He grew up under teachings that shaped his life.
He knew who he was by 12-years old.
He served his community as a carpenter, yet, didn’t seek fame.
He shared with all those who would listen, but was judged by the masses.
He knew his road would be hard, but he set his eyes on the prize.
He challenged the principles of his day, and was accused of being a rebel.
He was rejected by the upright, yet, loved the down and out.
He broke bread with prostitutes, fisherman, and the sick.
He never looked at the outside of a man, but the inside.
He stopped everything, for those who cried out in faith.
He fed thousands, with one loaf of bread, and two fish.
Nothing was impossible, because he knew where his power came from.
He didn’t have to do it, but he did.
Two-thousand years later, we are still talking about this man, still arguing about who he was, and still wondering if his spirit is still alive, today.
His life represented the birth, death, and resurrection in all of us.
The cycle of life that is embedded in our souls.
There is no box that could contain his truth, nor will he ever fit into a man-made system.
He broke down all the walls, so we could understand freedom.
Two thousand years later, his message is the same; it lives in us, and all around us.
It’s never been about religion, race or creed, but about the heart of man, a life of grace, a life of knowing there IS a greater love.
His story still lives on…two-thousand years, later. By C.L.Pynn