The Prodigal Son’s Older Brother
Luke 15:11-32
Introduction. This
skit focuses on the older son in this parable.
I can find no better drama for the story involving the youngest son than
that one titled The
Prodigal by the Skit Guys. The two
done back-to-back make for a powerful message.
Cast: One young man
dressed in overalls. A little makeup for
dirt and messed up hair could help. He
should look like a man who has put in a long day’s work. A handkerchief to occasionally wipe his
forehead during the skit might add to the “working” factor.
Set: Any. The ability to have some music and party
sounds in the background adds to the setting.
[Stage begins with low lighting. Party music and voices are loud in the
background. Centerstage, the single
character walks back and forth kicking at the ground in frustration for 10-15
seconds, then the music comes down and the lights go up.]
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Unbelievable! After all of these
years of faithful service, he throws my no good, want my money now so I can
spend it on prostitutes and wild living, little brother a party.
The fattest cow on the lot is on the spit. The wine is flowing. I can’t believe how loud the music is. Everyone is laughing and shouting. It’s insane.
I even heard that Dad was so glad to see him that he ran to
him and gave him a hug, and then new clothes and a ring and this incredible
party. It is incredible because the
little, no good… I had better stop
there.
I am so ticked off right now. I am so…
And then, when Dad finds out that I won’t go into the party,
and he comes out to find me. I gave him
a piece of my mind.
I mean, really, I worked all these years like a slave for
him. I didn’t even ask him to give me a
scrawny goat so I could have a scrawny goat party with my friends. And now this!
Does he not remember that his youngest son—I don’t
even want to call him my brother right now— his youngest son took his
inheritance and squandered it? Even to
ask for it was to wish Dad was already out of the picture. That’s unforgiveable.
[Stares off into space for a few moments]
But sure enough, he forgave him, despite everything he had
done. How could my father love him so
much and treat me like a slave?
[Falls to knees and starts crying]
How can things be so upside down? Dad has always done what is right? Is he losing it?
[Holds head in his hands quietly for a few moments and then
stands]
No, he is not losing it.
He is right on target as usual.
Dad told me that whatever he had has always been mine. It’s always been mine.
He has always loved me.
He never stopped. It was me who
decided to work like a slave for him because I wanted to earn his love, but I
already had his love. I already had his
love.
I couldn’t do anything to earn it, and, and, and my
knuckleheaded brother couldn’t do anything to lose it.
OMG! It’s not about
the estate or the money or the stuff or the work or any of that. Dad loves both of us because he is Dad.
Of course he had to welcome back my little brother—stupid,
wasteful, lived it up while I was working my bottom off brother. He was dead and now he is alive. He was lost and now he is found.
How could Dad do anything but celebrate? How could I miss that? It’s not about me or that knuckleheaded
brother. It’s about Dad’s love. It’s all about my father’s love. How could Dad do anything other than hold a
celebration?
Me, on the other hand, understand what Dad did, but it’s
going to be tougher for me to celebrate like that right now.
I hope that one day I can love whatever children are in my
future like Dad loves us, but for now I just need to work up the nerve to go
into that party and give my brother a hug and not put him in a headlock.
The odds are against it.
My blood is still boiling, but I want to be like my Dad. I want to love my children
unconditionally. I guess that I had
better start by practicing on that no good, prostitute loving….err, I mean on
my little brother.
[Looks directly at audience.]
This is not going to be easy. You had better start praying for me now.
[Walks off shaking head left to right, still a little in
disbelief.]
The end.
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