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One Solitary Life

by Adapted from a sermon by James Allan Francis | December 25, 2021 at 3:05 a.m.

He was 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 thirty. Then for three years

He was an itinerant preacher. He never had a family or owned

a home. He never set foot inside a big city. He never traveled

two hundred 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 only piece of property He had--His coat. When He was dead,

He was taken down and laid in a borrowed grave.

Nineteen centuries 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 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 powerfully as this

One Solitary Life.

--Adapted from a sermon

by James Allan Francis

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