"He was born in an obscure village, the
child of a peasant woman.
He grew up in still 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 travelled two hundred miles from
the place where he was born.
He did none of the things one usually associates with greatness.
He had no credentials but himself.
He was only thirty-three when the tide of public opinion
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.
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 and the leader of mankind's
progress.
All the armies that ever marched,
all the navies that ever sailed,
all the parliaments that ever sat,
all the kings that have ever reigned, put together
have not affected the life of man on earth as much as that
one solitary life."
Author Unknown
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