of Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, to the killing of a major religious figure. Khamenei, who held both political and clerical authority in Iran, was killed in a U.S.-Israeli airstrike in February.
“That’s like killing the pope. It’s a huge spiritual and emotional attack,” Conrady said.
Frank Estes, a veteran of both the Vietnam and Korea wars, attended the Vietnam veterans' ceremony and a lunch hosted by First United Methodist Church of Ozark. He thinks the Iran operation was handled well.
“If you understand Iran, you know they had no real allies and had been hostile toward Americans for decades. They were moving toward nuclear capability,” he said.
Bunting also supports the attack, citing the sheer destructive power of nuclear weapons — but he’s less convinced it was executed well.
“I do not think it was well planned out,” Bunting said. "One of the things we studied in the War College was the Gulf of Hormuz and how it would become a problem down the line. That was 50 years ago. How could the planners have ignored that?”
Estes, for his part, argued that earlier administrations had pulled the military's focus away from combat readiness — too caught up, in his view, in “social issues.”
“Hegseth is trying to bring it back to standards, discipline and trust,” he said.
For Mike Ziots, a Vietnam veteran and member of Prince of Peace Lutheran Church, forming a clear opinion hasn't been easy. Too much about the intelligence behind the war remains unknown. Even so, he stands behind Hegseth.
“I've been watching him for years. He really is a Christian, a strong one,” Ziots said.
At a recent No Kings protest in Birmingham, the signs were familiar: “No War,” “Send ICE to Iran” and “Protect Free Speech.” But something has set these gatherings apart from those in larger cities like New York or Los Angeles: religious imagery. Clergy addressed crowds from the stage, while the Super Bowl quote by Bad Bunny – “Only thing stronger than hate is love” — appeared alongside images of Jesus and Bible verses on signs throughout the crowd.
Darrel Holcombe, who owns a Christian bookstore in Birmingham, called the use of Bible verses to justify war “blasphemy.”
“You cannot celebrate war and be a disciple of Jesus. Jesus’ teachings were about peace and peacemakers, not warriors,” he said.
In Birmingham, many drew parallels to Alabama’s past, including the civil rights era and slavery — both periods when some Christians used scripture to justify injustice. Several said they did not want to look back years from now and explain to their grandchildren that they did nothing as the United States went to war in Iran and blurred the line between religion and government.
Jonathan Davis, a teacher, said people have misplaced their religious faith and replaced it with faith in political leaders.
“In Alabama especially, over the last 150 years, people have used Christianity to justify things that look reprehensible in retrospect. I think that’s happening now,” Davis said.
For him, the shift has weakened his own faith.
“It’s made me realize how malleable and distortable Christianity is,” he said.
Rev. Dr. Kevin Higgs, who has taught peace studies at the University of Alabama at Birmingham, said the United States has been taken over by religious fundamentalism and nationalism tied to political power, where being Christian is increasingly framed as being aligned with the Republican Party.
“People on the religious nationalist right cherry-pick verses and construct a theology that supports their agenda. They focus heavily on apocalyptic texts and the Second Coming, even though those are not central themes in the New Testament. They merge that with modern Christian Zionism and create a narrative that encourages war and violence. They frame it as necessary for prophecy or divine purpose,” Higgs said.
Back in Ozark, the tone is different. Many veterans described how faith can take on a different weight in combat, when life is constantly at risk.
For Ziots, the presence of Christianity in the military talk is not troubling, but reassuring. He described it was a stabilizing force for him.
“I think it is absolutely a good force in the military,” he said. “I liked it when I knew the people making decisions were Christians.”
Frank Estes said faith became a more immediate part of daily life during his time in Vietnam. “You did a lot of praying. In gunships, you were a little closer to God than a lot of other folks, because you were always in a pretty critical position,” he said.
For Bunting, the idea was straightforward.
“The sooner a soldier gets shot at, the sooner he gets religion,” he said.
Laura Pylvänäinen is a jouralist who has extensive experience reporting on global politics and human rights. She us currently getting her master’s at USC Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism in Los Angeles.