I was recently sorting through a box of papers I had stored a whlie back and I came across this story.  I don't know where it came from* and I don't even recall reading it before, but I thought it would be good to share it.  Enjoy!

THE CHINESE PAINTING

The old Chinese artist shuffled up the street of his small Chinese village and knocked on the door of his good friend, the missionary.  Under his arm was a large parcel wrapped in cloth.
“I painted this for you,” said the old artist as he gave him the parcel.
The missionary was thrilled and eagerly pulled off the cloth.  He held up the picture admiringly.  It was a picture of a Chinese home, with a little painted wooden fence and gate at the front.  Sitting outside in the warm sun was a Chinese father in his slippers reading his newspaper.  Away down the road, the artist had painted the son walking slowly home, wondering what his father would do to him when he got home.  But the father was too busy reading the newspaper to even notice that his son was coming back home.
“It’s the story you told about the son who left home, wasted his father’s money, and then came back sorry.  Do you remember?” said the old artist.  The missionary remembered.  Every night the old Chinese artist would sit in the corner listening as the missionary told stories from the Bible to the villagers.
“But what does it all mean?” he asked the missionary one night.
“The story is really about God and you and me,” explained the missionary.  “You see, we are like that boy.  We want to live our own way, without our Heavenly Father, and we muck up our lives.  But when we remember how much our Father God loves us, decide to come back to Him and say we are sorry, he welcomes us back again.”
“Oh!” said the artist.  But the missionary was not sure that the old man really understood.
So the missionary again looked at the painting.
“Don’t you remember in the Bible story that Jesus told,” said the missionary, “how the father was watching to see if his son would come back, and ran down the road to meet him when he saw him coming?”
“But a Chinese father wouldn’t do that,” said the artist.  “My father would have been ashamed and disowned me if I had done what the boy in the story did.”
“Ah!” said the missionary, “But that is what makes God the Father so awesome!”
The eyes of the Chinese artist grew wide with surprise.  He nodded his head.  “Oh, yes!”  Suddenly he understood what this Father God was like.  His face beamed.
“Excuse me, could I take the painting back?” asked the artist.
It was some days before the missionary saw him again.  The artist had been thinking about this wonderful God and had repainted the picture.  “Here it is,” said the artist when he brought it back.  “I have made some changes.”
The missionary looked carefully at the painting.  Most of the picture was the same.  There was the same white painted house and fence with a gate.  The son was still in the picture trudging slowly home, wondering what his father would say.  The big difference was in the father.  He was not sitting reading the paper now.  Instead, he was running through the open gate to welcome his son home.
“Yes,” said the missionary, “this is like the story Jesus told.”
Then he noticed something strange.  The artist had painted a shoe on one foot of the father, and a slipper on the other foot.
“Why have you painted a shoe on one foot and a slipper on the other foot?” asked the young missionary, pointing to the father in the picture.
“Well,” said the old man, “the father was so glad to see his son coming home that he didn’t have time to put both shoes on.”
The old Chinese artist and the young missionary laughed together.