To The Board: Prop Memo

Shama, The President

TO: MEMBERS OF THE BOARD OF TRUSTEES

FROM: THE PRESIDENT

DATE: March 19, 2025

SUBJECT: PROP PASTORS

BODY:

I’m not a pastor, but I’ve played a pastor on Instagram.

A while back, I noticed a couple of pastors using ladders in their sermons.

I thought it was funny, so I wrote some funny lines. Two of my cowriters punched it up, and it was ready for production.

Production is straightforward. I go to my church, which has graciously allowed me to film in it for 5 years. I bring a duffle bag of clothes, hats, shoes, my Canon C200 case, and my camera operator, Tony. (Tony does not come in a bag. He drives himself)

We made the video; I edited it, and it went to air. (Instagram stories at 8 am)

Pastors with Props was the title.

I shared several pictures of pastors on ladders on my Instagram stories to promote the sketch. Then, a phenomenon happened. People began sending me posts of pastors with props EVERY SINGLE DAY, so I posted them on my Instagram stories. I thought I found them all. How many prop-using pastors are there?

Little did I know.

Everyday, and mostly Sunday afternoon, someone backs up their digital dump truck to my DMs and leaves me another video or picture of a “pastor” with a prop “preaching” a “sermon.”

No one is immune, by the way. Local pastors to megachurch pastors. No following to millions of followers. Young to old.

It’s a guy chucking a football to the back of the church.

A man straddles two ladders like Jean-Claude Van Damme in that Volvo commercial.

A guy wipes a sword with a cloth. (IYKYK)

Most recently, Rich Wilkerson Jr. reenacted Moses’ need for his arms to be held up during battle (Book Chapter Verse) in what looks like a middle school production of The Promised Land: The Moses Musical.

Why?

I can’t answer that. I’m a comedian.

My Favorite Sermon Prop

Francis Chan picked up a rope in a sermon.

Pinched a piece to symbolize our life from birth to death and extended the slack to symbolize eternity. To paraphrase his point: don’t make the most of 70ish years and miss eternity. I loved it. It was poignant and powerful, and he was passionate.

It worked so well that many people picked up a rope and emulated him.

(I have to. I know. I’m sorry. I was fresh out of Bible College.)

That’s the power of analogy. You want to franchise it.

Honorable mention of sermon prop usage goes to Robert Madu.

At a conference I attended, he came onstage with a bottle in a brown bag and told us he was addicted to what was in it.

“After I preached onstage or posted online, I would take a sip.”
Once again, this is a paraphrase.

He pointed out several other moments that made him take a sip, and then he removed the bottle from the bag to reveal that it was not alcohol but apple juice with a piece of white tape with the word APPROVAL on it.

APPLAUSE BREAK

(I may or may not have also used this as a prop in a sermon in my twenties, but there is no footage, and all the eyewitnesses have signed NDAs.)

ANOTHER TITLE

With the advent of social media, one thing is certain: if another pastor or church did it, then others will, too.

There is no such thing as IP in the Christian space.

Was it meaningful when Robert Madu sipped from a brown bag at a conference with 5,000+ youth pastors? Yes.

Was it still meaningful when I bumbled through copying him for a Wednesday night youth service with 30ish students? Not really

Was it cool when Francis Chan pulled out a rope? Yes.

Was it still cool when you saw another dude on stage a decade later pull out a rope? Nah.

I don’t know who preached on a ladder first, maybe the Apostle Paul.

Right now? The audience, the analogy, and the ladder are all exhausted.

WRITING

I started writing funny things a few years ago, and since then, it’s taken me down the torture chamber of trying to be funnier.

Finding funny. Finding the funny in something unfunny. Finding another funny thing to go along with the other funny thing that I thought was funny in 2017.

(I cannot recommend a career in comedy to those with sound minds.)

Those last few sentences were intended to prove my writing abilities. I know they didn’t work, but please respect my attempt.

Prop usage in sermons is just bad writing.

If I tell you to imagine a plane, you can see a plane in your mind; if I have to bring a toy plane from my son’s room onstage to make my point about a plane, then maybe I’m not ready to make plane analogies.

“This is a ladder. Everybody say ‘Ladder!’”

“Ladder”

“Ladder”

“Ladder”

Shut up.

We know what a ladder is, and we understand how ladders work.

I could go on and on, but since this is a newsletter, I can’t use props to drive my point home.

Jesus used short, simple stories.

“A farmer went out to sow…”

Did He reach into His tunic pocket and grab a handful of seeds? Maybe.

“A man had two sons...”

Did He ask three guys to “Hop up onstage real quick?” Probably.

“The kingdom of heaven is like a net...”

Did two interns wearing all black with headsets emerge from backstage with a huge commercial-grade fishing net? I hope so.

In Conclusion

We need more props.

If you’re speaking at a church, pick up a random item and compare it to something Jesus-y. Preferably, plan this with as little time as possible before you go on stage. Don’t let theology or Biblical truth get in the way.

Commit.

Wear a Kansas City Chiefs jersey for Super Bowl Sunday,

drag a huge cross onstage at Easter,

and rent 28 camels for your Christmas Eve message.

Babies need milk, and I need content.

Shama