He was born in an obscure village...the child of a peasant woman.
He grew up still in another village, where he worked in a carpenter shop until he was thirty.
Then for three years, he was an itinerant preacher.
He never wrote a book.
He never held an office.
He didn't go to college.
He never visited a big city.
He never traveled over 200 miles from the place he was born.
He did none of the things one usually associates with greatness.
He had no credentials but himself.
He was only 33 when the tide of public opinion turned against him.
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.
When he was dead, he was laid in a borrowed grave through the pity of a friend.
Nineteen centuries have come and gone, and today, he is the central figure of the Human Race.
All the armies that ever marched,
All the navies that have ever sailed,
All the parliaments that have ever sat,
All the Kings that have ever reigned,
Put together...
Have not affected the life of man on earth as much as this
One Solitary Life.
Secret Sanctuary.com Designed and Copyrighted 2000 - 2005
by