I am certain that Jesus understood the difficulty inherent in the act of loving one's enemy. He never joined the ranks of those who talk glibly about… - Martin Luther King Jr.

As my sufferings mounted I soon realized that there were two ways in which I could respond to my situation — either to react with bitterness or seek to transform the suffering into a creative force. I decided to follow the latter course.

I'm tellin' yuh this morning, money can't save yuh. A beautiful home can't save yuh. Beautiful automobiles can't save yuh. It's God that will save us in the final analysis. And I say to this morning that history is teaching us a lesson. And I hope that we will see it. That there must be underneath all of our wills, underneath all of our material attainment, a moral and religious undergirding that will help us to know that God is our father. That he made us and that we are dependent on Him, and Him only, and when we see that, we have something. For we can arise from the fatigue of despair to the buoyancy of hope. Dark yesterday can be transformed into bright tomorrow. When you know God, you can stand up amid the agonies and burdens of life and not despair. When you know God, you can stand up amid tension and tribulation and yet smile in the process. When you know God, you go on livin' anyhow. Nothin's gonna stop you 'cause you know that God is watching in your heart. When you know God, you have on some shoes that can help you walk through any muddy place. When you know God, you know that He is over everything. That [he]'s a rock in a weary land, that he is a shelter in the time of a storm. ... When you know God, you can live and never die. We're gonna open the doors of the church, now, somebody here needs to accept the Christ. Somebody needs to come this morning. Discerning the signs of history. And as we sing who this morning will make that step. Remain true to the faith of our fathers. Somebody needs to decide Now. Who will come. When we sing will you make that step.

For years now I have heard the word “Wait!” It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This “Wait” has almost always meant “Never.” We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that “justice too long delayed is justice denied.” We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God-given rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jet-like speed toward gaining political independence, but we still creep at horse-and-buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say, “Wait.” But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick, and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six-year-old daughter why she can’t go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five-year-old son who is asking: “Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?”; when you take a cross-county drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading “white” and “colored”; when your first name becomes “nigger,” your middle names becomes “boy” (however old you are), an