I hung my painting of Jesus’ hand on the gallery wall and stepped back to take in the full display. Five paintings of covered Muslim women, scarred with golden fractures, were displayed between two paintings of hands with gold wounds.
Six months earlier, I had rented this art gallery with a simple prayer. “Lord, what is the image you want the people of this country to see?”
Now, I was hosting an eight-day art show. My goal was to display the Gospel, and I hoped that my pieces would especially resonate with young women.
While people milled about in the gallery, a woman approached me and introduced herself as Ela.
“What do these paintings mean?” she asked, gesturing to my display.
I smiled. “What you think they mean?”
Ela tilted her head and considered them. “The hands look as if someone is holding these different people.” Her gaze swept across the paintings. “The gold in his hands is like a gift for them.”
I nodded. “That’s a beautiful observation. I think so too.” I pointed to a QR code on the wall next to the painting. “Scan this and see if you can guess whose hands these are.”
She scanned the code and read Isaiah 53:5 aloud when it popped up on her phone. “He was pierced for our transgressions; He was crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with His wounds we are healed.”
Ela raised an eyebrow. “That’s lovely, but I’m still not sure whose hands they are.”
“These are the hands of Jesus the Messiah,” I explained. I knew the Islamic understanding of Jesus as the Messiah was different from the biblical one, so I prayed for an opportunity to explain.
Ela nodded thoughtfully and waited for me to continue.
“When He was crucified, they nailed His hands to the cross. After rising from the dead, He showed His disciples the holes in his hands as proof that He was truly Jesus, now alive.”
“What about the women? How do they fit in?” Ela asked, turning her attention back to the paintings with interest.
“They show that, through Jesus, it is possible for our brokenness to be restored. He conquered all sin and shame when He rose from the dead. The Bible says that by His wounds we are healed!”
Ela was silent for a long moment, and I wondered if she was thinking about a proverb in Arabic that goes something like, “A girl’s honor is like a glass vase. If it is broken, it can never be made perfect again and will always have scars.”
I’d brushed gold over cracks in the five paintings, hoping to communicate that our worst scars can be redeemed through Jesus’ suffering on the cross. The idea that Jesus offers to heal all wounds is truly a miracle in the honor-based culture in which I live.
Ela’s hand hovered over the painting in the center, tracing the air above the fractures.
“I painted these covered women with scars of gold for two reasons,” I continued. “I wanted to paint the women I see every day and show that this message is for everyone.”
“That is beautiful,” Ela said. “Tomorrow I will bring my mother. You must explain the paintings to her, too.”
Sure enough, Ela returned the next day with her mom, and the day after, she brought a group of friends from college to hear what I had shared.
At the end of the art show, I sold the paintings to a local believer who plans to hang them in her home and use them to strike up conversations about Jesus with guests.
Since the art show closed, Ela has been coming frequently to my home to study the Bible with me. She’s beginning to understand how much Jesus truly loves her, and I pray she will choose to follow Jesus, the Savior and true Messiah.
Pray:
- Pray for Ela and her friends to continue taking steps of faith.
- Ask the Lord to prompt many young Muslim women to study His Word.
- Pray that the paintings will continue to spark conversations about Jesus as they hang on the wall of a warm and welcoming home.
**This account comes from a long-term worker. Names have been changed for security.**
Main photo on iStock
Original article: https://frontiersusa.org/blog/woman-in-the-painting/