I think it's funny. People didn't recognize Jesus when he stood right in front of them. I mean, not "Ho-ho, that's spankin' my knee hilarious!" just-shake my head in amazement.
and after he was starved of food and water, kept up all night, beaten half to death-strike that, most the way to death, made to drag a board the size of two railroad ties a couple miles-uphill, and then nailed through the arms and feet (kinda like when you bang your funny bone, only instead of a table edge or door jamb, it's more like re-bar, and instead of going away after five minutes, it just goes on and on and on...) to those same railroad ties, then left to starve in the wind and sun, and then when the weather turned bad and people got tired of waiting for him to die already, they went ahead and poked him through with a spear---after all this he was probably barely recognizable.
Then, after a few days on a cold slab in a cave, with rags stuffed into his mouth and wrapped all around his neck and head, after absolutely no medical attention or consideration, he got up, alive, and more real than anything else in the entire world. More real than anything else in the entirety of all that exists. And people still didn't recognize him.
Even now. I frequently don't recognize him. And then by his grace he opens my eyes. And usually it's after he's tried to explain it to me, after he's tried to show me. After. I turn around and look again, realizing it was Jesus! IT WAS JESUS! How could I have missed that?!
Just by being a human I guess.
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