My three-year old grandson has been staying with us this week. He is full of energy, and he loves to talk, and is very articulate for his age. When we went to pick him up on Monday, we got him strapped in to his car seat, and when I got back in the car and started the engine, his first words from the back seat were, with no context, "I'm a nice super hero."

Since that time we have had lots of conversations about super heroes, pirates and ninjas--all of which are on his resume. But he always makes sure to add that he is the nice variety of each of those. 

One afternoon this week, I came home for dinner and to see him for a little while before I headed back out to our small group. We went for a short walk, with the dog--mainly to give Nana a few minutes of quiet as she prepared dinner. I was pretty honored when, as we walked along, he said, "Rona is a nice dog. And Papi and Nana are nice too." Suddenly I realized I had made it into highly-regarded classification of "nice." Right there with the dog, the grandmother, and my grandson the pirate/ninja/super hero. 

That's a pretty big honor, especially these days, with all the incivility and snark and vitriol of social media, where kindness has become a pretty rare quality. It almost seems that we have forgotten how to be nice to one another.

I read a New York Times story about an undergraduate admissions counselor at an Ivy League school who goes through over 2,000 college applications every year. She wrote: "The applicants are always intellectually curious and talented. They climb mountains, head extracurricular clubs and develop new technologies. They're the next generation's leaders. Their accomplishments stack up quickly." But she's always on the lookout for one rare quality: kindness. And then she shared this true story. 

A student from a large public school in New England was clearly bright, as evidenced by his class rank and teachers' praise. He had a supportive recommendation from his college counselor and an impressive list of extracurriculars. But one letter of recommendation caught the admissions counselor's eye. It was from a school custodian.

Letters of recommendation are typically written by people who the applicant thinks will impress a school. This letter was different. The custodian wrote that he was compelled to support this student's candidacy because of his thoughtfulness. This young man was the only person in the school who knew the names of every member of the janitorial staff. He turned off lights in empty rooms, consistently thanked the hallway monitor each morning and tidied up after his peers even if nobody was watching. This student, the custodian wrote, had a refreshing respect for every person at the school, regardless of position, popularity or clout. 

In the end, with all his academic and extracurricular accomplishments, this student stood out mainly because he was nice. And he was admitted by unanimous vote of the admissions committee at that Ivy League school.

"Be kind to one another," wrote the apostle Paul in his letter to the church at Ephesus. Whether they be family or friends, people you know or don't know, the most important down to the least. You have a choice whether to be kind.

So be nice to someone today, even if you're not a super hero. You just might be surprised the difference you can make in their lives, just by showing them the kindness that God showed you through Jesus Christ. (Romans 2:4)

I'm praying for you, and I look forward to seeing you Sunday.

--Pastor Ken