I’ve always been a big fan of those TV makeover shows. My favorites are the episodes that tell the backstory of deserving families who have suffered great loss, and due to circumstances out of their control (sickness, death, housefire, etc.), their homes have fallen into disrepair. Then a team of carpenters and designers show up, and a week or so later, the house is better than ever. They’ve added outdoor living spaces and personalized bedrooms for the kids. In some cases, there are new wheelchair ramps and even elevators.

The best part of these shows are the before and after pictures. You see a shot of a crumbling ceiling, peeling paint, and stained carpet. Then cut to the update. They removed walls and replaced windows, opening up the floor plan for natural light. Everything is changed.

As much as I enjoy these stories, the absolute best version of this “Before” and “After” contrast comes near the end of all four of the Gospels. In the Apostle John’s account starting in chapter 19, we read about Jesus being flogged and brutally crowned with a twisted circle of thorns. He was made to carry the beam which would be his cross and watch his mother as she wept. Then after he died, his body was taken down and buried. Most of his friends were afraid and scattered.

Though the chapter breaks were added more than 1,000 years after the authors wrote their accounts, it’s obvious why the early church theologians set up these sections the way they did. Even if you know how the story ends, when you finish John 19, you feel the weight of what has just happened. There was literal darkness in the middle of the day (like we read in Matthew 27:45 – “From noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over all the land.”), and those dark and hopeless feelings remain. Then you turn the page…

John 20 begins this way: “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb...” It was still dark because she was out before sunrise, but I would bet that Mary felt that darkness down to her toenails. She may have shivered and pulled her cloak a little tighter around her slumped shoulders as she entered the garden, approaching the tombs of the dead. But that was her “Before,” and she was about to get her “After.” The rest of that verse says: “(she) saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance.” Mary was sure what this meant. At first, she wouldn’t allow herself to believe it was the miracle of resurrection.

She ran to find Peter and John, then she told them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!” The men came to inspect the empty tomb and ran back home. But Mary couldn’t run anymore. She stood by the empty tomb and cried until two angels spoke to her. Maybe her vision was blurred by her tears, but the reality of the presence of these angelic beings didn’t seem to faze her. When they asked why she was crying, Mary repeated the words she had said to the disciples: “They’ve taken his body and I don’t know where they put him.”

Then Mary turned to see a man who she thought was a gardener standing behind her. Again, Mary continued with what must’ve seemed the most logical conclusion— for her to assume someone took Jesus’ body. If she could just discover where they moved it, she could complete her task, to add burial spices to his wrapped corpse. Then this apparent gardener said one word that changed her morning…well, it changed her life. The man she thought was a stranger said her name. “Mary.” Then she knew Jesus had risen.

This isn’t a story just for Mary Magdalene or Peter and John. This is also a “Before” and “After” story for me and you. It’s time to turn around and see the One who’s so much more than we sometimes give Him credit for. He’s our Passover Lamb and our Risen Savior, and if you listen closely, you’ll hear him saying your name, too.