PITTSBURGH INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT AIR RESERVE STATION, PENNSYLVANIA, UNITED STATES --
“If we can change that suffering, if we can change that tragedy, it can be a powerful tool to help us grow and help other people with it,” says Capt. Jonathan M. Lee, 911th Airlift Wing chaplain, reflecting on a transformative event that led him to join the Air Force in 2020.
Although joining the Air Force five years ago, Lee’s journey to the chaplain corps began long before—shaped by hardship, trauma, and ultimately, a renewed sense of hope. Raised in a rough neighborhood of Los Angeles, Lee experienced sexual abuse at the hands of a pastor when he was just five years old—an event that deeply impacted his early view of faith and religion. Soon after his family moved to Seoul, South Korea.
Life in Seoul came with its own challenges. Lee recalled witnessing street fights between rival gangs armed with bats, knives and two-by-fours. The constant exposure to violence left a lasting impression.
“This was all before I became a Christian, but I just felt angry all the time,” Lee said. “I would get into a lot of fights and all kinds of trouble throughout my life. It got so bad that, when it was time for college, only one place accepted me—Liberty University, a Christian school.”
Lee recounts begrudgingly applying for only a few schools with the help of his mother who selected Christian institutions hoping for a positive change in her son— who had little desire in pursuing education let alone a religious path. But all that changed during his freshman year of college when a drunk driver hit him.
“I thought I was on a date with this girl during my freshman year– she actually tricked me into going to a prayer meeting on the top of Star Mountain in Roanoke,” said Lee.
Lee was in the passenger seat without a seatbelt and recalled his classmate coming to a stop before initiating a left hand turn into a four-way intersection. That's when he saw a silver mustang speeding toward his side of the car.
“It must have been going 50 or 60 miles per hour,” said Lee. “It was one of those moments where I knew I was going to get hit. It felt like slow motion. I remember turning to her and telling her to brace herself. The moment I said that was when we got hit on my side. When I came to, my friend was screaming but I could hear nothing but ringing.”
After checking on his friend and then himself, Lee saw that the entire passenger side of the car had been crumpled in and there was a hole in the windshield that matched a large swelling on his head. Through the window, Lee could see the occupants of the mustang abandoning their vehicle–fleeing the scene on foot. Feeling the anger of his youth bubbling up again, Lee attempted to break free from the wreckage and give chase but quickly after escaping the wreckage passed out from his wounds.
Lee said, “When I opened up my eyes again, I’m getting loaded into an ambulance and they were strapping me up and everything. Through the ringing I could hear voices and one paramedic was saying I had severe bleeding inside my head and that I was about to die. For the first time in my life I felt like I wasn't in control of that moment and that I was going to die in such a stupid, stupid way. That’s when I heard a voice asking me, ‘Is this how you want to go?’ At that moment I just knew it was God.”
Many who have had near-death experiences say their life flashed before their eyes. For Lee, it was memories of his rough childhood and the hard life that followed. He spent the next three hours in a hospital bed making peace with God. But when the doctor made his way to Lee, after performing a quick 20 minute checkup, he was told that he was released and free to go. No additional CT scans, no MRIs, even the lump on his head was gone.
“I was given a second chance at life in a miraculous way, and that's what shifted my focus,” said Lee.
He continued his studies in psychology while participating in college ministries and mission trips, helping children in China, Thailand, Cambodia and Japan. His own experiences with childhood abuse and violence, paired with his education and mission trips, sparked a passion for nurturing and helping children. This initially made Lee interested in the Peace Corps to counsel and rehabilitate children who had been recruited by the Ugandan warlord, Joseph Koney.
“I figured I could get there, learn the language and counsel the kids that were saved from that kind of environment, but that door closed at the last minute and God opened up the door for me to work for the government in child services.”
In 2012, Lee began working as a manager at an Army child development center located on Fort Belvoir, Virginia. He noticed that parents felt comfortable talking to him, often seeking his counsel, though it fell beyond the realm of his position.
“Oftentimes they would just talk about their work lives and family lives and just open up to me,” said Lee. “Once I got to know them better and shared my own testimony, that’s when they encouraged me to become a chaplain.”
Inspired by these conversations, Lee pursued a Master of Divinity at Regent University in Virginia Beach, Virginia, starting in 2015.
During this time, he joined a motorcycle club to get to know other people in the community. There, he met a group of friends who enjoyed riding together. As the group’s mileage climbed and odometers ticked forward, so too did their friendship—maturing mile by mile.
Riding a motorcycle teaches a person to become attuned to the machine—not through instruction, but through presence. Over time, the steady hum of the engine becomes a conversation. A sudden rattle in the bars, a hiccup in throttle response, the subtle shift of suspension over a winding road—each is a whisper from the bike, a cue that something needs attention, a need that’s felt before it’s fully understood.
The same applies to people. The longer people spend together, the more they notice unspoken cues—a glance held too long, a change in tone, or laughter that fades too quickly. With time and experience, needs can be sensed before they are voiced.
One night out, he noticed a friend and a fellow rider acting differently.
“He would usually sing his heart out, and that one day he was just very mellow. He wasn't himself,” said Lee.
Recognizing this, Lee suggested they hang out the following week. The friend agreed, but a few days later, Lee received a call that his friend had died by suicide.
“That was earth-shattering to me,” explained Lee. “I did a lot of soul searching. I blamed myself a lot, and that really made me look deep in my heart. I have all of these gifts and talents that I was given. Am I using them correctly? Am I doing it to the max where I can truly make a difference in people's lives?”
From his time working on Fort Belvoir, he was familiar with the Chaplain Corps and decided to apply as a chaplain with the Navy.
“But the Navy lost my application twice. So the Air Force picked it up,” said Lee. “It just kind of worked out like that.”
After completing Officer Training School in 2020, he was stationed at Eglin Air Force Base, Florida, where he immediately began helping Airmen dealing with the emotional strains brought on by COVID-19 and the uncertainty which came along with it.
With many members in quarantine and limited services on and off base, Lee said Airmen often felt isolated or cut off, sometimes leading to increased alcohol use. This led to an increase in suicidal thoughts, which he noticed during counseling sessions.
According to the World Health Organization, in the first year of the COVID-19 pandemic, the global prevalence of anxiety and depression increased by 25%. Additionally the Department of Defense Annual Report on Military Suicide (Calendar Year 2021) states that military suicides increased during the initial years of the pandemic. Between 2019 and 2021, at least 1,606 service members from across the DoD died by suicide—figures that rose notably during the pandemic. Isolation, uncertainty, and operational stress created an environment where emotional resilience was tested daily, and the need for chaplains and counselors became more critical than ever.
“You just feel like you're stuck in a rotational wave that's constantly hitting you,” said Lee, depicting suicidal thoughts. “And because that member is just stuck at a point where the wave is just beating on them, they start to think the only way that they can get out is maybe taking their life.”
When someone came to him with suicidal ideations, Lee did not hesitate to establish a connection.
“My immediate reaction would be, ‘Hey, grab your jacket ... Let’s grab a coffee, or lunch,’’’ said Lee. “Oftentimes, just sharing a meal or sharing coffee, it can warm the heart a little bit.”
Those casual conversations often led to deeper discussions and ongoing support. Lee continued to check in with Airmen even as they moved forward in their careers.
“I just didn't want what happened with my friend to repeat. So I just wanted to make sure that who ever reached out with suicidal ideations, that I did my very best to be with them,” said Lee. “I didn't get every single one of them, and there were quite a few suicides.”
Even in those difficult moments, Lee found value in bringing units together.
“I’d see different leaders and different Airmen all come together, and we're able to have this beautiful ceremony, a memorial for this individual,” said Lee. “Just seeing the strength and the courage of everyone in that unit, it emboldens me, it encourages me.”
The emotional demands of Chaplain Lee’s role at Eglin Air Force Base were substantial. Beyond balancing administrative duties and leading religious services, he also provided 682 hours of counseling to 344 service members during the COVID-19 pandemic, offering support to those facing unprecedented challenges.
Recognizing the importance of maintaining his own well-being, Lee engaged in activities that allowed him to decompress and reconnect with himself. Whether riding his motorcycle, working out, reading the Bible, or caring for bonsai trees—a hobby that earned him the nickname "Mr. Miyagi" among those he counseled—he found ways to manage stress and remain a steady presence for those he served.
Chaplain Jonathan M. Lee's unwavering commitment to his fellow service members exemplifies the profound impact one individual can have on the lives of many. His dedication to providing compassionate care and fostering resilience during one of the most challenging periods in recent history underscores the vital role of chaplains in the military community.
Now serving as a chaplain with the 911th Airlift Wing at Pittsburgh International Airport Air Reserve Station, Lee provides confidential counseling and spiritual support to hundreds of Airmen and their families. He leads religious services, facilitates resiliency training, and supports commanders by promoting the morale and welfare of the force. Whether responding to personal crises, advising leadership, or simply lending an ear during a difficult moment, Lee remains committed to his mission: being present, compassionate, and ready to help others turn their own tragedies into growth.
If someone is struggling with mental health or having suicidal thoughts, they can contact a chaplain for a 100% confidential conversation or call the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988. This service is available 24/7 and provides free, confidential support for individuals in distress.