Just watched the movie Boycott, which depicts the beginnings of the American civil rights movement, with Rosa Parks sparking the Montgomery bus boycott, an impressive and effective example of civil disobedience led by a young and uncertain Martin Luther King. The boycott, which eventually led to the repeal of the Alabama segregation laws, got started simply because a small group of people got organized enough to say "we are tired" and "this must change."

"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."
—Margaret Mead

There's a scene in the movie that gives me goosebumps. King is alone at his dinner table, rattled after receiving another death threat. He's been to jail, he's had his house bombed, he's got thirty thousand people looking to him for leadership, and he's worried for his family's safety. Shaking, he begins praying for strength, admitting to his God that he's afraid, that he doesn't think he's up to the task. In the background, we hear a flashback to an earlier speech he made, which gradually gets louder. It's a cinematic study in contrast between the doubting kitchen table King and the inspirational pulpit speaking King.

Just when you think the old speech is over (since earlier we saw it in full), the words become even more powerful; there's a new end to the speech. At this, King looks up from his prayer with eyes of renewed conviction, once again assured of the manifest destiny of his quest. The new words seem to come from his own interior monologue, springing forth at their own behest, reminding him yet again who he his and where he's going.

It's from fear that greatness comes.