Professional Documents
Culture Documents
How to Use These monologues are for use with the six week sermon series that is contained in the I am Second Campaign Kit published by Outreach. Information about this kit is available at iamsecondoutreach.com. Big Idea The Live Second Story is a short drama to be played out by a church member live and on stage each week. This person will share the story of a Bible character as if it were their own story. Each Live Second Story is presented in such a way where the audience is not immediately aware that this story is from the Bible but instead appears to be the actors own personal story. The Bible story told each week will be the same story on which the weekly sermon is based. Below is a suggested script. The point is not to word-for-word recite this script but rather capture the main storyline of each character and tell it in an authentic, realistic, and moving manner. Set-Up White Chair- Have the storyteller sit in a simple white chair. It does not need to be the exact same white chair as in the I am Second films. Black Shirt and Jeans- Each storyteller should dress in plain black shirt and blue jeans. Lighting: If possible, dim the lights in the sanctuary/auditorium and light the storyteller with a single white light. Sermon 1 Monologue- Woman at the Well Script: Woman at the Well- adapted from John 4:4-47 (5-6 minutes) (to be played by middle-aged woman) I met him outside of my town. He was thirsty and he asked me for a drink. It was a simple request. But people like him didnt talk to people like me. Even the people in my own town wouldnt talk with me, except maybe to judge me. I knew what they said when I wasnt around. So I avoided them. I would go to this place just outside of town when I knew nobody else would be there.
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I guess, in a way, I felt like I deserved it. I made a lot of mistakes in my life. Id been married a few times. Five to be exact. Nobody knew how many times I had been married but they knew I was a mess. Each time, we were totally in love. It was always so great in the beginning. I dont know what would happen. But something always happened. Things would change. No matter how hard I tried, each marriage ended the same way. Yelling and pain and bad memories. I guess I kind of gave up on marriage. I found someone else. We were living together. He wanted to marry me but I couldnt do it. I had tried marriage and I just couldnt make it work. Well, thats when I met this man. I was on the edge of town, getting a drink. And he asked me to get him one, too. I couldnt understand why he was trying to talk with me. So I asked him. And you know what he said? He said, that if I knew who he was, I would ask him for a drink. Mostly out of curiosity, I agreed and asked for him to give me a drink. And that is when it happened. Most people knew part of my story, but nobody knew everything. But he did. He told me everything I had ever done. He knew I had been married five times. He knew that I was living with someone else. He knew things only God could know. He knew everything. I told him that my town believed someone like him would one day come, that someone who knew everything, who had all the answers would one day come to our people. And he simply said, I am that person. Something changed in me that day. I believed him and I believed he was the one we had all been waiting for. Though he knew everything I had ever done, he gave forgiveness not condemnation. He gave kindness not judgment. He knew who I was, all my mistake, but he still talked with me, still cared about me, still forgave me. I went back to town and told everyone about this man. They were just as amazed as I was. He was the one we had all been waiting for. The one who came to save the world. Whats his name you ask? His name is Jesus. I am the woman at the well and I am Second.
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My family brought me to religious people, they brought me to doctors, but nobody seemed to be able to help me. They couldnt help me and they couldnt contain me. I think eventually people just tried to forget about me. I know my family certainly did. I dont even blame them. I caused them so much pain, so much embarrassment. Then one day, this man approached me. He was different. I was crazed and naked and as filthy as ever but he looked right at me and was completely calm and in control. There was none of the fear or hatred that I was so used to seeing in peoples eyes. Seeing such calmness and such strength frightened me. I had never met someone like this. He said something, but when he spoke it was like he wasnt speaking to me but was talking to whatever was inside of me. I cant even describe it. All I know is that when he spoke, the haze that had so long covered my eyes blew away. The craziness that had flooded my head fell completely and utterly calm. The insanity left. I remember standing there staring into his calm and loving eyes. Seeing the strength, the power, but also the softness that rested within his face. I fell to me knees, unable to even vocalize the thanks that welled up in my eyes. But he heard it nonetheless. A few simple words and I was healed. I had my life back. You may think that I am still crazy to be talking about a man who with a few simple words cured my insanity. But let the calmness in my voice, the soundness of my mind, and the clothes on my body testify that Jesus made this crazy man well. And this is the story I will tell till the day I die. I was the insane man but now I am Second.
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wore ridiculous clothes that he would buy at the most expensive stores, go to these parties and then go home with whatever girl he could. After a while, we stopped hearing about him. Nobody knew what happened to him. I figured he just passed out drunk in some ditch, and that was the end of him. I was glad to not have to hear about Dads precious little boy anymore. But just when I thought we had heard the last of him, he showed up looking totally pitiful. He smelled like a pig. He looked half starved; serves him right for the way he wasted Dads money. He needed to be taught a lesson. He acted like he was so sorry for what he had done, for everything that he wasted. He kept apologizing to Dad, to everyone. I didnt believe him, still dont. But Dad couldnt stand seeing his favorite son look so miserable. So instead of letting him learn his lesson, Dad threw him a party. Can you believe that? Dad invited all his friends, bought all this food, and celebrated my brother. My Dad tells me I shouldve been happy to have my brother back, that my brother had learned his lesson. He said that my brother was once dead but now he was back. He kept saying that he had learned his lesson and we needed to forgive him. I can forgive, but that doesnt mean I ever want to see him again. I am the better brother, and I am first.
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have money. I was promoted because of how much tax I was getting from people. But the money and the success made me feel so dirty. About that time, people everywhere started talking about a man who forgave people. They said that this man had the power to forgive, that God somehow listened to this mans prayers. There were rumors he might even be the man who would deliver our country from our enemies. Even if only half of this was true, I had to see this man for myself. Could he really forgive sins? I couldnt stop thinking about that. Then he came to my town. I saw this crowd coming down my street. I knew it had to be him. With the crowd and chaos, I would never be able to see him. I was too short. Money couldnt buy height. So I climbed a nearby tree. And just as I swung up on the boughs of the tree, the man began to pass by and then he stopped, right there under the tree. He turned his head and looked right at me. I was terrified. He was a religious leader. I was a god-hating tax collector. What was I thinking? Why would he talk with me, unless it was to spew more hate and more condemnation? Forgiveness? What was I thinking? I was the enemy. I was the blasphemer and sinner. But he just stared at me, and slowly began to smile. Get down from the tree, Zaccheaus, he said. Today, Im eating at your house. What! I looked around me. Surely, he is kidding. Surely, he means someone else. But he was looking right at me, and then he said it again. Zaccheaus, Im eating at your house, today. Get down from that tree. Forgiveness. Thats what that was. He didnt have to say another word. I knew he was offering forgiveness. I invited all my friends to have dinner with us. Of course, it was only other sinners, other tax collectors that came to my house. Not good men, not religious men. That is not who I hung out with. But this man was different. After talking more with Jesus over dinner, I stood up and I told everyone there, all my friends, that everything was changing. I was going to give back everything I had ever stolen, everything I had ever cheated people out of, with interest; and I was giving half of everything I owned to the poor. I was a numbers guy, I knew I would have nothing left, I was giving everything away. I would be as poor and desperate as ever. But money and success meant nothing after meeting Jesus. I still consider myself rich, just rich in a whole nother way. I am Zaccheaus who climbed a tree, and I am Second.
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The whole town seemed to mourn. But I think it hit me and my sister the most. Not just because our brother was gone but because the one person who could have saved him never came. We didnt understand. He had healed so many. Why not my brother? Why not his friend? Four days later, we saw him. I dont know why he was coming now. My brother was already dead. He had missed it. I ran up to him and I asked him. Hurt and confused. Angry and pained. Why didnt you come? I cried. You could have saved him. Im not sure if I believed or only hoped in some wild desperate hope, but something glimmered in the back of my mind. I had seen the lame walk, the blind see, the sick healed, and, yes, I had even see the dead rise. All at the command of his word. My eyes were full of tears, and his too began to wet. Tears fell down both our faces. Jesus, I gasped through my tears. I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask. Trust me, he said. I am the resurrection and the life. I wanted to trust him but my brother wasnt just sick, he was dead. He walked up to the tomb, weeping the whole way. His tears falling into the dust as he walked. Open the tomb, he commanded. I hesitated. Lazarus was long dead now. His body full of stink and rot. I told you to trust me, he said, staring back into my wet eyes. We opened the tomb. Lazarus was dead. The stench filled our noses. I wept all the more. Then Jesus prayed and shouted towards the tomb, Lazarus, come out! [pause for dramatic effect] And he did. He came out! My brother, my dead brother was alive. Not just alive but walking, burial clothes still draped across his now living flesh. People may call me crazy for believing in a God that cant be seen. For believing in a savior t hat was nailed to a cross, a messiah that died a criminals death. But I believe because I saw death itself conquered by the Son of God, by a man named Jesus. I am Martha, and I am Second.
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