One solitary life

He was in born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman. He grew up in another obscure village, where he worked in a carpenter shop until he was 30. Then for three years he was an itinerant preacher.

He never had a family or owned a home. He never set foot inside a city. He never travelled 200 miles from the place he was born, he never wrote a book or held an office. He did none of the things that usually accompany greatness.

While he was still a young man, the tide of popular opinion turned against him. His friends deserted 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 the one piece of property he had -- his coat. When he was dead, he was taken down and laid in a borrowed grave.

Two thousand years have come and gone, and today he is the central figure for much of the human race. All the armies that ever marched and all the navies that ever sailed, all the parliaments that ever sat and all the kings that ever reigned--put together--have not effected the life of man upon this earth as powerfully as this "One Solitary Life."

(My Mom and Dad took my niece to see the Radio city Music Hall Christmas Spectacular last weekend and were thrilled to see a live nativity at the end of the show. These words were played across the stage screen and Mom was happy to see them in the program as well because she found them simple and moving and wanted to share them with me and all of you.)