Scarlet Robe Creations

"Are you one of them?" I asked the stranger. He didn't give an immediate answer.  He came closer and asked, "Of who do you speak?" "Well, friend, your accent gives you away, and you are dressed like them.  I just made the assumption that you were in league with that party of wanderers who passed through just a short while ago.  If it is not so, sit down, kick the dust off your sandals.  The people of this village can be quite hospitable to newcomers when we are of the same mind." "Who were these wanderers?" the stranger said as he took a seat beside me on the stone wall. "Just a bunch of righteous fools.  You know how they think they are so much better than us.  You know, I heard that in a local town, one of them had a long talk with a woman who is of questionable morals... even by my standards." "A woman?" the stranger asked. "You got it, a woman.  Heard she's had herself three maybe four husbands.  I wonder, jus...

Christ and the Sinner - Andrey Mironov Ponder for a moment, when a sinner comes to the table, sobbing on the feet of He who forgives. But who among the guests has more to repent, the harlot who seeks Jesus, or the Pharisee who questions His truth? Ponder for a moment, mercy bestowed in a hand's touch. She rises unblemished, to sin no more. While the invited, who shed not a single tear, fail to understand what has been given, simply for asking. copyright 2026 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author https://www.goodreads.com

How eager are they, gathered in fields yearning to hear His voice, soothing to their strife, peaceful in their hectic days. How blessed are they in the courtyard, standing in the crowd, engrossed in words made flesh with a heart that bleeds. How sacred are those, speaking sonnets of love on bended knees, walking roads glorified by grace, seeking mercy for others. How eager are they, planted in good soil, who first repeated His words to the peoples of covenant, those who never knew they were loved. copyright 2026 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author https://www.goodreads.com

Ordaining of the Twelve Apostles - James Tissot That they might stand beside Him, dusty sandals and ragged clothes, coming to village and town, not as royalty, but as paupers. That they might walk the same road, when the day bakes the flesh the night chills, and when all is done, rest their weary bodies on stone. That they might sit at table breaking bread, in the company of each other, or gather in fields with thousands of His Father's children, sharing loaves and fish. That they might share what they've learned, wherever led, whether persecuted or embraced, among those who don't know. That they might heal broken spirits and bodies, what man cannot even touch with his eyes, his hands, or his heart. That they might be stronger than demons and not be corrupted by deceit, not led to acts of betrayal, or denial, not tempted by the sin of power, or the iniquity of pride. copyright 2026 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author https://www.good...

Just a parable of sorts... "Where are we going?" the boy asked. His question was directed to the young man, walking a stride ahead of him, who led the way along the winding path. The meandering trail wound through green meadows, full of wildflowers of various colors.  The floral ornamentation decorated both sides of the divide.  There was no other details, no scars of mankind. "This way," the young man replied, pointing in the direction they were heading, toward the horizon. "Where did we come from?" It was a question the boy had been pondering.  Just another question, but this one was formed by his mouth and spoken out loud.  Perhaps asking a question about the clover or the buttercups might have been suitable.  But some questions just need to be spilt out. The young man stopped, patiently contemplating the words uttered by the boy.  The young man was thin, not very muscular.  To the boy he appeared to be a gymnast, or  perhaps a marionette, all ...

Condemnation, the verdict of a judge with authority, acknowledged only upon the soil of this earth, not in the promised kingdom. A judgement cast on He who judges eternity. Pawn of this world, the power of political favor rests in your words. You are propped up by the strength of tainted ideals, unaware of the wounds on your soul. Before you is the one. Even the pompous Pharisees know this truth. They ignore what you've never known. They take advantage of your ignorance, to lay blame on you and your kind at their day of judgement. Condemnation, His day will offer mercy. He will forgive the most wretched, embrace the most vile. If only they leave the pride of today behind and seek the meekness of eternity. copyright 2026 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author https://www.goodreads.com

Come to the table, you whose hands are stained by sin, you whose heart is hardened by failure, you whose spirit is empty and void. Come, He beckons you to sit. Come to the table, you who are paupers you who have no pillow to rest their heads, you who have sold the flesh of your temple. Come, He beckons you to dine. Come to the table, all who label doubt their faith, all who are torn by denomination, all who would never ask for a morsel. Come, the table is set for you. copyright 2026 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author https://www.goodreads.com

My heart longs to walk in a field among the glories of the eternal. I wish to hear the words spoken that I've read and heard before. The words absorbed by the poor in spirit. The words embraced by the merciful. My soul longs to sit in the company of those invited to a feast of bread and fish. A sign for those who seek miracles. A stirring of the heart for those who ache for God. A joyful dance for those who have been promised life. My heart longs for He who is mercy to extend His holy hand that I might take what is offered, deserving nothing of my own accord, given salvation only by His will. copyright 2026 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author https://www.goodreads.com

Father, I speak humbly. I speak without the colors of pride. I push aside all that leads to sin, and for moment, while the world is held at bay, I endeavor to hear you. Father, I am weak. I speak from my knees with a seeker's heart. I struggle to focus when my soul is troubled and my thoughts become jumbled amid my distress. Father, my words are few, somedays. I know not what I am to offer. I have nothing worthy of a temple's flame nor do I have purity of heart and mind. Father, today my knees ache and my mind is weary. My petitions are rarely changed. I cherish the gifts you have bestowed on me and ponder the days to come. Father, have mercy on my floundering soul. I am a wretched vagabond an exile of your creation. Look on me with kindness when like the prodigal son I return. copyright 2026 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author https://www.goodreads.com