Scarlet Robe Creations

A Soldier Pierces Christ’s Side - James Tissot Blood and water flowing from the river of the temple. Lambs of the slaughter. Passover calls to the children. Pray as they did once, when Egypt was their prison. Now, to pray in the temple of God. Blood and water flowing from the heart of the temple. Sacrifice of the one lamb. The offering from creator to created. They pray as they will, forever freed from the bonds of every sin forgiven. copyright 2026 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author https://www.goodreads.com

  The road the trail came out to, looked to be unmaintained.   Sun baked weeds reached up through the cracked pavement, where they wilted, tasting the fate of their endeavor.   The surface of the lane was crumbling, and crawling vines stretched out from the shoulders, hoping to reach the other side before being died by the sun.   To the right the ribbon of blacktop went downhill toward a landscape occupied by other travelers.   To the left the road inclined.   There were houses along the climb, old and decayed, begging for new life, and a large grove of trees near the crest of the ascent. “Come with us.” There were three others, two men and a woman.   Lucas was the one who spoke.   It would be him that would utter the invitation.   The others didn’t seem to have permission to speak.   I had met the three of them along the trail.   Lucas couldn’t say enough about the things he owned, the places he’d been, and the things he’d acco...

Thorns and thistles, a curse upon the soil, laboring for sustenance. Thorns and thistles, the consequence of a relationship, broken, between the creator and the created. Thorns and thistles, futility of rejection, a hinderance to the life promised. Thorns and thistles, He takes the curse upon His flesh. We are ransomed. Thorns and thistles, a sign of mercy, a helmet of mockery, love bleeds on a cross for our sins. copyright 2026 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author https://www.goodreads.com

"You say that you are spiritual." The statement is spoken by a young woman, a college student, with light brown hair, green eyes and petite features.  She is dressed plainly, a blouse and jeans.  She wears a silver cross around her neck. "I don't adhere to any particular faith... or religion." The response comes with a haughty air of confidence.  The second woman is older, by ten, maybe twelve years.  She is tall and thin.  She has a piercing in her eyebrow and a star tattooed on the back of each hand. "It's foolishness, you know," she continues. "I know that there is something more than what we have here... in this life.  I know that I'm a good person.  So, there is no need for me to submit to the rites of religion." "You're open to anything." the college student states, warming her hands on her mug of hot coffee.  Her comment is not a compliment, but a statement of concern. The older woman responds, after taking a sip ...

Return of the Prodigal Son - Pompeo Batoni - 1773 Thank you for standing in the field with arms opened wide, when I return from my rebellion.   Thank you for the embrace I do not deserve and Your willingness to see beyond my protests.   I tend to think, at times, that I can walk this path alone. So, I take a few steps closer to the edge before realizing my trail leads to folly.   Thank you for loving me with a love I cannot comprehend. Thank you for calling me Your son, or Your daughter, when I am no more than a slave. copyright 2025 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Feast in the house of Simon the Pharisee by Rubens, c. 1618 Why am I asked the question.  A parable about debts.  Certainly, the man who owes a greater amount will be all that much more grateful to have a loan forgiven.  But the spectacle at the table, kneeling on the floor, crying, how does this relate to transactions of coin? You have judged correctly. Was this a test of some sort.  Do I need to be tested.  The woman, God knows what she is.  Is that the debt he refers to.  He is a prophet.  Does he not know that this is a woman who sells her flesh.  She defiles the temple of her body.  Yet he looks at her with deep compassion and looks at me like I am a student who requires to be taught a simple lesson. Simon, do you see this woman?  You have judged her to be unclean. You have walked on a separate side of the street, so that you would not pass her and fall unto the same judgement. Simon, when I came to your house my feet were dust...

Happy are those whose sins are forgiven,      whose wrongs are pardoned. Psalm 32:1    Happiness, for sins forgiven, a pardon from my Lord. I shout with praise. He does not accuse me of that which I have confessed. When I lived in my shame I was separate from my soul. Drained of my tears and strength my joy was nothing more than embers fading in the shadows. Then I knelt before God. I confessed the darkness He refused to see. For it is my soul laboring in sin not the sight of the Lord. Happiness, for my sins are forgiven. I will follow Him where paths are straight, fields are plowed and the harvest is rich. copyright 2017 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

On one of the days while Jesus was teaching, some proud religious law-keepers and teachers of the Law were sitting by Him. They had come from every town in the countries of Galilee and Judea and from Jerusalem. The power of the Lord was there to heal them.  Some men took a man who was not able to move his body to Jesus. He was carried on a bed. They looked for a way to take the man into the house where Jesus was.  But they could not find a way to take him in because of so many people. They made a hole in the roof over where Jesus stood. Then they let the bed with the sick man on it down before Jesus.  When Jesus saw their faith, He said to the man, “Friend, your sins are forgiven.” Luke 5:17-20  A hole began to form overhead, in the roof.  We heard footsteps scampering overhead.  The Teacher paused, no longer speaking as pieces of the ceiling fell to the floor at our feet.  Even the keepers of the law, who had no sincere interes...

I do not deserve the grace You pour out on me. I do not deserve the light bringing me in from the shadows. I do not deserve the echo of Your whisper in my ear. I do not deserve a single splinter from the wood of Your cross. I do not deserve the thorns pressed into Your scalp. I do not deserve the bread You offer, or the wine. I do not deserve to be served at Your table. I do not deserve forgiveness for any weak addictions. I do not deserve Your peace or Your love. I do not deserve the blood You have washed me in. What do I deserve for cursing You, for turning my back on hope and celebrating vices? What do I deserve for striding through dark alleys, purposely staying out of the light, and pushing You away for the moment? Am I not Cain? Am I not the multitudes laughing at Noah? Am I not the chosen being led off into slavery? And still... You extend Your arms to embrace all that I have defiled. You have washed the mud from my face and...

The ethics I find difficult to apply to my life, I apply to my neighbors a hundred fold. I speak slander with my tongue against another's adherence to the law and I condemn my soul to the same judgement. How foolish I can be, rationalizing my guilt, while asking that my debts be wiped clean. All the while having not cleansed my heart of the trespasses against me. I ask the Father to forgive in the same fashion I forgive, as unforgiving as I can be. I have much work to do. My heart can be like stone, when it should be of flesh and emblazoned with forgiveness. copyright 2017 - Donald P James Jr  https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author From the Collection;  The Sermon

I trespass, stepping over a line drawn in the sand. Some prophets of this day have spread their ideals like wind through the grains and the boundaries are less clear. Do I seek excuses, stepping barefoot into sand I should never feel? Is the experience worth the loss? I trespass into a world seemingly pleasant and then, I long for the simplicity I once held tightly in my heart. Father in heaven, be kind to me when I return, a wanderer, a prodigal. Hold not my debts against me and help my heart to forgive all that scars its flesh. copyright 2017 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Zurbaran - Lamb of God Lamb of God, offered in ransom for my soul, in place of my flesh, submitting Yourself to an agonizing death, nails, thorns, thirst, suffocation, so I might find Your father's forgiveness. You are not a burnt offering on the altars of heathens. You are flesh and blood on a cross of wood, a tree fashioned by unbelievers, erected on a hill outside the walls of Your holy city. Lamb of God, You take all hatred onto Your tortured body. A thorn for every vice, a spike for a thousand different sins. You absorb the gossip and slander of the world. You embrace the forsaken and the hopeless. You forgive every betrayal and denial, that we might draw toward You. Lamb offered in my place do not count the days of my desperate ploys to be Pilate, Judas, Caiaphas, rather remember the few moments when I have cried at Your feet, listened to Your sermons, or waved branches in the street. copyright 2017 - Donald P James Jr https:...