He was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman, and grew up in another obscure village. He worked as a carpenter for thirty years of His life, and then for three years He was an itinerant preacher. He never wrote a book, and He never held an office.

He never owned a home, never set foot inside a big city, and traveled on foot within a radius of a hundred miles from where He was born.

The only credentials He had was Himself.

While still a young man, the tide of popular opinion turned against Him. His friends ran away. One of His closest friends denied Him. He was turned over to His enemies, went through the mockery of a trial, and was nailed to a cross between two thieves.

His executioners gambled for the only piece of property He had on earth while He was dying—and that was His coat. When He was dead, He was taken down and laid in a borrowed grave through the pity of a friend.

Twenty long centuries have come and gone. His message of unconditional love has inspired the human race to rise above itself and produce marvelous acts of giving and healing for all.

It is no exaggeration to say that all the armies that ever marched, all the navies that were ever built, all the parliaments that ever sat, all the Emperors, Kings, Presidents, and Dictators that ever ruled, put together, have not affected the life of man upon earth as powerfully as this One Solitary Life.

— Provided by James A. Francis