Scarlet Robe Creations

Enrique Simonet - 1892 Good news! Perhaps you have heard. Not on your nightly news. They would much rather speak of society's ills. But there is good news. You need to seek it, to find it. You need to kneel and not stand. You need to praise and not criticize. Good news! Perhaps you have listened. There are voices that speak with purity. Those with no agenda other than to share the news. Those who are not afraid to stand up for one name. Those who are not afraid to stand up for the words written in one book. Good news! Perhaps you have understood. If so, have you taken care to nourish the seed? Have you fertilized the soil? Has it born good fruit where you dwell? Has it been shared with those who need to hear the most? Good news! Perhaps you have heard. The sonnet is spoken by the preacher in the street. The words are whispered by a friend at your bedside. Tune out the syllables of hate. Turn away from that which divides. You have been told to not be of this world. Perhaps you haven...

  And Paul says to Timothy, What did you bring into the world? Nothing! What can you take out of the world? Nothing! And we strive for more when we have everything we need. We work until our fingers have been made raw and worry about obtaining more than we have already been given. Wealth of coinage brings temptation and heartache. Those who desire trinkets of silver and gold are led to the world's truth, not God's We sacrifice relationships for careers. We ignore the urgent prayer in our souls which longs to be heard. And still, Paul says to Timothy... copyright 2023 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./autho

James Tissot (French, 1836-1902).  The Lord's Prayer  It is written. (Matthew 4:4)   Prophets shared the message given to them in dreams.   They put to writing songs sung through the breeze, or fanfares brought forth by magnificent storms.   As bread sustains the moment, Scripture fulfills your life.   The word of God has promised offspring to Abraham, freedom to Moses and forgiveness to all of the twelve tribes… and the gentiles.   It is written.   Absorb the flavor of each word.   Do not just know that the words exist… live them.   Feel the love of the covenant, given by pure love as an act of love.     The time has come. (Mark 1:15)   And thus it has.   He stands here now.   You can seek Him out, in the Jordan, in the desert, on the shore of the lake, on the mount where He preaches, or in the temple.   Soon He will enter the Holy City triumphantly.   You will see Him on a donkey. ...

He was there, unexpected. The moment wasn't planned. He would never have chosen to be victimized in such a way. Still, he was run down in the street, like a rabid dog. They could have killed him right there, but that wouldn't be as much fun. Brought before a judge who had determined his fate before ever allowing the whip to strike flesh. He carried the beam, following the others. He fell, once. No one noticed.  No one cried. No one helped him with his burden. He wasn't loved. So how is it, that he is lifted up beside the one he never listened to? Never had the man's voice interrupted his plotting. Never had he listened to a parable, or even wondered why the religious fools called him a blasphemer. And then the third curses. He taunts the one Simon of Cyrene assisted. He taunts the one for who tears were shed. He's done nothing wrong. We deserve our fate. Those thoughts hold a siege on his painfilled mind. The words leave his mouth, unplanned. What is the worst they ...

  For one brief moment, the rising sun touched the incoming clouds with glory. The eastern sky was ablaze and for a moment the world was bathed in appreciation and the love of creation. He says, "Look to me now, not when you feel you are ready." He says, "See my glory now, with opened eyes. Do not wait for the clouds that will come and cause you to turn away." For one brief moment, the rising sun touched the incoming clouds with glory. I opened my eyes and took in a glimpse of heaven. A moment later the clouds moved in. copyright 2023 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Lift me up from the hole I have dug for myself. Give me your hand that I might cling and keep a firm grip. Hold me back when I lunge toward the fire. Keep me  where the ground is stable. Walk beside me  when storms encroach on my sandy beach. You gave when I didn't deserve. You offered what I had no right to expect. You were broken that I might be healed, spat upon that I might dine at Your table. copyright 2023 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

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...

I wrote this poem a long time ago and included it in the collection 'Pictures of the Messiah'. When I wrote this I was thinking about Jesus' visit to Bethany and the idea of true hospitality. Georg Friedrich Stettner -1639 You can rest here. After days in which your journey has been fulfilled with dust, rain and cold. Peaceful among the fragrances of this kitchen.   Speak to me. Teach me my friend. I’ll not petition you in any way. I’ll try my best to put aside my weakness and become a soft pillow for your head, which is so used to resting on stone.   I’ll come in from the yard when my work is complete. Embrace you as my brother. I’ll speak to you of my joys. The ordinary moments of life repeating themselves daily and filling me with such peace.   Be with my family as if they were your own. Share in their laughter. Quench your thirst with cool drink and ease your hunger on freshly baked breads.   I know you have much more work to do. You have cities to convert, hom...

  Inspired by Brennan Manning's Ragamuffin Gospel (Paste Jewelry and Sawdust Hotdogs) She walked beside her pastor through the gardens outside her church.  A late spring Sunday, and the roses were in bloom.  There were red and pink blossoms to their right.  Tiny yellow roses, and a few whites to their left.  Had she been alone she would have taken a sniff.  After all, Mac Davis did say we should 'Stop and Smell the Roses'. "I am troubled," she said.  She wasn't sure if she wanted to speak to the pastor, or the deacon.  But her pastor was here and the moment seemed right. "I desire to move closer to God in my prayer life, but I find it difficult.  Sometimes... just reciting a formulated prayer leaves me feeling empty.  I need to know how to pray... I guess." "Formulated prayer leaves you empty?" His question bit into the cool air of the morning. "Sometimes." "Prayer is not about OUR feelings," he said, before adding, ...

The path makes you wonder, have I been down this one, or is it yet to be revealed. So many crossroads, each day, or routes that wander through different valleys. How many paths have you walked? Have we me? If we have, I hope we left with a smile and maybe a hug. If our last impression was of sadness, I hope we meet again. copyright 2023 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author