Not Here for the Plot

We are that guy. 

You know the one. The collar showing up on your TV show. The priest with three lines in the soap opera, usually there to bless or bury someone, or to say something vaguely spiritual before the scene cuts back to the people who actually matter to the plot. We may show up in a gangster movie for a baptism scene—holy water, Latin, candles—while the capo orders hits on his enemies - for the priest has no idea how the real world works, and neither does God, apparently. We show up in a hospital drama, walk in, say something soft and forgettable that barely echoes Scripture, and walk out before the real conversation begins. The one where comfort will be pronounced by a character with well-crafted lines accompanied with a swelling soundtrack, a killer close-up, and a dry cut to the next scene. We may even show up in a sitcom—the awkward, slightly out-of-touch minister, good for a gentle joke about sin and then back to the characters people actually tuned in for. 

In those scenarios, we perform what secular culture expects. That can translate into signaling that a moment is serious, or being the "progressive" minister who breaks principles to bless whatever the script demands. And when culture does want to talk about meaning—about transcendence, about what happens when life falls apart—the script points elsewhere. The specialist with the perfect office. The wise friend, the person who really knows what it means to have hardships in life. 

That impression frequently transposes into real life. The minister at the seniors' home service that is non relatable to relatives walking by, but who may be thankful that at least someone still caters to the beliefs of a past generation. People show up at funerals expecting the minister to only celebrate life and give prime time to the eulogies. It is common to expect that if there's a pastor present anywhere, he is not there to preach Law and Gospel—but to baptize culture and bless the spirit of the time. 

And in those few occasions when pastors and churches get front and center, churches and pastors are often seen as those who use the Word to secure money, rather than using money to proclaim the Word. We know that Hollywood didn't invent the caricature of the out-of-touch or corrupt minister out of thin air; high-profile church scandals and commercialized religion provided material for the script. We also know, though, that a script portraying the majority of well-working, though imperfect, congregations won’t make it to the top 10 most-watched shows and certainly will not be up for any nominations. 

That's us. In the scene, but not quite of the scene. 

And honestly? That's okay. 

Because even if that’s the version the script writes for us, that's not the only “that guy” we are. 

Collar or no collar, we will keep fulfilling our role. Fitting the cultural moment or misfitting it completely. Saying words that land well or saying verses that hit a nerve nobody wanted touched. Showing up to the seniors' home service even if half the room didn't choose to be there and some have stopped believing somewhere around 1987. Showing up to the hospital room where some families look at us like we are the last resort—which, in their minds, we probably are. 

Showing up anyway. Because we know that culture needs what we have, but it has been conditioned to look for it elsewhere.  The ironic tragedy here is that culture is starving while sitting next to a banquet, settling for one-liners and adequate soundtracks that may not last beyond the next binge-worthy watch series. 

Here's the thing, though. 

For those wearing the collar who do it out of calling and not performance, who serve people because of the Truth, and who embrace ministry because of the Master—none of that is for the script. Whether you know it or not, whether you like it or not, none of it is staged for the perfect scene or crafted for words that will linger in people's minds forever. What we ultimately do is connect real people to the real God. Because it isn't just about showing up; it’s about what you bring when you show up. We bring the Word that kills (the Law, confronting the illusion that we are in control) and makes alive (the Gospel, grace for the helpless).  That fits the job description perfectly. And that's exactly why it can seldom be properly portrayed in a piece of fiction. 

But it does in real life. Here, we don’t mind being patient and waiting, even if in the hallway. We wait. We return. We remain. 

We are that guy. 

And we wouldn't trade it for any other role.