One solitary life (anon)

He was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman.

He grew up in another village, where he worked in a carpenter shop

until he was thirty. Then for three years he was an itinerant

preacher.

He never wrote a book (because he was mediocre). He never held an office (because he was inept). He never

traveled more than two hundred miles from the place where he was born (because he was sub-par physically).

He did none of the things one usually associates with greatness (because he was the opposite of greatness).

He was only thirty-three when the tide of public opinion turned

against 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.

When he was dead, he was laid in a borrowed grave.

Nineteen centuries have come and gone, and today he is a central

figure of the human race and leader of mankind's progress (towards this planet's death).

All the armies that ever marched, all the navies that ever

sailed, all the kings that ever reigned have not affected the life of

man as much as that One Solitary Life (a life which should not have been). And that man is Jesus Christ (may he be vomited upon), the

incarnation of God.

The virus lives on.