Scarlet Robe Creations

"This is where I will build it," the tall, slender man said to the seller of the parcel. "Twenty five acres of God's beautiful creation.  It's breathtaking.  Don't you think?" "A chapel," the seller replied. "You said something about a chapel." "A barn, a stable, a place where Jesus will feel welcome." "Like a church?" "Not at all.  The building I will construct on this land will be nothing like a church.  It will not be labeled by denomination.  It will be labeled by faith.  That faith will be this, that you believe that he came as a child.  He fulfilled ancient scripture.  He walked among the people.  He taught them about His father.  He was nailed to a crude cross, because His father willed it.  He was laid in a tomb with a boulder rolled in front of the entrance, and He rose on the third day.  There will be no room for egos in this church.  No dark corners where piousness can thrive." "But don...

Embattled denominations, tearing apart the precious body of our savior. Laws of man, apart from God's word, twisted by politics and the quest for filled pews. One phrase, one word, and one religion is saved, while another is doomed. Jesus taught to seek Him, not the laws of men, the glory of modern Pharisees, or the virtue of politics. copyright 2025 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

She was a bit young for ministry.  She wondered if that was how the congregation thought.  But she was here because of circumstances beyond her control.  The church was small.  She'd grown up in it and had now returned.  She sat back and listened to the small choir sing out, 'The Church is One Foundation', and considered her place within these walls. There'd been a thought running around in her head the last few days.  She managed to get a grasp on it last night during prayer.  She jotted down a few notes and brushed them up while eating a piece of toast before service.  She was nervous and knew it showed in her voice, when she gave a morning blessing to those in attendance. The Gospel reading had been from the Book of John, Chapter 2, verses 13 to 22.  She read God's word as put on parchment by the apostle.  After reading the passages last night she pondered arguments of religious men as to who wrote the Gospel.  She believed the w...

“You know I’m broken,” she says.   He nods, understanding her need to continue her story without interruption.   “I’ve never been loved.   Not a real love.   I’ve been used.   People have said they loved me, but they always wanted something in return.   That’s the way it is with love… right?   It’s never free.”   “You think there’s a monetary price?” He asks.   She pauses for a moment, but responds before he can fill the void. “No not monetary.   Sometimes I wish that’s all that was involved, money.   Sometimes the price is pain, emotional, physical.   Sometimes there is humiliation.   I’ve been stripped, I bear my soul… and then I’m tossed out like the trash.”   “That isn’t love.”   “They call it love.”   “Just saying,” he adds.   “My mother called it love.”   “But do you think it was love?” He asks.   “I wanted her to love me.   She told me once she considered abortion.   I feel so...

Charles T, as everyone at the shelter called him, sat on the small patch of grass across the street from the First Congregational church.  Behind him loomed an attorney’s office, closed as it was on every Sunday.  From his pocket he removed a tiny book, a small green covered Gideons Bible containing the New Testament, Psalms and Proverbs.  The handout had been given by a local church at a soup kitchen where he spent the previous Easter.   A bell in the church tower rang out, telling the world that prayer was to begin.   Ten o’clock, Charles T thumbed through his favored possession and stopped at John’s gospel, chapter 1, verse 35.   Inside the church the congregation would be singing.   He wondered which hymn they would start with this morning.   He thought it interesting how different denominations might sing the same songs with slightly different lyrics.   He hummed ‘Amazing Grace’ to himself, since it was his favorite.   “...

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...

They try to define You as their own, but none have that right. They color You in every shade but that which You really are. They give You human morals when ours are so flawed. And they hang You in buildings which speak more to their achievements than Yours. The shepherds have gone to sleep and left the sheep alone in the wilderness.   copyright 2021 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

Gather in His name In places of low esteem and high. He hears your song as clearly on street corners as on mountain tops. Gather in temples or in barns set in open fields. Come rich come poor. Come saint and sinner. All will find a seat at His table. All are called to gather. To come together embracing our unity, no matter how different. Leave your skin color, leave your ethnicity, leave the voice of your land. Step free of your denomination. Release the burden of pious thought. Gather where the spirit beckons and call yourselves His beloved. copyright 2016 - Donald P James Jr  https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author