An Unexpected Painting
by Jonah T.
Jesus Christ. I watched as she slowly and carefully painted those words in broad, blue brush strokes at the bottom of my complimentary scroll. It seemed unnatural. How was it, I wondered, that the name of my Savior was here appearing before my eyes? Of all places, the most precious two words in all of history had arrived at this tiny art gallery produced by the hands of a woman who had never heard them until that night. I was in complete awe, especially considering the circumstances that had brought me here in the first place.
That night I had one thing in mind: smoothies. I had recently discovered a local shop that made the best blended, fruity masterpieces in town, and on this particular evening I was craving one with a passion. So, as the sun was starting to set, I strapped on my travel pack (which screamed “I don’t live here”), threw on my ball cap (again, “tourist”), and headed out. The location was far from next door, so after walking for around thirty minutes I finally arrived, mouth-watering, at the front door. They were closed.
Trying to fight crippling disappointment, I set off again, determined to wander the dusty streets until I found a smoothie somewhere else, and it was that gritty determination that God used to lead me to Julia. Her shop sat on the next street over a small art gallery open at an odd hour of the night. I felt a strange pull the first time I walked by to go inside, but since they didn’t have smoothies, it wasn’t until the second passing (after I had finally given up on my smoothie hunt) that I took a peek inside. Nothing happened at first; I was just standing in an unfamiliar place surrounded by paintings of pithy, misspelled English phrases, and a ceiling covered by a ridiculous amount of origami swans. In a few more moments I would have called it a night, but just before I turned to go, a short, black-haired woman came out from a back room and, excited to find me perusing her shop, introduced herself as the owner and the crafter of the infinite paper swans. Though her English was as broken as the quotes she had attempted to reproduce, she was exceedingly friendly and we struck up a long conversation. Somewhere in the midst of it, she did something that surprised me.
“I love to give painting,” she said. “You write on this paper and I paint what you say. Yours for free.”
She would hear nothing of my polite protests, and I’m not one to deny a gift for long. So with the notepad she had handed me, I wrote the first thing that came to my mind: my life verse, Acts 20:24. I went to hand her the paper.
“On bottom write few words, name or something. I write this big on painting.”
Gathering that she wanted a sort of caption for my art, I gave her the next two words that came to my mind: Jesus Christ. At first, I was disappointed that I hadn’t been able to think of something a little more clever, but later, as I watched those words flow gently from the end of her brush, I knew that there was nothing greater God could have placed in my mind. Seeing His name there, off of a dusty side street in the heart of an unreached nation, brought tears to my eyes. The Lord used that emotion inside of me to push past the fear, and underneath a flock of paper swans He gave me words to share with her the meaning of the beautiful name she had written.
That night at Julia’s art shop is a strong reminder to me of the pervasive power of the gospel, the power that supersedes my selfishness. Had that night ended the way I planned, I would have fallen asleep at an early hour with the sweet taste of strawberries and mangoes on my satisfied lips. But that night wasn’t in my hands, and as a result I went to bed late with a satisfied soul and a rolled-up paper reminder of the reason I had signed up for this mentorship in the first place: to see the name of Jesus proclaimed throughout the world. And when God is at work, that name, that wonderful name, can find its way into any nation, street, or art gallery that He so chooses. He will reach His people, and joining him in that mission is to taste a joy much, much sweeter than any of the other fruitless passions we so often pursue.
“But I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God.”
Acts 20:24
