The Story as Told by the Cross

A monologue discussing Jesus' life and His journey to the cross.

Theme:

To an onlooker, some of the ways Jesus was treated and the things that were said to Him seemed so unfair. But are we doing the same things today?

Bible Reference:

• Luke 4:1-13

Cast:

• One actor (male or female)

Set, Lighting, Sound:

• Minimalist stage setup
• Simple spotlight on the actor
• Soft background sound (optional)

Costume:

• Simple, neutral clothing to keep the focus on the words

Estimated Runtime:

• 6–8 minutes

Sample Script

(The speaker stands center stage, pausing before beginning, reflecting deeply.)

SPEAKER

(Thoughtful, looking out at the audience)

Isn’t it amazing the variety of ways God speaks to us?

Of course, there are the obvious—like listening to the minister, reading the Bible, or singing hymns. But on those occasions when we allow ourselves to fully open up to Him, He’s there…

(Soft smile)

… in the form of children laughing, a beautiful sunrise, a quiet moment with your dog, or even in a dream.

(Pauses, reflecting)

God touched me in a very special way a few months ago, and He made it very clear that He expected more from me than to just tuck it away somewhere in the back of my mind.

I was to write about it—to share what He brought to me.

(Shaking head slightly)

“But I’m no writer,” I rationalized. “I can’t do justice to such an awesome experience.”

(Beat)

But that’s exactly what He expected.

(Slight chuckle)

I procrastinated. But He persisted.

Then I got distracted.

(Softer, more serious)

But then He showed me how I was putting worldly things ahead of Him.

That’s all it took.

(Stronger)

I started writing.

(Pauses, reflecting on the memory)

A young lady in our church performed an interpretive dance during the worship service one Sunday morning.

I’ve always loved dancing, and it was fascinating to watch her move with the music.

(Looking off as if recalling the moment)

Although I was mesmerized at the time, right now, I’m at a loss to recall the details.

(Beat)

I do recall the look on her face.

(Soft smile, eyes lighting up)

She was radiant, blissful as she offered her gift to the Father.

(Nods, deeply moved)

I’ve had that feeling myself.

I rejoiced with her in it.

(Expression shifts to one of realization)

But the one thing I remember with absolute clarity is the moment she paused—arms stretched out to either side.

(Beat, voice softens)

And in that simple pose, I saw a cross.

Not in the traditional form of wooden beams…

(Shakes head slightly)

…but in human form.

(Intensely)

A human cross.

Like me.

(Beat, realization sinking in)

I am the cross.

(Softer, with emotion)

In a flash of clarity, I realized that it wasn’t the nails in His hands and feet that caused Jesus’ pain and suffering.

(Pause, looking out at the audience)

It was me.

(Beat, voice barely above a whisper)

He didn’t die as a result of being tortured upon a plank of wood.

(Stronger)

He gave His life… to save me from the torment of my own sinfulness.

(Beat, voice filled with emotion)

He put Himself between me… and eternal damnation.

(Long pause, letting the weight of the words settle)

You still don’t quite understand, do you?

(Soft chuckle, shaking head)

It’s okay.

I knew this would be tough to explain.

(Thinking, then an idea forms)

Instead of trying to tell this story by starting at the end, maybe it will help if we go back to the beginning.

(Gazes upward, imagining something greater)

Crosses, as we have come to know them, are made from trees.

(Beat)

So let’s start with that in mind.

Let’s start out… as a tree.

(The speaker subtly shifts stance, embodying the growing tree, looking outward as if seeing the world from its roots.)

As a tiny seed, I was fortunate to fall onto the fertile ground of a garden. The rich soil made it easy to take root.

I learned much through conversing with the other trees and plants that lived there.

(Beat)

They explained what would happen when I got older—

(Leaning in slightly, voice dropping)

…how we trees would eventually be taken down…

(Softer)

…hacked into firewood, burned up, or—at best—made into a piece of wretched furniture.

(Disgusted, shaking head)

What a miserable fate!

(Beat, voice shifts to one of longing)

From time to time, a procession would pass by, offering glimpses of the most magnificent treasures and beautifully dressed people.

(Eyes lighting up)

Now that was more like it!

(Determined)

Definitely the life for me!

And so, it became my fervent desire to be part of one of those splendid households.

(Stronger)

I would be a lavishly carved banquet table…

(More excited)

Or a gilded chariot…

(Dreamlike, as if seeing it in front of them)

Or even the bearer of royalty…

(Beat)

A throne…

(Soft, reverent)

…for a King.

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