Scarlet Robe Creations

Did we know it would be grace, or did we expect a sword? Did we understand blood would be shed in victory, not in defeat?   Prophets spoke and we interpret their words as traditions and dogmas.   But grace won the victory, as blind as we were, without raising a hand to defend His words.   Did we know it would be grace, which would rule a kingdom never the spoil of battle? Did we expect a war to be fought by love? copyright 2024 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

He stood at the tombstone, reading the epitaph, the dates of birth and death chiseled into the stone.  The deceased held a secure place in his heart.  He could still feel her embrace and if he dwelled on her breath stealing grip, emotion threatened to engulf him.  He wouldn’t cry.  He’d done enough of that.  His paper thin heart ached, but tears accomplished nothing.  He didn’t believe the pain of loss was going to fade anytime soon. Blessed are they who mourn. He was mourning now.  He didn’t feel blessed. “I remember how soft her hands were when she would touch my face,” the young girl to his right said. “Even when she was sick and her final days were near.  Her hands were still soft.”  He didn’t respond to her or even acknowledge she had spoken.  Instead, he thought of those last days in silence.  The knife in his heart twisted. Blessed are they who mourn. How could this sadness be a blessing?  The old lady wh...

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 https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

But there is one light which shines through any darkness, one beacon guiding the way through any storm. You say doubt fills your heart and He says, “Come the lame are healed, the blind see and the poor have heard the Good News.” But there is one Bread which nourishes your soul, one grain of wheat broken, that all may be made whole. You say you’ve lost trust in a deceitful world, and He says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled, believe in me.” And there is one Lamb, one sacrifice for all sin, one without blemish washing you clean in His blood. copyright 2019 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

You open a door when I ask to see the other side and I, a frightened child, hesitate to enter. If access were not for me to gain I am sure You would have closed off the route or made it difficult for me to traverse the threshold I ask for guidance and when Your touch is obvious I still tend to doubt myself. Hold open the door long enough for me to enter and bathe me in Your grace despite my uncertainties. copyright 2018 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Come broken, sing the songs reserved for the holy. The diseased offer praise when their wounds are scabbed over. Come empty, fill your stomach on morsels, crumbs given and thrown out, blessed by the blood of the Son. Come lonely, your streets are filled with those who seek. Listen for the whispering prophets in garbage laden alleys. Come sinner, do not condemn yourself any longer. The harlot has been made pure and the thief witnesses paradise. Copyright 2017 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others,  as faithful stewards of God's grace in its various forms. 1 Peter 4:10 Gifts, God's design through us, words we see as insignificant, talents we see as insufficient. Gifts, God's daily grace in our lives, of His creation, not ours. Gifts, His prayer through us to a people in need, never ours through Him. Gifts, love that serves the servants, bringing no glory to the giver, but only to God. 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:...

Touch and heal all that ails. Cleanse all that stains your soul. He has offered His pain, His blood and His life on this earth. You are white as snow because He bled. A woman comes from the crowd, reaching for the hem of His dusty garment. A man asks for His sight. A prostitute washes His feet in the house of Simon. A leper can reach out for others and the voiceless can speak of miraculous events unfolding. Touch with faith coursing through your heart. He will not deny those who reach with hands and voices. Hearts overflowing with belief, a grip that will not let go. A touch crushing sin and soothing us with grace. copyright 2017 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

His grace is sufficient, when we are imprisoned by trials unable to see the value in our pain. His grace is the answer received, a beacon in the darkness with purpose beyond my limited wisdom. His grace is the guiding hand which leads me through the valley, calms my fear and eases my doubt. His grace is the whispered voice on the breeze, telling me to trust despite my reservations, telling me to have faith despite my doubt. His grace is sufficient, when I am losing the battle and I have endured the struggles of my own doing. copyright 2016 - Donald P James Jr  https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

The tender hug of a small child. The warm hand of your spouse, in yours. A softly picked melody on a guitar. Gentle laughter carrying across the breeze. A murmured prayer of thanks. Glistening sun on the face of a lake. The rush of a mountain river in Spring. Two bunnies playing on the front lawn. The first red tomato of Summer. Crisp Autumn air and an unblemished sky of blue. Light rain on the porch roof. The sunset at the end of a Spring day. A hymn sung sweetly in a tiny chapel. A wave crashing on a sandy beach. A cluster of Tiger Lilies along the road side. A white tailed deer eating apples from a tree. The view from the summit of a mountain. A worn trail in the deep woods. A soaring hawk against an overcast sky. Flannel sheets on a cold Winter's night. Gathering at table with those considered precious. A church bell calling us to prayer. copyright 2016 - Donald P James Jr https://www.a...

Come, you who have never felt righteous enough to seek me. Come, you who have covered your hearts in filthy layers of sin. Come, you who have nothing to offer in return. Come, you who have been cast out by the hour's religion. Come, you who struggle with the burdens laid upon your shoulders. Come, in your desperation to be loved. copyright 2016 - Donald P James Jr  https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

They throw a robe over His shoulders, these soldiers of a foreign creed. He does not defend Himself when they spit and swear. They crown Him with thorns of mockery and then lash His flesh open with their whips. He is humiliated and condemned, forced to carry the tools of His execution. He bleeds, He falls and new wounds are opened. The robe is wagered His hands and feet are bound. He is a criminal, born to die. And as He breathes His final breath all truth is laid out for the spectators. He loves them all. He forgives the soldier who swung the hammer. He forgives those who cast lots. He forgives those who forsake Him and He forgives those who condemn. Unwittingly, the hatred of the many has given love to more. And the grace that pours from His wounds will forever change the world. copyright 2016 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author