Last night a 2-year-old child died in the next suburb. As we watched TV we were vaguely aware of a background noise of wailing sirens, then on the early morning radio we heard the news.

A grandfather pulled his car into the roadside to let a bicycle pass, before turning into his driveway. The driver of the car behind became angry, and insults were exchanged over a faulty taillight. As the family got out of the grandfather's car, now parked on their driveway, the enraged second driver turned and sped into the back of it. Unfortunately the 2-year-old, by now between the two cars, was crushed, and died a few hours later.

My heart goes out to the parents. They will be enduring agonies of grief, despair, remembrance, remorse, picking up the child's toys, holding his clothes, yearning desperately to turn back the clock and once more hold him in their arms.

What of the second driver? It's easy to condemn him, to vilify him, but he too is probably experiencing some of the same emotions, wishing he also could turn back the clock, undo this dreadful unintended consequence, wondering how he can live with the result of his road rage, still hardly able to comprehend the outcome of his fury and lack of control...

I agonize for him. I've never killed a child, but certainly at times my temper horrifies me, and in a similar way it's usually over such trivial occurrences.

One day I waited patiently in a crowded carpark while a driver pulled out. Before I could drive in, some smartypants young man rapidly took the space, jumped out and was gone, leaving me to wait for someone else to leave. The charitable thing to do was to believe he had not known anyone was waiting, but I didn't feel at all charitable, I felt murderous.

We are all victims of the society in which we live, resenting the constant rush and speed, the lack of control we have over many aspects of our lives. It gets to us, doesn't it? I know that if I don't allow myself plenty of time to get to my destination, I'm inclined to take risks, cut corners, and sometimes those corners have been too close for comfort. If a disaster occurs, whose is the responsibility? All too often we blame the traffic, the lights, any of the circumstances surrounding us. Isn't the onus really on us?

It all starts in the brain—the thoughts. Once they are out of control, watch out (James 1:19-20; Proverbs 29:22; Ephesians 4:26). Even the tongue is only secondary to what the mind is dwelling on (James 3:8). And all too often we fail to discipline and rule our thinking (Ephesians 4:31), and the anger, the bitterness, the resentment grows and flourishes. We feed on it and, without intention, it erupts into heedless action or speech.

And then, suddenly, it's too late to make amends. We have hit out, physically or verbally, caused an injury, or broken a relationship, all because we failed to govern our thoughts.

We yearn to turn back the clock and start again, to erase the consequences of our words or actions. But that is impossible, and it's at such times we realize how very desperately we need the fruit of God's Holy Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23), that crucifying of the flesh with its affections and lusts, and its replacement with God's thinking.

So, to return to the incident with which I started this article, there but for the grace of God go I. Only God's mind in me can stop me from acting on the same impulses that led to the second driver's actions, the results of which are irreversible. I am indicted of guilt as surely as he is, and as sorely in need of God's grace.