Scarlet Robe Creations

  For one brief moment, the rising sun touched the incoming clouds with glory. The eastern sky was ablaze and for a moment the world was bathed in appreciation and the love of creation. He says, "Look to me now, not when you feel you are ready." He says, "See my glory now, with opened eyes. Do not wait for the clouds that will come and cause you to turn away." For one brief moment, the rising sun touched the incoming clouds with glory. I opened my eyes and took in a glimpse of heaven. A moment later the clouds moved in. copyright 2023 - Donald P James Jr

Lift me up from the hole I have dug for myself. Give me your hand that I might cling and keep a firm grip. Hold me back when I lunge toward the fire. Keep me  where the ground is stable. Walk beside me  when storms encroach on my sandy beach. You gave when I didn't deserve. You offered what I had no right to expect. You were broken that I might be healed, spat upon that I might dine at Your table. copyright 2023 - Donald P James Jr

  Last Supper , painting by  Carl Bloch , late 19th century All that I am not, is what I should offer. What I am today does not stand up to the promise I made yesterday.   You know the trials we face, for once You were like me. Did You cringe when a Leper came too close? I know I would have. Did You want silence when the crowd needed You in their midst?   Did You ever want to leave Judas from the table? For sometimes I am he, and I ponder how he could have listened to so much wisdom and not heard. copyright 2021 - Donald P James Jr

You sit with your hands between your knees.  In another time you would have been stoned.  Instead, in this time, they simply stare.  Judgement screams out in their silence.  You don't belong here.  You don't belong among their kind.  They are the ones who have listened and heard.  They are the ones who will be harvested as the wheat. You are a weed. There is singing from the loft behind you.  As a child you would have shifted in your pew, turned and watched the singers.  Your mother would have sternly told you to turn around.  Now, you face the front of the church, if only to avoid the faces of those who knew you when you were trying to run away from God. How foolish.  How do you run away from someone who knows everything about you.  He has watched you enter the vile realms of this world and He has watched you stumble out.  He knows you have failed at love and succeeded at lust.  He knows you have sold priceless parts of your flesh and soul, for a handful of pills or a bottle.

I wrote this poem a long time ago and included it in the collection 'Pictures of the Messiah'. When I wrote this I was thinking about Jesus' visit to Bethany (Luke 10:38-42) and the idea of true hospitality. Georg Friedrich Stettner († 1639) You can rest here. After days in which your journey has been fulfilled with dust, rain and cold. Peaceful among the fragrances of this kitchen.   Speak to me. Teach me my friend. I’ll not petition you in any way. I’ll try my best to put aside my weakness and become a soft pillow for your head, which is so used to resting on stone.   I’ll come in from the yard when my work is complete. Embrace you as my brother. I’ll speak to you of my joys. The ordinary moments of life repeating themselves daily and filling me with such peace.   Be with my family as if they were your own. Share in their laughter. Quench your thirst with cool drink and ease your hunger on freshly baked breads.   I know you have much more work to do. You have cities to

  Inspired by Brennan Manning's Ragamuffin Gospel (Paste Jewelry and Sawdust Hotdogs) She walked beside her pastor through the gardens outside her church.  A late spring Sunday, and the roses were in bloom.  There were red and pink blossoms to their right.  Tiny yellow roses, and a few whites to their left.  Had she been alone she would have taken a sniff.  After all, Mac Davis did say we should 'Stop and Smell the Roses'. "I am troubled," she said.  She wasn't sure if she wanted to speak to the pastor, or the deacon.  But her pastor was here and the moment seemed right. "I desire to move closer to God in my prayer life, but I find it difficult.  Sometimes... just reciting a formulated prayer leaves me feeling empty.  I need to know how to pray... I guess." "Formulated prayer leaves you empty?" His question bit into the cool air of the morning. "Sometimes." "Prayer is not about OUR feelings," he said, before adding, &quo

The path makes you wonder, have I been down this one, or is it yet to be traveled. So many crossroads, each day, or routes that wander through different valleys. How many paths have you walked? Have we met? If we have, I hope we left with a smile and maybe a hug. If our last impression was of sadness, I hope we meet again. copyright 2023 Donald P James Jr

Father Jonathan Meyer from All Saints Parish in Guilford Indiana gave a Homily  this weekend  entitled 'Is It Possible to Have Enough?' This Homily inspired the poem below. What is enough? I have my wife, my children and their children. I have a good book, a place to sit and a warm spring afternoon. I have my mug of hot coffee. The love of my life looks at me, over the top of the book she is engrossed in. I know her thoughts. They are mine as well. We have enough.  copyright 2023 Donald P James Jr