Patience is the ability to idle your motor when you feel like

Hear the voice of Barbara Johnson, who with wit and wisdom clothed eternal truth in the garments of modern speech: “Patience is the ability to idle your motor when you feel like stripping your gears.” In these words, she likens the restless human spirit to a machine, full of fire and force, eager to move, to push, to surge forward even when the moment is not yet right. To idle the motor is to hold steady, to restrain the mighty power within, lest haste shatter what strength was meant to build. It is the secret art of stillness in the midst of urgency.

The origin of this insight is born of life itself, for Johnson was no stranger to trial. As an author and speaker, she often brought comfort to the grieving and encouragement to the weary. She knew that the greatest tests of the soul do not come in moments of action, but in moments of waiting—when the heart longs to move but wisdom demands delay. Thus she gave the image of gears, delicate though strong, which may be broken if pressed beyond their measure. Likewise, the human soul, when driven by anger, impatience, or haste, risks breaking under its own force.

The ancients too understood this lesson, though they knew not the language of motors and gears. They spoke instead of the warrior who holds back his sword until the precise moment, or the farmer who does not reap until the harvest is ripe. To act too soon was to invite ruin; to wait with discipline was to win the prize. Johnson’s modern image carries the same eternal meaning: patience is not weakness, but power under control. It is the lion crouching before the leap, the archer waiting for the perfect shot.

Consider the story of Abraham Lincoln. Throughout his presidency, he bore the pressure of war, the cries of the impatient, and the bitterness of his critics. Many demanded immediate, reckless actions—swift vengeance, sudden decrees. Yet Lincoln often chose to idle his motor, holding steady through storms of outrage until the right moment came. His issuing of the Emancipation Proclamation, delayed until victory at Antietam, was not born of slowness, but of patience—and its timing gave it the force of destiny. Had he stripped his gears in haste, the machinery of freedom itself might have collapsed.

The meaning of Johnson’s words is thus both gentle and fierce. She reminds us that patience is not mere waiting in silence; it is active discipline, the conscious decision to restrain oneself when every fiber longs to act. To idle one’s motor is to trust that the moment of action will come, and that when it comes, it will be all the stronger for having been prepared. It is not the absence of power, but the mastery of it.

The lesson for all generations is clear: do not mistake impulse for courage, nor haste for strength. There are times when the greatest heroism lies not in charging forward, but in holding still, in keeping your spirit from tearing itself apart in fury or restlessness. Patience is the armor that protects the soul from self-destruction, the shield that preserves energy for the true battle to come.

Therefore, let your actions be thus: when anger rises, breathe and hold. When restlessness tempts you to force what is not yet ready, choose instead to idle your motor. Wait with wisdom, preserve your strength, and act when the hour is ripe. For as Barbara Johnson declared, to be patient is not to be weak, but to be master of yourself—and the one who masters himself holds the key to enduring peace and unshakable strength.