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


He grew up in still another village,
where he worked in a carpenter shop until he was 30.


Then for three years he was an itinerant preacher.


He never wrote a book.


He never held an office.


He never had a family or owned a house.


He didn't go to college.


He never traveled more than 200 miles
from the place he was born.


He did none of the things one usually
associates with greatness.


He had no credentials but himself.


He was only 33 when public 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.


When he was dying, his executioners gambled for his clothing,
the only property he had.. . . on earth.


When he was dead, he was laid in a borrowed grave
through the pity of a friend.