Scarlet Robe Creations

  One moment, He is the one longed for, by those whose lives are lived in need of blessing. He is the one who the learned dispise, the one who has come to change what they've manipulated. One moment, He is the one the crowds anoint. He is the one they clamor to, the one who has defended them against authority's stain, the one who told the harlot she was of value in the kingdom. One moment, He is the one challenged for telling a cripple to dance and giving vision to he who could not see, while pointing out the blindness of those who claim to have sight. One moment, He is received as a king, exulted as the one long promised, the one who will crush the serpent's head and cause the high priest to rend his garment. copyright 2026 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author https://www.goodreads.com

The Procession in the Streets of Jerusalem - James Tissot We celebrated him, one moment, palms rising above our heads, a song of David on our lips. We are the simple, those who mourned for Lazarus, and witnessed the miracle. We celebrated him, the rider on a donkey, the one sent to save, the one the priests would refute. For now we dance, irritating the pious and the unjust. But this moment of pauper victory will be short in time. There is a final stand to be made, by those who answer prophecy unwittingly, those who seek comfort in political ties, those who have fashioned a cross and forged the nails of salvation. We celebrated him, and for a brief moment there was sheer joy. Hosanna, my king and my anointed. Hosanna, my savior and my God. copyright 2026 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author https://www.goodreads.com

Christ's Entry Into Jerusalem - Jean-Hippolyte Flandrin "Who is he?" Sara cried as she followed her father through the crowd. Since she was barely seven years old, her father held tightly to her hand.  Her older brother Caleb had moved ahead.  Her question went unanswered. "Is this to do with Passover?" she asked, confused by the apparent celebration. She felt her responsibilities were back home, with her mother.  The festival was near.  There would be many pilgrims coming to the city and flocking to the temple. She knew all the stories about her people being led out of Egypt.  She knew about the manna, the quail, the bitter water, and the golden calf.  Her mother would recite, from memory, words she had heard read from the scrolls.  She knew the blood of a lamb was important for the festival at hand, so was the wooden frame around their door.  Her father slowed.  The crowd ahead was shouting, chanting words about kings and the anointed....

A placard, above the crown, the helmet, the head bloodied by thorns. The king of His people. Do the symbols mock Him, or those who rejected Him? "He is not our king," say those who felt one man should die before a nation should perish. Those who stand for rituals and hypocrisy, at the risk of salvation. A placard, of beaten flesh, calling some to lower their heads, others to scoff. A public display of life submitting to death, only to live again. copyright 2025 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

The altar on a barren hill, a sacrifice, one seen as the world's victory, one brought forth by man's own sin. The altar among the sinners, gazed upon by the curious and afraid. Some have run to shelter after denial takes root. An altar of purification, crossed beams of rough hewn wood. The serpent is crushed by an act of love. The altar on a barren hill, the arms of the lamb spread wide. "Come to me," He says, "and I will give you peace." copyright 2025 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Rending the Veil - William Bell Scott, 1869 The tomb is opened. Come and see. He has said this, promised that He would fulfill scripture. Now it is done. The stone has been rolled away and the darkness inside is empty. The women were first, then those who hid in fear followed. Maybe they doubted Mary's claim. But He has risen. The earth has trembled. The veil has been torn, top to bottom. Grace is upon us. copyright 2025 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Alexander Andreyevich Ivanov (1806-1858) - Christ's Appearance to Mary Magdalene After the Resurrection This is the third day. It has no end. The blood of Friday has passed. We live in a Sunday eternal. This is the third day. The stone has fallen away. The light has returned to the world. Darkness is submissive to Him. This is the third day. There is no need for tears. He has come to Mary. She has told His friends. This is the third day. A day of everlasting joy. The world will never mourn, for those who seek His truth. copyright 2024 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

He has been left in the tomb. The Passover, His Passover, a lamb slaughtered, each doorpost etched with His blood. He was despised and rejected. His love, spat upon, by those who feared His truth. No political voice spoke in His favor. He was slain by the righteous. One from whom people hide their faces. Who can look at what they have done. He counts His bones and forgives. Those who know His love will find the wrappings where vacated flesh once laid. Doubt festers until a single question is asked, "Why do you shed tears?" They have taken the Lord's body. In the morning there is a dance of joy, delayed, until they understand, the blood and sweat on the linen and the words of an angel and the crucified Lord. copyright 2024 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Between light and darkness. An overcast moment trapped between the sun going dark and the stone rolling away. Emptiness replaces fear. With the gray morning there comes reality, all have denied and have fled into the darkness. But yesterday, He was still with us, though painfully. His wounds were nightmarish streaks of blood. The prophet called them stripes. And then the world was dark, trembling. The earth knows of its creator. We speculate. So, in our doubt, we sit in shadowed rooms, afraid to light a candle, or stand by the window. Feeling to the core that He is not with us. Praying that the emptiness will pass and that the sun might rise again. copyright 2024 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

The Last Supper (1325-1330) - Ugolino da Siena Dine with us. Celebrate the night when lamb's blood was wiped on the doorpost. You'll not share another like this. The physical law has become a spiritual grace. We come to the upper room where everything is prepared. Blood of one perfect lamb becomes the wine of another. A sacrifice bringing life to you. Hold the bread in your hands for one moment. It is the flesh that will nourish your spirit. A covenant offered. Come and sit. Dine with us. Embrace what you are freely given. The pain of days to come will blend into joy. Cries made to Heaven for what has been lost will become shouts of rejoicing eternal. copyright 2024 - Donald P James Je https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

"This spectacle disturbs me," Amos says.  He looks out over the crowd gathering at the gates to the great city. "They are simple minded," the elderly man beside him replies. "But I've heard things... about this one." "How often have they walked upon this soil.  How often have they told us to change our ways.  The people think a man like that can raise up an army and send the Romans from our city.  Is there a benefit to riots... or war." "I don't suppose so." "Amos, you are young.  You experience the world with a lack of wisdom.  Your life has a certain degree of comfort, as does mine.  Insurrection against the powers that leave us to live this life... would harm none but those who profess the faith.  The Romans would see us as one united group of rebels.  The nation would perish and the temple will be leveled." "And what about them?" "The simple minded gnats.  They excite themselves with tales of miracle...