The distance from my church to my office at the Pentagon was just over five miles. But for most of my time in government, it might as well have been 5,000.

On Sunday mornings, I prayed for peace. “Jesus was a homeless refugee from the Middle East,” my minister reminded us once before announcing our Advent offering. I contributed to the collection basket and asked God to help the Syrians fleeing from their homes in the land of the Bible.

And when services were done, I went back to planning for war. As deputy assistant secretary of defense for Middle East policy, my responsibilities included evaluating troop deployments and missile strikes in the very places where biblical scripture is set.

My office, on the fifth floor of the Pentagon, was what’s known in intelligence community parlance as a SCIF — a sensitive compartmented information facility, cleared for the handling and discussion of the U.S. government’s most closely guarded secrets. Before passing through two locked doors, I had to check all electronics that could be used as recording devices, including my iPhone and BlackBerry. I checked my religion, too.