Unrecognizable: The Transforming Power of Resurrection

An Easter Sermon by Pastor Dr. Richard Camino

Read by an automated voice.

The scripture reading is found in the Gospel of John 20:14–16

Christ has risen! And here is the strange, beautiful, unsettling thing about that resurrection: almost nobody recognized Him at first.

Think about that for a moment. The disciples who had walked with Jesus for three years, who had heard His voice countless times, who had broken bread with Him and watched Him heal, weep, and pray — they looked at the risen Christ and did not know who He was. Mary Magdalene stood weeping at the tomb, turned around, and saw Jesus standing there, and thought He was the gardener. Two disciples walked with Him for miles on the road to Emmaus in what must have been the most astonishing conversation of their lives — and still, they did not recognize Him.

Something had changed. The resurrection was not resuscitation — a return to the way things were before. It was a transformation. It was a conversion from the human Jesus into the eternal, glorified Lord. And the change was so profound, so complete, that the people who loved Him most had to look twice.

How Did They Finally See Him?

Each time recognition came, it came through something intimate and unmistakable.

Mary recognized Jesus when He called her by name. Not a title. Not a greeting. Her name — Mary — spoken the way only He could speak it, with that particular mix of tenderness and knowing. And she answered not with his name, but with hers for Him: Rabboni,  which means teacher. The intimacy of the relationship broke through the strangeness of the transformation.

The Emmaus disciples recognized Jesus in the breaking of bread. Not in a theological argument, not in a miracle — but in a simple, communal act of sharing a meal. It is in the gesture of bread broken and given that the whole pattern of Jesus' life came flooding back to the disciples in Emmaus. This is who He was. This is how He lived. The community He built, the care He embodied, was written into that moment.

Thomas recognized Jesus through the wounds. He needed to see the marks of the crucifixion — the evidence that this risen Christ had truly suffered, truly loved, truly paid a price. The glorified body still bore the scars. And those scars were not disfigurements. They were the very signature of His love.

Three recognitions: a name spoken with intimacy, a meal shared with community, wounds that bore the fruit of love. Together, they tell us who the risen Christ is — and they raise a question that I want to sit with this morning.

The Question the Resurrection Asks of Us

Can others recognize you after you have been touched by Christ?

I have been reflecting this week on the work of Mexican theologian Elsa Tamez, who writes about what conversion to Christ actually means. Tamez draws our attention back to prophets like Isaiah, who confronted the Israelites' complaint that, despite their fasting, religious rituals, and prayer, God seemed to have abandoned them. Isaiah responded, “Why do we fast and you don’t see; why afflict ourselves and you don’t notice?” Yet on your fast day, you do whatever you want, and oppress all your workers. 4 You quarrel and brawl, and then you fast; you hit each other violently with your fists. You shouldn’t fast as you are doing today, if you want to make your voice heard on high.” Then Isaiah speaks for the Lord, stating: 5 Is this the kind of fast I choose, but losing the bonds of wickedness, letting the oppressed go free, sharing bread with the hungry. Isaiah 58: 3-5 Common English Bible version.

 For the prophet Hosea, there was a call to return to the Lord. The prophet Jeremiah accused the King of Judah, Jehoiakim, when he was constructing his palace, and I quote, “who builds his house with corruption, and his upper chambers with injustice, working his countrymen for nothing, refusing to give them their wages.” Jeremiah 22:13 Common English Bible. The prophet condemns the exploitation of others, not paying them fair wages, and the king’s participation in corruption. Jeremiah is speaking as God's representative. When we look for a similar word for conversion in the Old Testament, the most frequently used term is the Hebrew word shub. This word, in most cases, meant “to turn around,” “to return,” or “to be converted.” It is not a private spiritual transaction that leaves the outside world unchanged, or some sort of feeling; it was about the change that occurs when we return to God.  Conversion is transformation — the kind that makes people look at you and think something is different. Something has changed. I almost didn't recognize you.

The Apostle Paul says it plainly in Galatians 2:20 — "I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me." Not adjusted. Not improved. Crucified and raised. The old self is gone; something new has taken its place.

How to recognize a true encounter with God?

Luce Lopez-Barat, a professor and expert in mystical experience, is often asked how to know when someone has truly had an epiphany, an encounter with God, or had a mystical experience. Her answer was simple. “You will know them by their fruit.” Those fruits are what distinguish a genuine conversion from a delusion, a manipulation, a cult, an emotional experience that fades by Tuesday.

True resurrection transformation makes you closer to what God had intended, “Then God said, 'Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness,' Genesis 1:26 New International Version. God is love; the closer we are to God, the more fully we are given over to love. The telltale sign is not a religious vocabulary or a different set of opinions. It is when the people around you start saying, "I didn't know how much you cared." I didn't know you were capable of that kind of generosity. I almost didn't recognize you.

That is Easter. That is what rising with Christ looks like from the outside.

An Invitation to Rise

There are people in this room today who are, in a real sense, living among the dead — not because they are bad people, but because they are living in the wrong kingdom. A kingdom of self-protection, of scarcity, of suspicion. A kingdom where you have to prove your worth, show your credentials, and earn your place.

Christ's resurrection opens a door to a kingdom entirely different. It is a kingdom that requires no passport, no proof of citizenship. It is a kingdom governed not by power or fear but by love, compassion, and real justice — the kind of justice that Isaiah described, the kind that breaks yokes and feeds the hungry and refuses to look away from the person in need.

I will be honest with you: this is not an easy kingdom. Love never is. The resurrection was not easy — it had to go through a cross first. But it is a living kingdom. And those who dwell in it become, over time, gloriously, wondrously unrecognizable — because the Christ who lives in them is recognizable in every act of love.

Christ is risen. Let us rise with Him. And let us rise so completely, so thoroughly, that the people who love us most have to look twice. And now, with God's blessing, depart to serve!