When Jennifer Lea opens her mind’s eye to her earliest memories, she finds herself on the rust-red soil of the Central African Republic, a deep-red sun fixed overhead like an all-seeing gaze, sprinting after a soccer ball as a horde of her brother’s friends races behind her.
She isn’t African. Lea was born in South Korea and adopted by American parents five months later, her path to the continent shaped by her parents’ missionary work rather than birth. But her love of the country is etched in her heart and her memories, and she assumed she’d someday return.
“When I was 16, I went back for a month when my dad returned to the seminary,” she says, her thoughts shifting to a later chapter. “I loved it. I thought I’d end up back in Africa teaching at some point.”
She pauses, then adds, “But that hasn’t happened yet.”
For Lea – a litigator in Chattanooga – those early memories are not just images but a way of understanding her life. To her, it’s always been a journey guided by an unseen but present hand. When she closes her mind’s eye, she can open the daily journals she’s kept since she was 7 years old and trace her path forward, step by step, through the unbroken testimony of her own ink.
“What fascinates me is seeing the patterns in my life,” she says. “I love Jesus, and it’s powerful to look back and see Him at work – to notice the things He keeps narrowing in on. Maybe I caught a small piece of that story when I was 7 or 8 years old, struggling with it and writing about it. Then suddenly I’m 42 and I think, ‘There it is again.’ I love recognizing those patterns and seeing how God has been at work all along.”
Woven into those patterns is Lea’s professional journey – from an early desire to teach, through a series of surprising turns, to her present work as an attorney at Chambliss Law.
An open world
Some people are born into a community and never leave it, having found their place in the world among familiar faces and streets. By contrast, Lea has lived her life as though the world itself were her neighborhood – the streets that lead to the supermarket and church, the places where friends live just around the corner. This is the world her adoptive parents brought her into – a world with borders, but one she learned early to move through with ease.
“My parents loved to travel and experience different cultures,” she says, drawing her thoughts back from being “suddenly 42” to a more tender age.
“We lived in the south of France, where my dad taught Greek at a seminary. I grew up getting in the car for long weekends and exploring new countries – Spain or wherever we could drive. They’d read to us about where we were going and, when we visited cathedrals, mom would point to paintings and sculptures and explain the history behind them – how they were built and what they meant.”
Lea’s parents were both teachers and, by her telling, excelled at their work. She describes her mother as a hands-on instructor and smiles as she recalls her demonstrating how to dissect an eyeball – without specifying what kind. Growing up, Lea absorbed their passions, including not only a love of teaching but an aptitude for it, as well.
“I wanted to be in front of a class,” she says. “In sixth grade, my teacher took us to a museum to look at rocks and then write a short story about them and present it to the class. I wrote a story about a family who lived in a rock formation that was actually a planet. Afterward, my teacher said, ‘Vive le bac plus cinq,’ which essentially meant, ‘You should teach.’”
Lea delivers the snippet of French with the nuance and ease of a native speaker, a small reflection of how her travels and many homes did more than introduce her to new people and places - they became part of her, shaping who she is.
And always there was the unseen hand of another, she says, guiding her toward a different destination.
A new direction
Lea grew up in France, her formal education shaped by a steady stream of literature, philosophy and languages, including French, Spanish, English and Greek. After graduating with her baccalaureate – which she pronounces like it’s a slice of French poetry – her parents encouraged her to attend college in the United States. She chose Covenant College, a liberal arts school perched atop a mountain overlooking Chattanooga.
While pursuing an undergraduate degree in psychology – the teaching program was full – Lea completed an internship with the organization now known as La Paz Chattanooga. Through that work, she spent time with Hispanic teens who affectionately called her “La China” (pronounced chee-nah), having mistaken her for Chinese. A seed was planted when she met a young girl who dreamed of becoming an attorney.
“I realized I had access to education and resources that she didn’t,” Lea explains.
From the mountains of Tennessee and Georgia, Lea returned to France, settling on the Left Bank of Paris – a historic district known for its art, culture and proximity to landmarks like the Eiffel Tower and the Seine. There, she explored her growing desire to work with women and children in the nonprofit sector.
“Studying nonprofits – how to run them, how to operate them internationally – made sense to me,” she says. “Nonprofits are full of good-hearted people and great programs, but they often lack access to expensive resources like business management and legal services. Those are critical skill sets they need but often don’t have.”
As Lea explored what she might bring to that world, she took a handful of courses in international law and human rights. Discovering she loved the material, she began to consider law school.
But even as Lea set those plans in motion, she says the hand at her back was nudging her toward a very different path.
Forged in service
After earning her master’s degree, the girl who once wanted to teach arrived at William & Mary Law School in Virginia, her sense of direction newly transformed. What came next was even more unexpected.
As Lea sits in a conference room at Chambliss, she’s wearing a navy suit defined by tailored precision. The double-breasted blazer is finished with gold buttons arranged in measured symmetry. The effect is restrained and orderly rather than ornamental – a composed professional presence that suggests focus and control.
The suit isn’t military issue, but it could pass for it. Lea, a former JAG officer, allows that it might be a remnant of an earlier chapter of her life.
“Maybe wearing the same uniform every day shaped my tastes,” she laughs.
Out of law school, Lea interviewed with the United States Air Force. She left convinced she could never be part of the military. But her time in the trenches at the United States Attorney’s Office in Chattanooga – working alongside former JAG officers Perry Piper, Chris Poole, James Brooks and Kent Anderson during an internship – changed her mind.
“I thought, ‘If this is the kind of professional JAG produces, that’s what I want to do.’”
The Judge Advocate General’s Corps, she says, shaped the kind of attorney she became. Rather than training narrow specialists, the corps develops lawyers as knowledgeable generalists, capable of handling whatever comes before the court – whether an environmental or labor law question, an international human rights issue or a First Amendment matter.
“You might be asked, ‘People are protesting outside the base. Can they do that in uniform? Out of uniform?’” she says. “Our job was to advise the commander. They trained us to be nimble and resourceful.”
One of the key components of Lea’s development as a litigator – one capable of working either side of the aisle depending on the case – was the constant feedback built into JAG training. During litigation exercises, everyone from legal secretaries to senior officers would gather to critique her opening statements, closing arguments and overall strategy. She’d then revise her approach based on their often piercing feedback.
“No one loves critique, but it became a natural part of my growth,” she says. “It helped me understand the gap between what I meant to say and what others actually heard. It was challenging at first, but incredibly enriching. Now it’s something I welcome because it makes me better.”
That regular gauntlet of feedback taught Lea to dive deep into the smallest details as she builds a case, then step back and take in the broader picture – a habit shaped in part by her global upbringing. The approach helped her craft arguments in cases involving issues as varied as sexual assault, DUI and disciplinary matters.
Her experience has continued to expand as a reservist, a role she still holds. From handling labor law, HIPAA and Privacy Act matters to investigating why a number of F-16s were grounded, the education, she says, never stopped.
Law on a global stage
The learning continued at her next post, beginning in 2017, when Lea served as a bilingual attorney arguing human rights cases before the European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg, France. Her work included direct litigation and client representation, as well as third-party interventions and soft-law projects through the Council of Europe. She focused primarily on freedom of expression and religious liberty, with additional work in family law and children’s rights.
Lea describes the period as an extraordinary season in her life, one that taught her humility and a deeper understanding of her place within the law. She believed it might never end, she says – but adds that “God had other plans.”
A return shaped by purpose
Family took Lea around the world when she was young, and it brought her back around it in 2025. Explaining her move from France to Tennessee, she puts it simply: “My family is here.”
That was enough. But there was still the matter of a job. Even someone with the breadth of Lea’s experience has to put in the legwork. To that end, she reconnected with a colleague at Baker Donelson, where she had previously spent a year as a paralegal. That conversation became a bridge to Chambliss – and ultimately to an offer she could not refuse.
Drawing on more than 15 years of experience as a state and federal prosecutor and international human rights lawyer, Lea is building a civil litigation practice centered on guiding businesses and individuals through questions of liability and litigation strategy, while also representing health care providers in complex regulatory and fraud-related matters.
In one sense, it’s a hard right turn from the human-centered work she did in Strasbourg and from the nonprofit path she once imagined for herself. But that’s not how Lea sees it. For her, the pursuit of justice continues uninterrupted.
“I don’t see my work at Chambliss as different in purpose. I’m still pursuing truth and justice – just in a different context,” she says. “We’re helping resolve disputes where parties disagree or someone has been wronged, using the law to find what’s right.”
Just as important as finding renewed purpose in her work is the satisfaction Lea has found in where she landed. It comes as little surprise that a global traveler – shaped by different cultures and communities – has quickly found her footing and a new professional home.
“I love it here. Everyone is friendly, focused and incredibly knowledgeable, and they welcomed me right in,” Lea says. “Every day brings new topics and challenges, which fits my natural curiosity. I also value the team aspect – being a full-service firm makes collaboration easy and rewarding. It aligns closely with the values I carry from military service: service before self, integrity and excellence.”
Justice beyond the courtroom
Although Lea’s professional path ultimately led elsewhere, her commitment to human-centered work has remained constant.
Early on, she sought out opportunities that placed her directly alongside people who needed help the most. In Williamsburg, Virginia, she volunteered with the Rita Welsh Literacy for Life program, working with Hispanic and Indian adults who were illiterate and teaching them English. It was hands-on, relational work, and it affirmed something she’d long known about herself: she was drawn to efforts that restored dignity and opened doors.
That same impulse followed her overseas. While living in France, she served on multiple boards focused on the defense of human rights, a role that allowed her to engage systemic issues while still staying connected to individual stories. Even now, she remains active on three such boards there.
As she looks ahead, she hopes to re-anchor that work locally. The timing, she acknowledges, is complicated. She is single-parenting two young daughters and, for now, they’re her first responsibility. Still, the desire to serve has not faded. She’s volunteered with Bridge International and remains particularly interested in organizations that work with people experiencing homelessness.
At home, that ethic takes on a less visible but no less intentional form. Over Thanksgiving, she and her daughters assembled small care bags to keep in the car – simple supplies they could offer to people they encountered. For her, it’s about modeling something enduring: not fearing the stranger, but moving toward them and offering what you can.
Life away from the law
Away from work, Lea’s world narrows and deepens in ways that matter most to her.
She describes her daughters, who are 6 and 4, as the joy of her life. They are, she says, endlessly energetic and curious – so much so that even after a full day, they’ll still ask if there’s time for one more adventure.
Travel already animates their imaginations, a surprise to no one given their family history. One of their favorite games is packing backpacks and suitcases, then deciding where in the world they’re going next – Italy, Germany, wherever their curiosity takes them.
In that sense, Lea is passing along the same openness she was given growing up: a view of life as an adventure, a genuine interest in other people and a lack of fear toward those who are unfamiliar.
Time is tight, but Lea is intentional about balance. She works out every morning and prioritizes connection as much as she can, attending a Thursday night networking group with friends from Covenant and gathering once a month with an international expat group to share a beer and conversation. In quieter moments, she journals, cooks, practices photography and runs.
Reading remains a constant and spans a wide range of subjects. Recently, she picked up “Separation of Church and Hate: A Sane Person’s Guide to Taking Back the Bible,” drawn by a desire to understand perspectives on Christian nationalism.
Her own faith, she says, is simple and grounding. She loves Jesus and believes He loves her in return. Every morning, she tells her daughters that Jesus created them, rejoices over them and saved them. It’s a message she wants them to carry – and one she intentionally repeats to herself each day.
Following the thread
Lea still makes time to journal – and to occasionally return to past entries, opening old notebooks and reading the waiting ink on their pages. She most often does this at the start of a new year, as she’s setting goals, or during a challenging season of life.
“I’ll say, ‘What’s the date today?’” she says. “Then I’ll check that same date two years ago, three years ago, even 15 years ago, just to see where I was.”
Most of Lea’s journals are packed away in storage. But if she digs deeply enough through those boxes and opens the oldest volumes, she’ll find evidence of a long-held ambition: a desire to stand in front of a classroom and teach.
She says her work as an attorney feeds that same instinct.
“The law satisfies my curiosity – learning new subjects, wrapping my brain around complex issues and seeing them as puzzles to solve,” Lea says. “Then it’s about breaking those ideas down so others can understand them. As a litigator, it’s important to take big concepts and teach the judge and jury what the material actually means.”
Lea has a way of looking back, but only to better understand how to move forward. She does so with an awareness of – and trust in – the guiding hand she believes has led her this far, from the rust-red soil of the Central African Republic to the lush hills and shimmering waters of Chattanooga.
And still, she remains open to wherever that hand might lead next. She once imagined she might return to Africa to teach. But that hasn’t happened – yet.