Lately it feels like the roads are getting meaner.

Headlines about road rage are everywhere, and it is no longer just statistics—it is personal. Last week on I-65, the same highway I usually drive home, a man was shot and injured in a road-rage incident. The same stretch of pavement I travel every day became the place where someone’s drive home nearly became their funeral.

Closer to home, my mom was driving yesterday when her car began breaking down with my twin boys with her. The throttle failed, and she was simply trying to get safely off the road. You would hope that in a moment like that someone might stop and ask, “Are you okay? Do you need help?” Instead, a man rolled down his window, yelled at her to get off the road, and added a few obscenities for good measure.

No compassion. No concern. Just anger.

I wish I could say I have always responded differently.

Not long ago, someone came flying up the shoulder on I-265 during rush-hour traffic and cut me off. In that split second I did not feel like offering grace. Something in me immediately flared up. The flesh was ready to take over. I did not quietly bless them in Jesus’ name. I hit the gas. I wanted to get around them. I wanted them to know exactly how wrong they were. It was a moment where I was no longer fighting the traffic but fighting my own nature.

I did not make an obscene gesture, but the thought crossed my mind. For a brief moment, my heart was no different than the rest of the world—ready to defend my little square of asphalt, ready to answer frustration with frustration. Every time someone responds to anger with anger, we are adding another layer of stone to our hearts.

When the Holy Spirit checked me in traffic and I actually listen, back off, breathe, and pray for the person, that is the heart of flesh in action, my heart. It’s the Holy Spirit at work replacing the fight with peace.

He reminded me that I was not simply fighting traffic; I was fighting my own flesh. My soul settled, I backed off, and I continued home.

That moment reminded me of something.

The roads are simply exposing what is already beneath the surface.

Impatience.

Entitlement.

Anger.

The quiet belief that my time, my lane, and my agenda matter more than everyone else’s.

Road rage may show itself through horns, hand gestures, yelling, and even violence, but underneath all of it lies something much deeper.

This is not merely a traffic problem.

It is a heart problem.

Scripture tells us that battles like these are not solved by trying harder. They are spiritual battles. They are armor-of-God battles. They are moments where we desperately need Jesus to take hold of our hearts before our emotions take control of us.

The truth is, some of us do not simply need better behavior.

We need a heart transplant.

God says in Ezekiel 36:26–27:

“And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules.”

Ezekiel 11:19 echoes the same promise:

“I will remove the heart of stone from their flesh and give them a heart of flesh.”

Notice what God is saying.

He is not telling us to simply try harder.

He is promising to do surgery we cannot perform on ourselves.

If you are in a season where you feel hard, numb, angry, bitter, cynical, or simply worn down, that does not automatically mean you are disqualified. It may mean your heart is crying out for the Great Physician.

That is where we have to ask ourselves some difficult questions.

Am I drifting?

Am I slipping back into old patterns?

Am I allowing my heart to become harder one compromise at a time?

Or am I willing to let the Lord put me on His operating table and deal with what I have been trying to hide?

Pharaoh stands in Scripture as a warning.

He repeatedly heard God’s voice, repeatedly witnessed God’s power, and repeatedly hardened his own heart. Eventually, God confirmed Pharaoh in the hardness he continually chose.

Hebrews 3:15 warns us:

“Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts.”

I do not want that.

You do not want that.

None of us want to keep saying “no” until our hearts no longer recognize His voice.

This is exactly why Paul tells us in Ephesians 6:10–13:

“Be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God… For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood… Therefore take up the whole armor of God.”

Our greatest battle is rarely the driver beside us.

It is the war within us.

One of the enemy’s favorite schemes is to slowly harden our hearts—to make bitterness feel normal, cynicism feel wise, and anger feel justified until we stop noticing how far we have drifted.

But God offers something far better.

He does not ask us to white-knuckle our way into becoming softer people.

He says, “Let Me remove the heart of stone. Let Me give you a heart that can feel again. Let Me fill you with My Spirit so you actually desire to walk with Me.”

Our responsibility is not to pretend the hardness is not there.

Our responsibility is to surrender it.

If you hear His voice today, do not ignore the warning light on the dashboard.

Do not wait until your heart becomes comfortable with saying “no.”

Instead, pray:

“Lord, take this heart of stone. Give me a heart of flesh. Fill me with Your Spirit. Help me stand in Your strength instead of my own. Teach me to respond with the grace You have shown me—even in traffic.”

Because the greatest danger on the road may not be the driver in the next lane.

It may be the condition of our own hearts.

Your sister in Christ Sunnye ☀️