Everything Skit Story

Is Jesus really your everything?

            Hi! I am Sky, and I wrote this story about a week ago and I just wanted to share it with everyone. It is based on a speechless skit (see note at the end) by the same name. Both the story and skit are about a young Christian girl who is distracted by sin until she realizes that all she really ever needs is her Savior, ChristAmazing!


            I am in a meadow.

            Rainbows have taken the cloak of green leaves but still sprout forth to greet me. Swirling grasses twirl like my skirt. They sway and bend and dance in the wind just as I dance with my best friend.

            I am dancing with Jesus.

            Shared smiles flash between us. Love is a constant flicker in His eyes. Sunlight only adds a twinkle to His glowing face, radiating with compassion and understanding. Jesus knows me. As we dance and twirl and sing, I drink in His presence. Comfort rests in His embrace. Each word He speaks finds a home in my heart.

            My heart is complete. It is whole. I am a donut; my center is Jesus. My center stays. Once there, it can’t be removed. I am an entire donut. And that’s pretty rare.

            The center fills my inside. Jesus fills the emptiness inside me. But if I turn my gaze outwardly, the beautiful inside becomes less obvious to me. Less important.

            I glance around me, taking my focus off of dancing with Jesus for only a moment. But in that moment, I see a guy, tall and handsome with shimmering green eyes, staring at me across the meadow. He comes nearer, trampling many beautiful flowers in his wake. Still he comes. Nearer. Nearer.

            My attention is on him. Between dips and sways and spins I look at him.

            “Little dear one, I am here.” Jesus is gently reminding me He is here, with me, dancing in my own meadow. But now I desire to dance with this new guy, whose brilliant green eyes have seemed to enchant me. I want to be with this man who now consumes my attention. He comes nearer.

            The guy shoves Jesus out of the way and grasps my hands. We dance.

            My heart tries to discard its old center, wanting to replace it. It wants to squish this guy inside as its new donut middle. Yum. Or yuck.

            I suddenly feel like I’m missing something. My new center doesn’t fit quite right. It leaves too many spaces, holes, gaps. It wiggles around. I am not a complete donut anymore.

            I glance at Jesus. My heart exhales a soft cry, a mew, like a kitten yearning for its mother. “Jesus,” my lips breathlessly murmur. He reaches for me. He still wants me…His strong hand is coming to save me, waiting to pull me close the moment I reach out for it as well. Jesus is smiling, happy I want Him… but I glance back at the guy dancing with me now. Back at Jesus. Back at the guy. Which am I willing to give up?

            The guy realizes my indecision. He glares at Jesus. Me.He shoves me. Hard. I tumble, squishing more delicate flowers. I try to search for Jesus. That guy is in my way!

            But this makes me ashamed. I wanted him, not Jesus. Jesus is motioning for me to look at Him, come running to Him. Above me looms another cute guy. My eyes decide to disregard him and instead drift to his hands. Straight green leaves, more beautiful than any I have ever seen, peek through his fingers.

            Square blades of crisp, green money.

            My heart is now trying to fit in a new center. I let it. Money…This could solve all my problems. Anything I every need, want, this is the answer! No more longing.

            I want it. I need it. I WANT…

            “Give it!!!” I bark at the man.

            A devilish grin exposes itself on the lips high above me. I stand up, reach out for the money. He jumps, evading my searching fingers. He wiggles the stacks of flat emeralds, stacks of grass, paper, MONEY, taunting me like a dog. He tosses it all into the air. Bills shower down, raining enough to swim in for the rest of my life. I plunge and dive to get them. Rabid, I scoop up as many as possible, crunching and snapping more fragile flowers. Only a few surround me now that are in perfect condition.

            Once more, I look up. The money man has joined the first guy, blocking Jesus, who is now the farthest away from me He’s ever been.

            Or am I getting farther away from Him?

            I stand up, start staggering towards Him. But I am yanked backwards. A tall, slim girl with startling blonde hair arranged in perfect curls looms above me in a flashing orange dress. She looks as if she just stepped off a runway.

            “Mm, mm, mm. Honey, you look down right awful! Dear, dear. Your skin isn’t smooth, clothes all wrinkly, hair ratty…Oh! Goodness me. A ponytail? Never, never, honey.” She steps closer and rips out my ponytail, letting my honey-brown hair fall. She fusses with its frizziness as she continues her critique. “A little plump in the belly, short in the legs…”

            Do I really look that bad? I jolt away from her. I fiddle with my hair, stroke my bumpy cheeks, squish my belly… I throw up. Again. Again. Again…Flatten out my clothes. Try to jog a little. Fix my dangling hair. All of a sudden I am obsessive over my looks.

            “There you are, honey. Almost there, not quite. Keep up the good work, doll. You’ll look like me in no time!”

            Frantic. Why hasn’t anyone told me? I rush to the little creek bordering my meadow, feeding the flowers life. The shimmering blue has turned a sickening grayish purple. The trees guarding it on either bank have lost their green luster, now corroding and rotting into worthless decay, but I can still see my reflection. Ugly. Ugly! No one could ever love me…not like this. I turn around, looking for the model. I need help! I run back.

            Running. This will be good for me. Lose some weight. Got to be like that girl.

            I trample flowers in the process. My meadow is becoming bleak. Ominous clouds, the color of the ghastly creek water, billow overhead. A shadow has fallen across the meadow, no longer looking bright and full of life.

            Now I finally see the model. She is with the other two guys, flirting with the first, but all of them are blocking Jesus. Jesus… He is still trying to get my attention. Why won’t He just come for me? Must I go to Him first? I’ve messed up, I know. But I can’t admit that. Does He already know? Surely He can tell! But all I can think about now is that model. Comparing, planning, devising a strategy of how to become exactly like her. I don’t have blonde hair. I have already failed!

            I feel a weight on my shoulders. My best friend is hugging me, or leaning on me for support. She holds a cracked beer bottle in a wobbly hand. She teeters. Her bitter breath clearly shows my friend is drunk.

            “Here, here.” Burp. “You’ve gotten to tries it some. Makes you feels better. No more problems. Happy and no cares in the world. Trust…” Buuuuuuurp. “…me!”

            She collapses at my feet. The bottle rolls away from her bone thin hand, emptying its horrid content on the grass, my meadow, poisoning any remaining flowers. I quickly lean down and grasp the bottle before it is all empty. Two inches of the swishing liquid remain. I chug it.

            I feel better. I am satisfied. Joyous…but not for long. The sensation is fleeting. Soon I’m throwing up again. This stuff is powerful, burning away at my belly. I collapse on the ground next to my friend, pressing the life out of all green and growing things below me. I roll around in the agony of a serious belly ache. Through blurry vision, I notice my friend is with the other three, clinging to the money man’s arm for support now. All three block my sight of Jesus. All three form a barrier between me and Him. Surely He cannot want me now.

            I pass out.

            A scratchy fabric smelling of rancid, burnt popcorn itches my nose. I open my eyes to see a cloaked figure above me. I hear it sniff me; it sounds as if it has a cold, like it can’t breathe through its own smoking stench. The hooded part raises slightly, but all I see is sucking blackness ringed by this even darker robe. Blazing red eyes flick open, and I scream.

            It shrinks away. Five feet. Five collapsing feet between me and him. On all fours, the creature crouches, glaring at me with intense hatred in its eyes. A creaking voice, like a squeaky door on a rusty hinge, enhanced with a darting forked tongue, inquires in a low, crawling tone, “Alone? Afraid? I can end it for you, yesssss. Oh yessss, I can, can, CAN!”

            He extends an arm. His scratchy nails shine forth and crawl down my arm. Fierce pain burns in the claw-paths left behind.

            “Here, use thisssssss.” He hands me a knife. “Like thissss.” He grasps my quaking hand clasped over the handle and drags it near my wrist.

            But I fling the knife down and run. Run, run, RUN! He appears right in front of me. I look down. The unused knife lies among dead grasses, a patch of despairing gray shaped like a footprint. I glance behind me. Dead grasses and flowers in areas etched in the form of footprints, every few inches or so, lead to the smelly thing in front of me. The smell of decaying flesh or rotting apples or spoiled eggs wreathes around me. This is Death, or Satan, or both.

            And he is causing my mangled meadow to fully wither and die.

            “How about thissssss?” He hands me an object as black as his nonexistent face. A gun. He pulls my arm towards my head, positioning the killing device.

            To my side, far, far away now, at the extreme edge of the meadow surrounded by the only patch of surviving flowers, is Jesus. He is standing, no – jumping!, behind the guy I danced with, the money man, the model, my best friend. I look up at the devil, who steps back, a sickly grin on his lifeless face, his arms spread apart as he admires his masterpiece. He thinks he has won, backing up to block Jesus with the others.

            “Ha! Jesusssss, one more have you lost! Seized by ssssin. You have lost. Lost! I have won another round!” He emits a shrill shriek, piercing the meadow, raking it with the claws of evil and injustice. Green, dirty and muddled, melts into the ground. Weeds spring up in its place. My meadow is gone. Forever lost.

            But not me. Not yet. Satan has not won. He will never win! My shaking arm tosses aside the weapon of death. I jump up, sprint towards Jesus. The devil grips my shoulders, hard, and pushes me down. I get up and try again. I conquer a few more inches. Together with my own best friend, still drunk, the devil throws me down again. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up…

            All five foes try to grasp me; tug my hair, yank my arms, and kick at my legs. They try to drag me down with them. Jesus is so close! His eyes are locked on mine, willing me not to give up but come running to Him. I need Him! I need You, Jesus! I reach, stretch, strain my weary arms. I can almost touch Him. His hand is reaching for mine; our fingers brush.

            I collapse.

            All five villains rush for me. They strive to attack and destroy me. Jesus is here first. He shields me from the sins. They struggle to get at me from behind His powerful, outstretched arms.

            But they can’t get a hold of me anymore. Jesus has forgiven me. I have accepted His forgiveness.

            I am free. My center is back; I am a whole donut once more.

            Jesus shoves them back. They hurdle towards the harsh, dying ground, but before hitting it, they disappear. Jesus reaches down for me. He lifts me up with His gentle hands and brushes me off. He wipes away the stains of sin. Jesus slowly spins me so that my back faces Him. His hands gracefully gather my hair into a ponytail and tie it together with the stem of a new-grown flower; my straight brown hair seems to be a waterfall flowing out from under that flower. He spins me back around and hugs me, whispering, “My child, I am here. I will never leave you nor forsake you. I have always been here, and I am glad you have come to Me once more. I love you.”

            And so, we begin to dance forever more, watching my meadow spring into its glorious array of vivid colors once again.


This story is not totally my idea. I got part of the idea from a speechless skit that is performed with the song “Everything” by the band Lifehouse. This is one of my favorite songs ever! So, I decided I would put words to the skit from the girl’s perspective as narrator. You can click on the link below to see it, but I could not find it otherwise online (since there are no words) so I do not know who the credit goes to. I just sort of filled the story in a little and included a meadow, which was the symbol of the girl’s life.

Everything Skit


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