Whether you are navigating the bumper-to-bumper madness of Bengaluru, dodging potholes the size of baptismal pools in Chennai, inching through Mumbai’s never-ending sea of honking chaos, or breathing in more dust than oxygen on Delhi’s pollution-choked roads, Indian traffic has a way of revealing what is really in our hearts.
The unpredictable lane changes, unspoken battles for “the right of way,” and the ever-present urge to honk can test even the most patient among us.
According to a report by TomTom, Kolkata, Bengaluru, and Pune are the second, third, and fourth slowest cities in the world. In Bengaluru, for instance, the average speed is 17.6 km/h.
But driving (or simply sitting in traffic) is not just a logistical challenge. It is one of the most practical tools the Lord uses to sanctify us. It exposes our impatience, our quickness to judge, our self-righteousness, and our struggle to extend grace in the everyday frustrations of life.
Patience is the Fruit of the Spirit, Not a Personality Trait
In Indian traffic, you will wait. You will wait at signals that feel longer than Old Testament genealogies. Or you will wait behind an auto driver negotiating an extra five rupees. Sometimes, you will wait as an entire herd of cows asserts its constitutional right to block the road.
And as you wait, something else happens. You start to feel the frustration rising within. We expect life to move at our pace. We assume others should drive the way we think they should, and we quietly believe our time is more valuable than theirs. When things do not go as we expect, impatience takes control.
Yet, we are called to cultivate patience. God wants us to trust that even when life feels unpredictably out of (our) control, he remains sovereign over all things—including the everyday frustrations on the road.
How often do we respond to delays with irritation rather than endurance?
Moreover, Scripture tells us that patience is the fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22); it is not a natural personality trait. Yet, how often do we respond to delays with irritation rather than endurance? How quickly do we excuse our impatience while condemning the “lack of discipline” in others?
If we do not recognise everyday frustrations as opportunities for growth, we will miss seeing God’s sovereign hand at work in every part of our lives. Instead of resisting these moments, we ought to receive them as reminders that his sanctifying work is often done in the ordinary, inconvenient, and uncomfortable parts of our day. And if Indian roads teach us anything, it is that our need for grace runs far deeper than we often realise.
Self-Righteousness on the Streets
Often, Indian traffic makes us moral commentators. It is astonishing how quickly we evaluate the character, intelligence, and even worthiness of others based on their behaviour on the road.
The auto driver swerving unpredictably? Careless.
The two-wheeler cutting in? Selfish.
Indian traffic is like a mirror. It reveals how little patience I actually have.
The pedestrian crossing at the wrong place? Indisciplined.
Meanwhile, I am a law-abiding, responsible citizen. I follow the rules. I would never drive like that.
Except, that is not how righteousness works.
Every time I judge the “bad” drivers around me while overlooking my own impatience, entitlement, or lack of grace, I am behaving like the Pharisee (Luke 18:9-14).
The Pharisee thanks God that he is not like other men—sinners, cheats, rule-breakers. The tax collector, meanwhile, beats his chest and pleads for mercy. Jesus says it is the tax collector, not the Pharisee, who goes home justified.
The truth is, we all break the rules in some way. We all justify our failures while condemning others. And every time I elevate my own “law-keeping,” I ignore the fact that I violate God’s ways in other areas of life, even if I may keep them on the road.
Grace in the Chaos
The truth is, Indian traffic is like a mirror. It reveals how little patience I actually have. It exposes my quick temper, entitlement, and subtle belief that I am better than others.
And yet, if I truly recognised God’s sovereignty, I would see that he meets me in the everyday chaos of life—even on the road. In his providence, he uses Indian traffic to reveal my weaknesses and, henceforth, works to shape me into the likeness of Christ.
Perhaps Indian traffic is not just a burden but an opportunity—a place where we can practice grace, where we can choose patience over anger and humility over self-righteousness.
So the next time I feel my grip tightening on the steering wheel in irritation, maybe I should remember to “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves” (Phil. 2:3).
Even that guy who just cut me off.
