Key Takeaways:

• The skit features Druski as a wire-suspended pastor demanding millions, parodying prosperity gospel culture.
• It critiques performative faith and luxury branding in church spaces through sharp humor.
• The video references real controversies while delivering “Christian Dior” jokes and sermons quoting rap lyrics.

Druski is back with another social media skit. This time, he targeted megachurch pastors who turn faith into a business.

The 31-year-old comedian posted the video on Monday (Jan. 12) with the caption “Mega Church Pastors LOVE Money.” The clip opens with revival-service theatrics. Druski floats above the congregation on wires as Kirk Franklin’s “Revolution” plays and a giant LED screen behind him reads “Collect & Pray Ministries” signaling exactly where the “service” is headed next.

Pushing the satire further into uncomfortable territory, Druski calls an elderly couple forward, jokes that the wife couldn't get pregnant, and tells the crowd he “impregnated her with the word of God,” adding that he plans to “impregnate everyone with the word of God.” He then pivots to the prosperity aesthetic, listing his luxury fit before flipping his foot to show red-bottom soles. “People ask me why I’m wearing Christian Dior and Christian Louboutin,” he says. “It’s because I’m a Christian… and I walk in the blood of Jesus.”

The sketch’s sharpest critique came with Druski demands $4 million for an unspecified project in Zimbabwe and tells the room that nobody could leave until the church hit the daily goal. He praises a parishioner for donating his “life savings,” then quotes rapper Real Boston Richey and calls him an apostle, mocking the way some pulpits borrow rap language to sound current. The skit then cuts backstage, where he count stacks of cash, kisses the money and smiles toward the ceiling.

The final beat landed with a sting: A man approached the pastor’s Bentley to request prayer for his wife. Druski asks if he tithed, heard “no” and drove off, spitting his gum out of the window at him.

The parody was a clear nod to real megachurch scrutiny. This likely included backlash over notable pastors who pushed for private jet donations, went viral over fashion debates, created awkward offering moments and delivered sermons that borrowed rap lyrics to reach younger congregations.