Castiel: Hello, Crowley. You look stressed.
Preacher: Plenty speak for them and their so-called lifestyle. Media. Hollywood. Lady Gaga won't shut up for love or money.
Preacher: Yeah, funny. But that's why we raise our voices! And picket their so-called weddings, and their funerals. Someone has to speak for God.
Castiel: And who says *you* speak for God? You're wrong. I am utterly indifferent to sexual orientation. On the other hand, I cannot abide hypocrites like you, Reverend.
Preacher: Okay, fun's over, friend.
Castiel: [walking up the aisle] Tell your flock where *your* genitals have been before you speak for Me.
Preacher: And who the heck are *you?*
Castiel: I'm God.
[a parishioner stands up; Castiel renders unconscious the man, who falls back onto the pew with enough force to break it]
Castiel: And he who lies in My name shall choke on his own false tongue, and his poisonous words shall betray him.
[the Reverend chokes, foams at the mouth and drops dead]
Castiel: For I am the Lord, your God.