My Lost Sons

(Disponible en inglés y español)

A powerful retelling of the familiar parable of the Prodigal Son—this time with a striking twist. In this 8-minute drama, the father doesn’t just lose one son, but both. The wayward younger son squanders his inheritance and drifts into ruin, while the elder son hardens his heart with bitterness and envy.

Through raw and honest dialogue, this play reveals the heartbreak of a parent torn between grief and hope, and the tragedy of a family broken by sin and pride. Yet, it also shines a light on the deeper truth—that God’s love never fails, and His forgiveness is always ready for the repentant.

Minimal staging makes this script easy to produce anywhere. With just three male roles, simple spotlights, and no props, the focus stays fully on the emotional weight of the story.

Perfect for services, youth groups, or special events, My Lost Sons© challenges audiences to reflect on God’s supreme love, the dangers of unforgiveness, and the call to reconciliation.

• Run-time: 8 minutes
• Cast number: 3 men (Father, Elder Son, Younger Son)
• Props: None
• Biblical reference: Luke 15:11–32 (The Parable of the Prodigal Son)

Sample Script

Father is at center stage, Elder and Younger Son are at either side of Father. Actors project to downstage, do not look at each other. Actors will freeze except when delivering their lines.

Father: What a shame! Seems I simply can’t keep my sons content, and with me.

Younger: How could I be so foolish, I wasted my life.

Elder: My parent had two sons. I refuse to acknowledge them as father or brother. I was always the diligent, hard worker, and he, the prodigal fool!

Father: So many times, late at night and alone, I cry out to God, asking what I did to cause my younger son to choose a path of disobedience, and my elder son to be so unloving.

Younger: Some force inside me seemed to push me to forget all I had learned in my father’s house, to set a course that could only lead to disaster. I know now that force was . . a sinful nature.

Elder: Here I am, faithful, hardworking, here all along, doing the work which he should have performed. And all I heard from, (vindictively), my parent was how much, (vindictively), his son has been missed.

Father: My younger son demanded his inheritance. Of course I was deeply hurt. In my culture an inheritance comes only after the death of the parent. So it was the same as my son wishing I was dead.

Younger: How stupid of me! Demanding that which may or may not rightfully at some future date become mine, but certainly not while my father was alive.

Father: Regardless, of course I agreed. I loved my son. I have never stopped loving my son. My son is . . a part of me. My son is me!

Younger: And so I turned my back on my home. Much more, I turned my back on my culture, my upbringing, my faith . . . I turned my back on my father, and all he stood for.

Father: It broke my heart to see him go. My neighbours, in the marketplace and in the temple, their tongues were clacking like old widows with nothing better to do. This talk behind my back was, at times, painful. But by far most painful of all was the attitude and words of his brother, my elder son.

Elder: It made me furious, seeing how my parent grieved over his son. Grieving for one who, with eyes wide open, had chosen his consequences.

Father: From time to time I received reports of the dreadful lifestyle and companions my younger son now embraced.

Elder: Whenever I tried to discuss the matter of his son’s shocking behaviour with my parent, all my parent would do is shed a tear and say a prayer. Tears and prayers better wasted on someone of some slight worth.

Father: Many parents have travelled this frightening road, waiting and praying for a child who has lost his way.

Elder: My parent’s attitude was becoming less and less tolerable, clinging to the hope that his wretch son would somehow magically turn his life around, come to his senses, and return home. As for me, I knew full well that his son was a worthless fool, beyond hope.

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