Today, my husband Macon witnessed not one, but two acts of road rage: one on the way to work, and another on the way home. Two different moments, two different people, same explosive response. And I can’t stop thinking about it.

Something is shifting in our culture. You can feel it, can’t you? People seem more easily agitated. The smallest inconvenience becomes a personal offense. The brakes between feeling and reacting between frustration and fury are wearing thin. And in a world that’s weary, wounded, and overwhelmed, it’s not surprising that more and more people seem to be living on the edge of eruption.

But as followers of Christ, what do we make of this?

Scripture calls self-control a fruit of the Spirit not just a personality trait, but a spiritual marker of maturity and transformation (Galatians 5:22-23). But in our fast-paced, emotionally exhausted world, that fruit feels harder to find. When our nervous systems are taxed and our souls are running on fumes, regulation takes a back seat to reaction.

And we’re seeing it everywhere: in traffic, in politics, on social media, even in church lobbies. The collective mood is frayed. The pressure is real. And many people are walking through life with more tension than peace, more fear than trust, more grief than they know how to name.

Once, there were clearer social boundaries that made people think twice before acting out in public. But those fences are fading. We’ve seen authority figures lash out with impunity. We’ve watched harshness be rewarded with attention. The world feels less safe, and people are less afraid to behave badly.

But as believers, we’re not called to mirror the world’s tone. We’re called to offer a different way: a kingdom way. “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind…” (Romans 12:2). That renewing isn’t just about how we think, but how we react, how we relate, how we respond under pressure.

Here’s the deeper layer: much of today’s rage is really grief in disguise. When people feel powerless in their finances, disillusioned by politics, isolated in their relationships, or flooded by unhealed trauma, they often lash out at whatever’s nearby. A rude driver. A slow cashier. A family member who says the wrong thing.

But rage doesn’t heal what’s hurting underneath. Only love does.

In Matthew 5, Jesus tells us we are “the salt of the earth” and “the light of the world.” That’s not just poetic, it’s profoundly practical. In a world growing darker with aggression, we are meant to shine with compassion. In a culture losing its flavor through fear and disconnection, we are meant to preserve what’s holy, good, and kind.

So what if we started there?
What if we slowed down both on the road and in our spirits?
What if we gave grace when we were cut off, offered a smile instead of a scowl, and let the peace of Christ rule in our hearts (Colossians 3:15) even when others are ruled by chaos?

That’s not weakness. That’s witness.

You might not be able to prevent the road rage, the social division, or the next round of bad news. But you can take a breath. You can remember who you are. You can resist the pull to become hardened by a hard world.

Because love is still stronger.
Peace is still possible.
And Jesus is still our Prince of Peace, not just in a future kingdom, but in the everyday, ordinary mess of traffic, tension, and tight schedules.

So today, may we drive differently.
Speak differently.
Live differently.

Not because it’s easy, but because He is with us, and we belong to Him.