Seeing What They See

In the sitting room of my Middle Eastern friends’ family home, I carefully uncovered for Ashraf, his brothers, and their families the portrait I had painted of their father, a gracious patriarch I’d come to love. I felt the extreme satisfaction of an artist who has completed a carefully planned, tediously executed canvas.

A murmur of surprise rippled through the group while they inspected the painting. They sounded approving, but I sensed a reserve I hadn’t expected. Something was missing in their response.

When we were alone, I asked Ashraf whether the gift was well received. He expressed deep appreciation. Then he hesitated as if there was more on his mind. I could tell he didn’t want to hurt my feelings or threaten the friendship we had forged.

I remember the first time Ashraf invited me to his home. I met his father, a shepherd, and several of his six older brothers, all married. We sat down to a mid-morning spread gathered fresh from their family garden, livestock, and kitchen. We enjoyed a lively conversation that lasted far beyond the time it usually takes me to eat breakfast.

That’s how my friendship with Ashraf was born. We ate breakfast together almost every day for the month I was in his country. In my free time, I sketched portraits of him, his brothers, and several young nieces and nephews. The mothers were delighted with my drawings of their children.

Perhaps that’s why, toward the end of our time together, I decided to paint a formal portrait of Ashraf’s father. I had grown to respect him; his quiet manner and hardworking ways endeared him to me. I wanted to honor him. Before I left, I made several sketches of him and studied their living room for a setting where I might pose him in the portrait.

During the next few months, I developed a painting of the elderly man dressed in his formal, traditional clothing and sitting in the family’s living room. After thoughtfully considering the special message I wanted to express, I painted a simple porcelain teapot and one teacup on a small table between the patriarch and the viewer. My reason for including only one teacup was because I had experienced his hospitality in a singular way so many times; he would serve me, but he never provided for his comfort or refreshment. The painting was an expression of my appreciation for the honor of being included so warmly in their home.

So, after sensing Ashraf’s hesitancy to explain the family’s reaction, I pressed him privately. What did they really think of the painting? Was it appropriate?

“We’re greatly honored. It’s very nice.” He was picking his words carefully. “I think the modern teapot is not of my father’s world. We have traditional Arab coffee pots that are very meaningful to us.”

That’s all he said. But in his brief response, I easily grasped the incongruence of the little porcelain teapot and matching teacup. I apologized profusely and assured him I could correct the painting.

Within a few days, I brought out my paints and asked about securing a traditional coffee pot. Within the hour, Ashraf brought in an elegant antique pot borrowed from a cousin. It wasn’t what they used; it was what they valued. In a few strokes of the brush, the modern teapot and single dainty cup disappeared. In their place were an old coffee pot and two traditional teacups because Ashraf had a further suggestion: “We must always have two cups, for a guest is always welcome.”

One more time, the family gathered, and I humbly brought out the corrected painting. Polite acceptance was replaced by noticeable understanding and appreciation. The painting was ceremoniously hung next to the only other decoration on the walls—a verse from their holy book etched in white plaster.

The portrait is a permanent message in their home. As it silently watches over their family experience, I pray it speaks of my desire to see what they see, to grasp what’s meaningful to them. To reach across cultures to those different from us, we must show Jesus’ interest and care and give glory to a personal God who is considerate of their perspective and understands their world.

I’m also praying that God will lead my friend, his six brothers and their families, and his parents to a saving relationship with a Savior who has shared their experience with great empathy—and is present to help.

- The identify of this author has been withheld to protect his ministry.

- This presentation of the artist’s painting was generated by AI (artificial intelligence) due to the sensitivity of mission in this country.

Global Mission is about reaching the unreached for Jesus in the 10/40 Window, which includes the Middle East and North Africa. We do this in various ways, including through the service of Global Mission pioneers, urban centers of influence, Waldensian students, and tentmakers who use their careers to share Christ.

Please support Global Mission in this region with your prayers and financial gifts at Global-Mission.org/giving.

Please remember us in your will and trusts. Visit Global-Mission.org/PlannedGiving or call 800.648.5824.