Scarlet Robe Creations

They long to come in from the darkness, those who knock on the door, those he does not know, those who were not prepared. They waited with those who kept their lamps lit, the ones who kept their hearts focused, the ones who warned them, the ones who were prepared. They were elsewhere in body and spirit when the father sent the son. They sought pleasure in the here and now, rather than in eternity. We long to come in from the darkness, now, before the time is late, now, before we have neglected the oil, now, before we are left knocking. copyright 2025 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Spoken into being, the utterance of a word. Light becomes light, and darkness has no hold. Day and night, the first word. Separated, water from water, a dome, the sky. Pleased in the evening, the second word. Gathered waters, make place for rock and soil. A whispered breath bears fruit. The sower of creation, the third word. Then there were lights, greater and lesser, to light the day, mark seasons, days and years, the fourth word. Life filled the seas. Birds took to the sky. Every creature, large and small, filling creation with life, the fifth word. Every beast of the land, wild and domestic, to cover creation. Then the image of the creator, given breath, the sixth word. Universe created, a finished task, a time to set down tools, to focus on worship, and to rest, the seventh word. copyright 2025 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Jerusalem - James Tissot How beautiful, the temple. Built to honor Yahweh, by a people, any people, all who would lower their heads in prayer one moment, and cheat their brother the next. How frightening, not a single stone laid to rest on another. Signs of destruction on every horizon. A people led off as slaves without a home, without a building of stone to offer homage. How beautiful, a faith needing no structure, a faith needing only a word, printed on the heart. How beautiful, a faith without boundaries, where the heathen are welcomed, and the pious are unmasked. copyright 2025 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

  The Charge to Peter - James Tissot The rock. Jesus has built His church on the faith of one who will deny. The foundation is a fisherman, a man once ruled by the sea, a man of strength, a man of humility, a man who will sob when the rooster crows with the sunrise. A stronghold. A man whose words  are often rewarded and chastised. A man who will draw a sword to defend, and cower in an upper room. A man who will feed the sheep despite his humanness. A man who the Spirit will fill with conviction. A man who will be the reflection of the Lord's church. copyright 2025 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

"Each morning, you are given a choice," the reverend says after moving to the side of the pulpit. He wears black slacks and a dark gray shirt.  His collar is open and his reading glasses rest on the bridge of his nose.  His brown hair has the tendency to always look uncombed, whether it be Sunday morning at the pulpit, or Friday night at the local high school's basketball game. Once he stood behind the ornate piece of wood as if it protected him from some worldly judgement.  In those days he wasn't as confident in his ability to pastor a flock.  Now he often seeks a position of deeper intimacy with those who step through the doors of their Father's Home. "Every morning," he continues. "You and I we have a choice.  Now you know I'm not talking about breakfast.  About whether to have coffee or tea, cereal or eggs.  That is a choice that nourishes your body.  I'm speaking about... you guessed it... your soul.  We have doctors out there to addre...

  Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send.' Isaiah 6:8 Hineni. Coming before, complete presence, spiritually and in body. Called to be as Samuel, to go to any ghetto, war torn society, a church, a commuter train, or a college campus? Hineni. An intimate response, whether sought in darkness of night, or light of day. A prophet, a martyr, responds, knowing he could become like Stephen. copyright 2025 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Praise, when my head is lowered, a request in my heart, and an insistent plea on my lips. Praise, from the beginning, before the first syllable of the prayer is spoken. Praise, for what has been received, what will be received, and what will be retained for the Kingdom. copyright 2025 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Twelve. Those who walked in sandals, tattered, over dust and stone. A betrayer among them. A denier as well. One would die by his own hand, spilling his ransom like blood. Another would weep when the rooster crowed, and a time of emptiness was ushered in. Ten who stood in a room, afraid of every shadow, yet to witness the failure of death to gain victory, unsure in their hearts what the women had seen. One, absent, whose doubt caused him to touch, to impale his fingers in the wounds, before embracing faith. Twelve. Those who had tossed nets where they were directed, into an empty sea. Those who collected twelve baskets of bread and fish, after five loaves and two fish had nourished the masses. Those who had seen the blind see, the lame walk, sores heal, a prostitute sob. copyright 2025 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

For those who have read 'Afternoons With Mister D', the story below uses two of the characters introduced in the story. For those of you who have not, consider picking up a copy on Amazon. This novel is available in both print and kindle formats. Afternoons With Mister D Alice fixed herself a mug of coffee.  A quick glance at the kitchen clock told her it was a few minutes before six. "You're up early," she said, speaking to her niece. "For a Saturday." A slight shoulder shrug was followed by a mumbled response, "I couldn't sleep." Three and a half months had passed since Alexandra moved in.  The seventeen year old had transferred over to the local high school, but in the time since arriving at the bus station, she hadn't developed a single friendship.  Except perhaps, Mrs. Halworth the next door neighbor. It was a chilly December morning.  There'd been a hard frost the night before.  Alice could see its veil, in the early light, on...