Scarlet Robe Creations

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...

Oh Isreal, love your Lord. Bind His words to the flesh of your hand. Cast your eyes on them. Seal them in your heart. Proclaim this commandment to your children. When you sit, when you walk, when you lie down, when you rise, take these words to your heart. Love your Lord. And Isreal, do not hate your neighbor in your heart. Treat him, as you would wish him to treat you. Hold no grudge. Seek no vengeance. Love your neighbor as you love yourself. Oh Isreal, do not test the one sent. Do not gather against him as scholars thinking the answers are for you, when in truth they are His. For what you have read points to this day, if you but listen to the prophets and understand the law. copyright 2023 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

(Matthew 4.12-22; Mark 1.14-20; Luke 4.14,15; 5.1-11)   I labor with my hands. Hard calloused hands.   I know work and little rest. My night is finished, but you ask me to cast out one more time.   See these hands, teacher, these tired hands. They have mended nets torn by a day’s drudgery.   See these muscles, they are weary and seared. I have nothing to show for my efforts but sweat and ingrained filth.   And you ask me to cast out on the sea again.   My brother hears you speak and he brings you to me, hoping I will listen. Your words excite James and John, but they see life differently than I.   I need to feed my family. My brother and Zebedee’s sons chase prophets and harbor dreams that our world might be different,                 some day.   Your eyes look into my soul. What do you see in me? A body fatigued from its labor. A soul trapped in trial. I do as I say and n...

  I knew your father. He was a good man, Joseph the carpenter.   I was there, in his home, the night he died. I listened to your mother weep    softly.   I’ve heard them tell of the things you’ve done, the words you’ve spoken in prophecy.   I placed the Tora in your hands when you stepped forth. You read the words of the holy scriptures, the prophet Isaiah, a man longing for the messiah.   You staked a claim, The words of the prophet are fulfilled, but you are a carpenter’s son, not the leader we are promised.   They call you blasphemer because of the proclamation you’ve made. They raise fists and stones in the air and unscathed you walk through their midst.   And I fear that if the stories of you are true you have not come for the pious children of Israel but for those we, the righteous,    consider retched. copyright 2016 - Donald P James Jr https://www....

Where is God's view in all this? Do we listen if he were to speak? I think not. I think we are deaf. We are concerned with our own daily need to stand for views that divide and thus, when a child, when a mother, when the innocent are slaughtered, we take sides. Some will stand with the people of Moses. Some will stand with the people who brought Messiah to the world. Others will stand with terrorism, a pledge to kill in the name of God. They will praise the destruction of a people. They become the bloodied Satan and will receive no reward. I console myself by saying the temple is not rebuilt. But in this awful time the streets of the Holy Land are desecrated. Voices cry out in Ramah, women wail and mourn, Rachel is weeping for her children. She refuses to be comforted, because they are no more. copyright 2023 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

The instructions came from one who was simply a guest. He told us to fill the six stone water jars with water. Only water and nothing more.   Who is this man? I asked one of the others. I heard the name Jesus, son of Mary, a cousin of the groom. We are going to drink water at a feast, another whispered.   In my foolishness I laughed softly so none would hear.   A moment after the jars were filled and brought to Mary’s son, He told us to draw some and bring it to the man in charge.   The master tasted wine, the best wine, from this plain water. This son of Mary did nothing but instruct and the fluid obeyed.   Forgive my doubts my foolishness and my laughter when I am instructed to perform tasks I see as impossible. For you are always present, turning my plain water into the most palatable wine. copyright 2016 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author From the Collection;  Pictures of the Messiah

And he said, "Hagar, slave of Sarai, where have you come from, and where are you going? Genesis 16:8 Bernardo Strozzi - Hagar and the Angel 1603 You are the God who sees me. In my affliction, You stood Beside me on the road to Shur. You reveal yourself when I have run to nowhere. I stand in the desert, a homeless slave. Yahweh, You come and promise descendants, You make a covenant with a slave. God hears, and the child of both nations will be born, amidst blood and hostility. My future is not in the hands of my master, but the arms of my God. copyright 2023 - 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...

By the Waters of Babylon , painting by  Arthur Hacker , c.  1888 Loss and hope, we sit here and weep, remembering what we had. The good days have faded, those we took for granted. The world says be joyful for what we have accomplished, I am sad for what we've lost. I hang my harp in the willow. I will not sing for your cause, nor will I dance. How can I say, this life, the one the world adores, Is better than any other. Loss and hope, the waters of Babylon flow by. This world seems foreign. The songs sung here are in languages I cannot understand. For on one day they burnt the holy city. On the next they crucified love. copyright 2023 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Inspired by a line in Mike Pinder's song 'Have You Heard' Recorded by the Moody Blues, on the album 'Threshold of a Dream' Scatter good seed in the fields. The line of a song stays in my mind for days. Have you heard? The song writer asks the question. I have listened to the melody. I have sung the words in beat with the spinning disc of vinyl. But have I scattered seed, and is any of it good. It's odd, how the focus of my mind holds on to those worlds. The rest of the song, though beautiful and prophetic, doesn't strike me today, as those words do. Scatter good seed in the field. Sometimes I need to remind myself that these words are seed. They can bring out good, or evil. It is a matter of how they are scattered and where they land. copyright 2023 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author