Road Rage Resolves Righteously

It wasn’t until it was all over that I realized I wouldn’t normally even be taking that route through town. Heading for the Farmers’ Market to get my weekly vegetables, on the outskirts of town a random thought came to me: I shouldn’t take the usual way, past all the schools, stop signs, and 30 kph zones. It seemed to be an impression from the Spirit of God.

“Which way shall I go, Lord?” I asked aloud. An alternate route implanted itself in my mind. Well, I thought, there are a couple of stop lights that way, but maybe I’ll get lucky and catch them on green.

The first light was red when it came into view, but it changed before I got to it. The other one, just up ahead, was red also, but it, too, changed as I approached. Thank You, Lord! A vehicle up ahead was entering the intersection from my right, turning right on red. This was bringing him into my lane, but there was lots of leeway for that to happen safely. But as I came into the intersection, I realized that he had pulled over to the curb immediately after completing his turn and had come to a full stop. I wondered what he was doing.

Slow right down, came a prompting in my spirit. You have no idea what he might do. I dropped my speed from 50 kph down to 25 or 30. Then I noticed that his left signal light was on. Ah, I thought, he probably wants to turn across both lanes into the business on the opposite corner, as soon as I get past him.

Just as I was coming up alongside him, he turned left suddenly, right across my path. I jammed on the brakes and leaned on my horn, which caused him to hit the brakes as well. He jolted to a stop, broadside just a few feet in front of me. 

 His window was open; mine was closed, but I still had no trouble hearing what he hollered. “I had my ------- signal on!” he roared, using an f-bomb as a descriptive adjective. Then he gunned his engine and lurched across the other lane and into the parking lot of the business.

I was furious. That he would blast a woman in such a vulgar way, especially when he was in the wrong—well, it made me see red. I glanced at the clock on my dash. I could still get to the market before they closed, even if I stopped to straighten him out. No way was I going to leave him muttering self-righteously under his breath about women drivers. It would only take a minute. Checking carefully in both directions first, as I knew I was not really seeing clearly, I turned hard to the left and followed him across the other lane and into the parking lot. I yanked my keys from the ignition. Realizing how out of control my anger was, I paused long enough to say a quick prayer: “Help me, Lord!”

Wrapped up in that Help me! was a whole string of split-second thoughts. I submit to You, God. Don’t let me say or do anything to discredit You. Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer. The wrath of mankind does not produce the righteousness of God. Be angry, but don’t sin. Lord, put a guard over my mouth. I will bless those that curse me. (James 4:7; Romans 2:24; Psalm 19:14; James 1:20; Ephesians 4:26; Psalm 141:3; Matthew 5:44)

And then as I leapt out of my car and strode over to him, the confrontation unfolded with no conscious forethought on my part.

“Did I do something wrong there?” I challenged him furiously. My, my, I really am angry!

“I had my signal light on!” he roared back.

“I had the right of way,” I retaliated firmly.

“I was turning, and the light turned green,” he said. I didn’t know what he was getting at.

“Yes, the light had turned green. I had the right of way,” I repeated. “I just thank God that I had cut my speed by half before you cut in front of me.”

“I’m glad we didn’t have an accident,” he said, de-escalating a little. Maybe he realized suddenly that if I had been doing the speed limit, my radiator would right now be parked in his lap.

“I’m glad too,” I said. My voice was no softer, but I really was grateful that we had been spared bodily injury and vehicular damage.

“I’m sorry for being such a hothead,” he offered.

“I forgive you,” I said. I found myself extending my hand to shake his; he met me halfway. I heard myself say, “God bless you.” I said it sincerely, feeling God’s blessing moving through me as I spoke.

“God bless you too,” he said, his handshake firm.

I turned back toward my car.

“Have a good day,” he called after me.

I turned briefly over my shoulder. “You too,” I said.

 As I drove away, I was still so full of adrenaline from the close call and from my anger that I was shaking. I phoned Greg and interrupted his business and his busyness so that I could debrief a little. It was an ironic coincidence that just a night or two before, Greg had told me of witnessing something similar in a parking lot. Two drivers, a man and a woman, unsure of who was turning where, both had to jolt to a sudden stop. The man let loose a mouthful of obscenities at the woman, more vile than what I had just heard. Greg was so utterly stunned by the aggression and crudity that, although he thought about intervening, he couldn't get his thoughts together before both cars had gone on their separate ways. Perhaps that was one of the things that had fuelled my determination not to drive quietly away.

It took me only a few minutes to get my things at the market, and then I drove home. Now I found myself close to tears. I felt God’s nearness. That’s when I remembered how I had taken a different route than usual. I remembered how I had felt God’s nearness when each of those lights turned green. It reinforced in my heart that He was also very present in that near-accident and the confrontation that followed. He knew this was going to happen.

I was grateful that the Lord had been able to direct me, even through my anger, helping me to speak words that resisted the blame-shifting and vulgarity but that extended grace at the same time. 

And I was amazed at the warmth and sincerity that had descended on that man and me by the end of our exchange. Maybe he will continue to think about our encounter. I know I will.

Photo Credit: Thanks to an unknown photographer for this perfect pictorial expression of the incident. I found it online and could find nothing about it except that it “may be subject to copyright.”