Gospel Tract

By Melanie Gordon


A couple of teens are on out on assignment to pass out gospel tracts. They plant the first “seed” and we get to see what happens to a discarded tract left on a park bench.


Isaiah 55:11


2 Skateboarders.
2 Gang members.


Scene: Two teenagers are standing in a park near a bench holding gospel tracts.

Teen 1: Okay, dude, it’s your turn. Next person by is yours.

Teen 2: I know. Can’t understand why I get so wacked about his stuff. It’s what I believe and everything, I just spaz when I’m trying to tell somebody about it.

Teen 1: Don’t worry about saying much. Just tell ’em we’re from the church and would like to offer them some information. K?

Teen 2: Yeah, yeah I know....it’s just that we’ve given out a bunch of these things, we’ve tried to tell people about the gospel, nobody wants to hear it!

Teen 1: Hey, man, it’s not up to us what they do with the information; all we do is deliver the message. Here comes somebody.

(Teen 2 turns to see a woman walking down the sidewalk looking at her watch.)

Teen 2: (clears his throat to get her attention, then steps into her path as she goes to pass them) Excuse me, Miss. (she looks up at him blankly) Hi, I’m Joel and this is Brad and we’re, uh, from First Baptist Church and, uh, we, I’d like to offer this gospel tract to you. It tells you the best news you’ve ever heard. I hope you read it. Here you go. (she takes the tract he practically shoves into her hand) Well, have a great day. (both teens walk briskly away).

(The woman looks up as they walk off then looks at the gospel tract. With a look of frustration she throws it on the bench and keeps walking)

(A runner jogs up toward the bench out of breath, drinking water from his squirt bottle and puts his fingers to his neck to check his heart rate. He notices the tract, picks it up, turns it over, shakes it open, checks his watch (as he’s still checking his heart rate) looks at the open tract again, quickly perusing it, checks his watch again, notices his time is up and throws the open tract back onto the bench.)

(Two boys with skateboards walk up to the bench.)

Skater 1: Where are they? (He plops down on the bench, picks up the opened tract, and scans it.)

Skater 2: What do’ya mean, “where”?! They’re always late. I told you we should just meet them at the ramps. (He remains standing) What is that?

Skater 1: One of those religious things tellin’ you about Jesus stuff, heaven, hell, sin. You know, the stuff they talk about at Bible school. (He begins to fold the tract into an airplane)

Skater 2: Bible school. What Bible school. I never went to any Bible school. (He’s messing around on his board.)

Skater 1: Really? I went every summer when I was little. Yeah, believing in Jesus to get you to heaven, if you don’t, you go ‘you know where’. I even memorized some of those Bible verses... Let’s see, “Do unto others.... ummm … oh, here’s one, ‘For God so loved the world that He gave His only son that whoever believes in Him shall, uh, live, no, no, uh not die, and will have eternal life.” See, I told you I have a perfect memory! (He flies the airplane toward his friend who grabs it up, wads it up and throws it back at him)

Skater 2: Whatever...come on, let’s go. They’re probably already there. (skates or walks off)

Skater 1: (puts the wadded up tract back on the bench) Hey, man, wait up! (runs after his friend)

(A single gang member walks up to the bench and sits down. Seeing the paper wad, picks it up and tosses it in the air, then catches it and decides to open it. He begins to smooth out the wrinkles and reads it thoughtfully.)

Gang member 1: (reads out loud) ‘the Way, the Truth and the Life, no one comes to the Father except through Me.’

(A second ganger member walks up and GM1 stops reading.)

Gang member 1: Hey. What up?

Gang member 2: Nothin’. I didn’t know you could read. (laughing)

GM1: Yeah, not much. What’d you want to meet for?

GM2: (looks around nervously) You, ah, there tonight right?

GM1: Gotta be. You?

GM2: Yeah. Brought you a little somethin’.

(GM2 hands GM1 a paper bag. GM1 opens the bag and pulls out a gun just enough to see the butt of the handle and shoves it back in, then shoves the bag in a pocket of his jacket looking around discreetly to see if anyone saw him.)

GM1: Man, where’d you get this? Never mind. I don’t want it.

GM2: You better want it, if you want to be leavin’ that bangin’ tonight. This ain’t no game. Just because you ain’t been hit yet don’t mean it ain’t gonna happen. That blade might be enough where you come from but it’s not gonna keep you alive here. You oughta be thankin’ me, boy, not tryin’ to give it back. Keep the gat. Styx told me to deliver it to you.

(GM1 just looks at him.)

GM2: Geez.... whatever, man. You don’t want it, ditch it, but don’t tell Styx you did. I’m gone. (walks away)

GM1: (watches him leave, sits for a moment with head down. Sighs, and then picks up the tract once more. He reads out loud slowly) ‘that if you confess with your mouth Jesus as Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved’

(He puts the paper down, shakes his head) No way, man, not me. There ain’t enough forgiveness for that. (Begins to wad it back up, stops, deciding not to.) Maybe. Just maybe. (He flattens out the paper and folds it up carefully and starts to tuck it into his the pocket of his jacket, but finds the gun instead. He pulls out the paper bag, looks at it) It’s gotta be better than this. (He looks around and finds a garbage can a few feet from the bench. Throwing away the bag he carefully puts the folded up tract in his coat and walks off.)

Voice over: “So will My word be which goes forth from My mouth, it will not return to Me empty without accomplishing what I desire, and without succeeding in the matter for which I sent it.”


© Melanie Gordon, all rights reserved. The script may not be reproduced, translated or copied in any medium, including books, CDs and on the Internet, without written permission of the author.
This play may be performed free of charge, on the condition that copies are not sold for profit in any medium, nor any entrance fee charged. In exchange for free performance, the author would appreciate being notified of when and for what purpose the play is performed. She may be contacted at: melgor@bellsouth.net