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| This site owned by Jackie Lane |
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| He was born in an obscure village, the son of a simple peasant woman.
He grew up in another small town, and worked with His father in a carpenter shop until He was thirty. And then for three years, He was what we might call a traveling preacher. He never wrote a book; He never held political office. The places He did go, He usually walked. He never did any of the things that one normally associates with greatness. He had no credentials but Himself. When He was only thirty-three years old, the tide of public opinion turned against Him. Some of His friends deserted Him; one denied Him; one even betrayed Him and turned Him 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 His only possession, His robe ... His purple robe. When He was dead, He was taken from the cross and laid in a borrowed grave, provided through the compassion of a friend. Almost twenty wide centuries have since come and gone, and today this man is the centerpiece of the human race; the leader in the column of mankind's progress. I think that I am well within the mark when I say ... that all the armies that ever marched; all the navies that ever sailed the Seven Seas; all the legislative bodies that ever met; all the kings and rulers that have ever reigned, all put together, have not affected the life of man on this earth as much as that ONE SOLITARY LIFE! |
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