Our human tendency is to be impatient with the person who cannot

Henry B. Eyring, a teacher of faith and humility, once counseled with gentle wisdom: “Our human tendency is to be impatient with the person who cannot see the truth that is so plain to us. We must be careful that our impatience is not interpreted as condemnation or rejection.” In these words, he unveils a danger that lurks in every heart: the temptation to exalt ourselves above others when they do not share our vision. To us, the truth may seem radiant, undeniable, and near at hand. Yet to another, it may be veiled, distant, or obscured by pain, ignorance, or fear. To respond with impatience is to wound rather than heal, to push away the very soul we hope to guide.

The meaning of this teaching is layered with both caution and compassion. It reminds us that clarity is not universal—what one person sees easily may take another a lifetime to grasp. The wise must therefore temper urgency with patience, for the heart is not conquered by scorn, but by gentleness. Impatience, though often born of zeal, can sound like condemnation, and condemnation can close doors that patience might have opened. Eyring calls us to remember that truth shared without love is not a gift, but a burden that others will refuse to carry.

History shows us both the harm of impatience and the triumph of patience. Consider the Reformation in Europe. Many reformers, convinced of their vision, spoke with fire against the blindness of their opponents. Their truths may have been real, but their impatience often turned into condemnation, sparking wars and divisions that tore nations apart. Contrast this with the example of Abraham Lincoln, who, though firm in his conviction against slavery, spoke often with charity toward those who opposed him. His second inaugural address breathed not condemnation, but reconciliation: “With malice toward none, with charity for all.” His patience did not dilute his truth; it gave it power to heal.

Even in the life of the great teacher Socrates, we see the necessity of patience. He questioned his fellow Athenians not with anger, but with curiosity, drawing out their thoughts until they themselves saw the weakness in their reasoning. Had he mocked or condemned them, they would have closed their ears. But through patient questioning, he planted seeds of wisdom that have borne fruit for centuries. Though he was condemned in the end, his method revealed the strength of Eyring’s counsel: truth must be shared without rejection, else it falls upon barren soil.

The heart of this teaching is humility. To be impatient with another is often to forget how long it took us to learn what we now hold dear. Who among us saw the truth clearly at first glance? Who among us has not stumbled, resisted, or doubted before arriving at clarity? Patience, then, is an act of remembrance, an acknowledgment that we too once walked in darkness. Condemnation forgets our own journey; compassion honors it.

The lesson for us is plain: if we wish others to embrace truth, we must speak it with patience, humility, and love. Let not zeal for clarity drive us to harshness. Instead, extend kindness, even when others resist. Listen before you teach, encourage before you correct, and remember always that rejection of an idea is not rejection of a soul. If we would truly guide, we must show that we do not abandon others when they struggle to see what we see.

Practically, this means pausing when frustration rises. When another cannot understand, breathe before you speak, and ask yourself: “Am I condemning, or am I guiding?” Share truth not as a weapon, but as light gently offered. Replace scorn with encouragement, impatience with persistence. In families, in friendships, in communities, this practice will transform division into unity, and misunderstanding into growth.

Thus, Eyring’s words shine as a lamp for every generation: truth without patience becomes arrogance, but truth with patience becomes salvation. Let us, then, be careful in our zeal, lest we drive away those we seek to uplift. And let us walk in the way of the ancients: strong in conviction, yet gentle in spirit, guiding others not with condemnation, but with compassion that endures until their eyes too are opened.