Scarlet Robe Creations

This poem was inspired by three verses of the Bible and a sermon by Dr Charles Stanley. Romans 8:28, Ezra 8:22 and Ecclesiastes 8:12 It's difficult to see the hand of God in our trials. We say, there is no good outcome as we immerse ourselves in hardship, watching storm clouds build on the horizon. His hand is upon life and death. His hand commands the thunder, lightning and wind, for there is no power greater. We stand in the face of wars, evil and righteous. Blessed men die, innocence is ravaged and the cruel seem victorious in the moment. We watch nature's rage over land and sea. The cosmos speak of violent revelations and we fear the days to come. We cry out for His caress when our hearts are closed. We call on His name to heal the strife without praising the blessings. Trust, that His hand holds the one who loves Him, the one who's heart embraces His word, the one who has been called and answers. copyright 2018

He is the rare jewel, stumbled upon by those who were not searching. Some never thinking to seek Him before hearing His name, praised by the crowd. Many claim knowledge and know little. They do not call Him Lord, or Savior. He is a man in their hearts, a prophet, maybe. He is a rebel who died, that many might live. Caiaphas knew not the truth of his words. The uncircumcised, the unwashed, who themselves have deserts still to wander, find in their midst a pearl never deserved. Yet He spreads out his hands seeking those who have never thought to ask and has been found by those who never felt deserving enough to look. copyright 2018 - Donald P James Jr

Vincent van Gogh - Old Man in Sorrow Sorrow to eat, bread of tears. We accuse You of laying upon us every act of suffering we endure, when we alone are the cause of our demise. We beg You to save us from Your wrath, when it is our own foolishness we need rescue from. We ask You to give example, to show us Your strength. Where is our faith? Embers of a trust we have placed conditions upon. Lord, if You do give us sorrow and tears, give us also joy when we step into the light of salvation. copyright 2018 - Donald P James Jr

Hear me Lord, I meditate, I pray. Ponder the supplications of my heart. Listen to the words of my plea. You are my King, my God. You are the aching in my soul. I will direct my prayer to You, my God who has no pleasure in wickedness, holy is Your dwelling. Lead me in the path of Your righteousness. Show my eyes Your ways and protect me with Your shield. copyright 2018 - Donald P James Jr

Follow me. The words catch the Pharisees and scribes, gathered to judge, by surprise. There are those who have spoken in hushed corners about this man. The leaders of the faith considered him no different than the others, until those praising his work stepped out into the light. Follow me. He had spoken these words to fishermen, tradesmen of a simple nature. The uneducated are moved by emotion and not knowledge. They are taught to rebel against their lot in life. They are immersed in the mire of existence and see not its wealth. Follow me. For what purpose does one stand up in his dusty sandals and walk in the steps of a wanderer, one who sleeps on stones. Do they have any idea where he will lead them? Will he take them to a life better than the one they have today? Follow me. Sinners, cast out by the law, who have never before glanced an eye toward God, without quickly looking away. They know they are unworthy. They make a slander of the righteous by thei

Come, witness a miracle. Water turned into wine and each guest at a beautiful wedding tastes the sweetness of the grapes. Wine that sings of joy, for the moment is filled with joy. Come, witness a miracle. Two who love, and promise to love. Two who's flesh tingles for the warmth of each other. Embracing a dream, embracing a trust, embracing a friend with whom each fiber of life desires to be shared. copyright 1992 - Donald P James Jr 

Snow, last night, doesn't quite cover the scars of the world. The dusting softens the hardness of reality, for a moment, brief. We walk on our journeys, hoping the direction is pure, but the world bleeds through the thin layer of promises made in this life. January is always waiting for spring, just as February will agonize for color and warmth, death and life. I pray that the path beneath my stride is the chosen one, despite my constant rebellion. I have been lost and found, cold and warm. I am the stranger walking on a seldom traveled road, in the evening's light snow. A lacy veil barely covering the scars of the world. copyright 2018 - Donald P James Jr

A Poem from a collection never completed titled  'A Winter Soul'.     Three followed a star, in sojourn, before I was able to develop my own thought. By stars of heaven over Middle Eastern sand. Lights that guide seekers when they wander empty. War rages where faith was born. As it always has and always will. I decorate, I sing carols, I watch a tree’s reflection in the window pane and hope to see the same star as the one followed by the three. copyright 2007 - Donald P James Jr   

A kingdom restored in the line of David, a promise, bringing all peoples to the throne of God. Be of the chosen and not the rejected. Be of those who say, "Your God is my God," not those who worship falsehoods. God has insured that the holy lineage survives, from Abraham to David, from David to Jesus. He calls for a day just like today, when David's kingdom will stand and God's voice will be heard. copyright 2018 - Donald P James Jr