He was born in an obscure village.
He worked in a carpenter shop until He was thirty.
He then became an itinerant preacher.
He never held an office.
He never had a family or owned a house.
He didn't go to college.
He had no credentials but Himself.
He was only thirty three when the public turned against
Him.
His friends ran away.
He was turned over to His enemies and went through
the mockery of a trial.
He was nailed to a cross between two thieves. While he
was dying, His executioners gambled for His clothing,
the only property He had on earth.
He was laid in a borrowed grave.
Nineteen centuries have come and gone, and today He
is the central figure of the human race.
All the armies that have marched, all the navies that ever sailed,
all the parliaments that ever sat, and all the kings that ever
reigned have not affected the life of man on this earth as much
as that One Solitary Life.
Author Unknown