Here is a man who was born in a lowly manger, the child of a peasent woman.  He grew up in an obscure village.   He worked in a carpender shop until he was thirty, and then for 3 years was an itinerant preacher. He never wrote a book. He never Held an office. He never went to college. He never owned a house. He never had a Family. he never traveled two hundred miles from the place he was born. He never did one of the things usualy accompany greatness. He had no credentials but himself. He had nothing to do with this world except the power of his devine manhood. While still a young man, the tide of popular opinion turned against him. His friends ran away one of them denied him. He was turned over to his enemies. He went through the mockery of a trial he was nailed upon the cross between two theives. His executioners gambled for the only peice of property he had on earth while he was dying - his coat. When he was dead, he was taken down and laid in a borrowed tomb through the pity of a friend. Nineteen (now 20) wide centuries have come and gone. Today he is the center piece of the human race and the leader of the column of progress. I am within the mark when I say that all the armies that ever marched, and all the navies that were ever built, and all the parlements that ever sat, and all the kings the ever reigned, put together, have not affected the life of man upon this earth as powerfully as has THAT ONE SOLITARY LIFE.

- Philip Brooks

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