ONE SOLITARY LIFE

He was born in an obscure village. He worked in a carpenter's shop until He was thirty and for those years He was an itinerant preacher. He never wrote a book. He never held an office. He never owned a home. He never had a family. He never went to college. He never traveled 200 miles from the place where He was born. He never did one of the things that accompany man's idea of greatness. He had no credentials but Himself. While still a young man, the tide of popular opinion turned against Him. His friends ran away. Some of them denied Him. He was turned over to His enemies. He went through the mockery of a trial. He was nailed to a cross between two thieves. While He was dying, His executioners gambled for the only piece of property he had on earth -- His coat. When He was dead, He was taken down and 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 ever marched, and all the navies that were ever built, and all the parliaments that ever sat, and all the kings that ever reigned, put together, have never affected the life of man upon earth as powerfully as has that one solitary life. (St. Anon)