Scarlet Robe Creations

The insistent knocking on the door continues and we don't wish to answer. "Feed me when I am Hungry," "Clothe me when I am naked," "Shelter me when I am homeless," The world calls out for nourishment and we respond for only political gain. copyright 2017 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

When Jesus looked up he saw some wealthy people putting their offerings into the treasury and he noticed a poor widow putting in two small coins. He said, “I tell you truly, this poor widow put in more than all the rest; for those others have all made offerings from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has offered her whole livelihood.” Luke 21:1-4 Life had always been hard, but it had become so much more difficult since the death of her husband.  She herself was moving on in age, still she made the trek to the temple treasury to offer her pitiful amount.  She had two small copper coins in her hand.  She rubbed them together.  They were smoothed from friction and not worth much, but they were all she possessed at the moment.  She prayed God would provide, even a crust of bread, in the coming days. When she entered the room for offerings she took note of a cluster of younger men across the way.  They looked to be men who had journe...

We shall live! Dance on the white washed bones of those who preached otherwise. The Nazarene has embraced the Ragamuffins, promised them the spirit of holiness and fishing nets full of men saved from the pious voices condemning them of their sins We shall live! Persecution makes every effort to break the soul. But we stand with blemishes faded. God's promised covenant washes Ragamuffins of all their stains. We are those who begged  in the streets, defiled our temples of flesh, before being bathed by His blood. copyright 2016 - Donald P James Jr  https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Originally Submitted to https://christianwriters.com/ You are the audience which pays me for tricks. Have you not heard of my reputation? I can perform whatever it is that you ask. But I prefer that you listen to what I say and pay little attention to what I do. My words, print on paper mean so much more than the blind gaining sight. You seek physical manifestations while I wait for your spiritual acceptance. There is no miracle greater than my thoughts. So don't expect me to stand on a stage and make the paralytic walk. Don't expect me to come down from my cross with my wounds healed. It is not your body that I come seeking to embrace, but your heart. copyright 2016 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

They cheated those people, they who see themselves as justified. Once they were kings and Pharisees controlling the poor and uneducated with superstitions, rituals and laws. Today they are politicians with vile serpent like tongues and tempting lies. They cheated those people in the Messiah's day as in the present. Convincing the underclass of society that they lack value compared to those who forge decrees and interpret doctrine for their own use. Today we divide by origin, or shade of flesh. We stand for this truth or that fallacy, always right and never wrong. Remember always, He came for the abused, He came for the overburdened, He came for those humbled by a diseased culture. He came for those who did not expect Him to look in their direction. And the pious, the cheaters, could do nothing but watch. copyright 2016 - Donald P James Jr  https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

In the Church, His spirit dwells not in the stone, wood, or stained glass. He is not an icon in the temple kept behind the veil. He is not controlled by our boundaries or doctrine, despite the parables we preach. He is in the parking lot of the supermarket, the main street of a borough, the sidewalk of a slum, waiting to be encountered. He is untethered from our expectations. He is more than our simplistic views can comprehend. In the true church, wherever His people gather. In flowering meadows, cragged mountain tops, or littered back alleys, He is present. The air does breathe His name and the songs, no matter how imperfect, move the heart of the almighty. copyright 2016 - Donald P James Jr  https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

At first I rose up out of the dust of creation, and I chose the thrill of temptation over the love of my creator. I chose to turn in the direction of my choice. To form my own meanings for my existence. I chose to eat the fruit of my desire, and by choice I left the house of creation. It was then, after the garden of my peace was a distant memory, as I watched the struggle of my offspring, to find their meaning, that I directed myself toward my father's home. I set off in search of his love only I'd forgotten who he was. I looked to the sun high in the sky, full of warmth and brightness, and mistook the caress of its light as love. But when I made my plea for deepening kinship the sun vanished into the clouds. When I asked it to protect me with its light it fell victim to the darkness.    Then I sought the solace of the moon. The strengthening hope in my fear of the night. The gentle spirit ...

Who views our anguished soul when we lie cowering in shadows of despair? When we cannot stand before the reflection of what we are, or who we've become.   Who views our anguished soul when we feel unworthy to pray? When we feel that life has taken the best we had to give and left us abused in its wake.   Who views our anguished soul from the wooden scaffolding of any other creed? Who stretched out His arms to embrace all our sins? Who allowed His hands to be nailed in place so that we might be saved? copyright 2016 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author