God has always given me the strength to say what is right.

The words of Rosa Parks — “God has always given me the strength to say what is right.” — resound like the quiet thunder of a soul anchored in truth. They are not the boast of pride, nor the cry of anger, but the humble acknowledgment of a woman who knew that her courage was not her own alone. To say what is right is often the hardest of tasks, for it demands standing against the tide of injustice, even when one’s voice trembles, even when the cost is great. In these words, Parks reveals the source of her unyielding spirit: faith in a power beyond herself.

Strength is not always found in the muscles of warriors or in the arsenals of nations. Sometimes it is found in the stillness of one seated on a bus, refusing to rise. Parks’ act was small in appearance, yet titanic in meaning. To speak what is right — not always with words, but with actions — requires a fortitude born of the spirit. And Parks testifies that this fortitude did not spring from her alone, but from the well of God, who gave her the courage to endure what others would not dare.

History is filled with such moments where divine strength sustained human weakness. Consider the story of Joan of Arc, a simple peasant girl who claimed that God had sent her to lead France against its enemies. Mocked, doubted, and threatened, she stood firm, saying what was right as she understood it. Her voice moved kings and inspired soldiers, not because of her power, but because of her unshakable conviction that her strength was not her own. Like Parks, she revealed that courage is multiplied when rooted in faith.

Parks’ words also remind us that speaking what is right is often costly. On that December day in Montgomery in 1955, she could have chosen silence, she could have chosen compliance. Instead, she chose resistance through dignity. For this, she was arrested and humiliated. Yet her strength, drawn from God, transformed her suffering into a spark that ignited the civil rights movement. Her testimony teaches us that those who endure hardship for righteousness become pillars upon which justice is built.

The deeper truth here is that strength of character is not natural to all; it must often be borrowed from the eternal. Many of us fear rejection, loss, or ridicule when we speak truth. We tremble before the power of society, of authority, of tradition. But Parks’ words remind us that we are not alone. The strength to resist, to proclaim, to live by what is right is given to those who ask, who seek, who trust in something higher than themselves.

The lesson is clear: if you wish to live as a bearer of truth, do not depend on your own courage alone, for it may falter. Anchor yourself in values, in faith, in a sense of duty greater than your own comfort. In moments of trial, remember Rosa Parks, who found strength not in anger or violence, but in the quiet assurance that her cause was righteous and her spirit sustained. Let her example be a torch for all who face injustice.

Practical wisdom follows. In your own life, when you are called to speak or act for what is right, pause and draw from the well of inner conviction. Pray, reflect, or anchor yourself in the principles that guide you. Do not shrink from small acts of truth, for they may ripple outward into history. Whether at work, in family, in society, speak with dignity and calm. Let your courage be steady, not boastful; firm, not violent.

Thus, Parks’ words endure as both humble confession and eternal teaching: true strength is given, and it is given to serve what is right. Her life shows us that one voice, empowered by faith and courage, can awaken a generation. So let us, too, seek strength beyond ourselves, and when the moment arrives, let us rise — or sit — in the name of what is just. For in doing so, we carry forward the eternal flame of righteousness that no power on earth can extinguish.