“Here is a man who was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman. He grew up in another village, and that a despised one.
He worked in a carpenter shop until he was 30, and for three years, He was an itinerant preacher.
He never held an office.
He never owned a house.
He never wrote a book.
He never went to college.
He never put His foot inside a big city.
He never traveled 200 miles from the place where He was born.
He had no credentials but Himself.
While He was a young man, the tide of public opinion turned against Him.
His friends ran away. One of them betrayed Him.
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 piece of property he had on earth, and that was His seamless robe.
When He was dead, He was laid in a private grave through the pity of a friend.
Nineteen wide centuries have come and gone, and today He is the masterpiece of the human race and the leader of all progress.
I am far within the mark when I say that all the armies that ever marched, and all the navies that were ever 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 this earth as that One Solitary Life.”