Some years ago, an anonymous writer wrote this of Jesus; -
“Here is a young man who was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman. He grew up in another village. He worked in a carpenter’s shop until he was 30, and then for three 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 put his foot inside a great city. He never travelled 200 miles from the place where he was born.
He never did the things that usually accompany greatness. He had no credentials but himself. While he was still young, the tide of public opinion turned against him. His friends ran away. 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 property he had on earth, and that was his cloak. When he was dead, he was laid in a borrowed grave through the pity of a friend.
Nineteen wide centuries have come and gone, and still he is the central figure of the human race and the leader of the column of progress.
I am far within the mark when I say that all the armies that ever marched, and all the navies that ever were built and all the parliaments that ever sat and all the kings that ever reigned put together, have not affected the life of man upon the earth as has that One Solitary Life.”