Born in an obscure village, He was the child of a peasant woman. He worked in a carpenter shop until He was thirty years old, and then for three years He travelled around the country, stopping long enough to talk and to listen to people, and help where He could. He never wrote a book, He never had a hit record, He never went to college, He never ran for public office, He never had a family, or owned a house. He never did any of the things that usually accompany greatness. He had no credentials but Himself But when He was only thirty-three years old, the tide of public opinion turned against Him, and His friends all rejected Him. When He was arrested, very few wanted anything to do with Him. After the trial, He was executed by the State along with admitted thieves. Only because a generous friend offered his own cemetery plot was there any place to bury Him. This all happened nineteen centuries ago, and yet today He is the leading figure of the human race, and the ultimate example of love. Now it is no exaggeration to say that all the armies that have ever marched, all the navies that have ever set sail, all the rulers that have ever ruled, all the kings that have ever reigned on this earth, all put together have not affected the life of man on earth like this One Solitary Life.
—Fred Bock (alt. )
Hymns for the Family of God
<idle musing>
This was a pretty popular saying in the 1970s. If I recall correctly, the first time I heard it was on a the Gaither Alleluia! A Praise Gathering for Believers album (1973). But it rapidly spread.
<idle musing>
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