Shame. On. You.

Being nice is an undervalued attribute.  I am not talking about being nice to the people who you work for, or to your friends, or to your family.  I am talking about being nice to the people who annoy you. The people who don't matter to you.  The people who serve you.  I will never forget that a dear male friend of mine was asked to be a date for a female friend of mine.  I told him all about my friend, including several of her attributes.  She's funny.  She's smart.  She's nice.  When I said she was "nice", his question was, "Wait, she's nice?  I know what that means.  How fat is she?"

All joking aside, being "nice" has become a catch all.  People say it without thinking.

Q: Do you like this vase?
A: Oh sure, it's nice.
Q: Do you like John?
A: Yes, he's nice.
Q: Would you like a cup of water?
A: Sure that would be nice.

It has been used so much that it has become almost meaningless.  It should not be code for someone being unattractive, or a fill in word you use when you can't think of anything else to say.  It should mean that you are kind.  It should mean that you have generosity and care in your heart.  It should mean that you behave in a proper and sweet way, no matter the circumstance.  It should be something that really sets you apart, if you are nice.

Sometimes I am not very nice.

I was waiting in line to get tacos from Jack in the Box on Saturday around noon.  Two tacos.  They cost $1.  I was sitting in line, in the warmth of my car, contemplating their non-meaty goodness, and I did have to sit for a moment.  The car in front of me was taking an above average time for a drive-in window.  My kids were whining.  Nothing new here.

Then out of the blue, I hear loud, loud honking, coming from an enormous backwoods, Texas-sized truck.  The guy honked... and then he honked some more.  It was jarring, disturbing and rude.  A moment later, as if the honking wasn't punishment enough, he leaned out his window and shouted at the Jack in the Box employees.  I won't repeat what he said, but the gist was that it wasn't "fast" food if it took too long.

When I pulled up to the window, I saw the guy who had been so polite to me over the ordering speaker when I asked for my $1 menu item.  He looked harried and concerned.  I apologized for the man behind me, not wanting to be mistaken as the rude customer.  I said the rest of us in line were not upset and we knew he was doing his best.  The man look ashamed.  He looked down and apologized to me over and over that we had to wait.  His humility and his shame broke my heart.  I wanted to slap the man behind me.  When I began to pull forward, Mr. Honky began honking again and started to yell.  I nearly slammed my car into park and walked back to pop the jerk in his fat face.

Maybe I should have.

I thought about it and realized it wasn't me, so I simply drove off.  In this day and age of smart phones, split second purchases, ordering online, take out, to go, and fast food, everyone is in such a rush.  People don't really think about the fact that we are all just people.  It's not just me who drives away and does nothing, and it's not just Mr. Honky, however much I'd like to demonize him--people in general aren't very nice anymore.

Lest you think that being rude to someone at a call center when they are annoying you is okay, it isn't.  Lest you think that being rude to a fast food person is acceptable, it isn't.  Lest you think lambasting the shopping clerk at the grocery store for a checkout mistake is acceptable, know that it is not.

A long time ago, there lived a man who was very, very kind.  He was the epitome of nice.  Jesus Christ was born to the earth as a babe and he lived here for over thirty years before mean men and women either crucified Him or let Him be crucified.  Compared to something like that, yelling at a slow fast food guy seems paltry.  Does it really matter?  It's not like you're really sinning.  I mean, they screwed up your hour.  Your day.  Your week.  Your month.  They deserve to know that they suck, right?

You're wrong.

Jesus is really clear in Matthew chapter 25.  He gives several parables but then He tells about something that isn't a parable at all.  He discusses what will happen when He returns to Earth in His Second Coming.  He says He will divide people into two groups--those that know Him and those that don't.  It's so simple, so clean.  The question is, while you're here on earth, how do you know which group you'll be in?

Those who knew Him did the following: they fed Him, they gave Him drink, they took Him in and they gave Him clothing.  When He was in prison, they came to Him.

But wait, the righteous ask, when did we ever do any of that?  We've never even met Jesus, not really, not face to face.  None of us would have crucified Him if we'd been there, right??  No way.  I have thought that several times.  Oh, I am just so different from those wicked men and women who crucified the Son of the Living God.

Jesus Christ Himself tells us how to make sure we are on the right side and His response should stop us in our tracks.  Matthew 25:40 reads: Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

Those righteous people didn't actually feed Jesus.  What sane Christian wouldn't give Him food, drink, clothing, or visit God's son, a perfect being, our older brother, if He was hungry, thirsty, exposed or in prison?  Of course we would.  He tells us here that doing it to the least of his brethren is the same as doing it for him.  He doesn't say, "Judge whether they're worthy."  He doesn't say, "If you really want to," or "if they're important."   In fact, it's quite the opposite. The less the person can benefit us, the more valuable our service becomes to our Savior.

As I drove away yesterday afternoon, steamed about the 'incident', I thought it seemed pretty obvious that I should have defended that poor maligned fast food guy.  He was really working at the very best job he could get.  He was the definition of one of the 'least of these', and someone was picking on him, making him feel small.  I was so angry.

But then the Spirit stepped in and gently reminded me that there wasn't just one of God's children in bad straits on that Saturday, but two.  The angry man, the rude man, the jerk who I wanted to punch was the second.  He was probably every bit as needful of my kindness, and my Christian charity.  The rude, the jerky and the misbehaved are often those who were taught to behave that way by experience, by the treatment of others or through hard lessons in life.  I can't see into his heart.  I can't know what he is going through.  I would have felt completely different about him if I knew his wife had recently been diagnosed with cancer or his mother had passed away.  Or what if he had just lost his job?  Or his furnace went out and he couldn't afford to repair it?

I shouldn't have wanted to punch him.  I should have wanted to hug him, or you know, knit him a sweater.

Obviously we can't help everyone around us.  I had four kids with me that day and I couldn't stop and hug the jerk or spend a real amount of time building up that poor, beleaguered man like I wanted to.  (Also, hugging someone you don't know unsolicited is not a course of action I am able to recommend in good conscience in this day and age...) But I will tell you that in our lives we can find the poor in spirit, or the physically needy.  We can uplift our family and friends at every opportunity.  We can be unfailingly kind to those we meet or the people our lives touch in any way.  In fact, we have been specifically tasked to do just that.  If you want to know God, if you want to be lifted up at the last day, you have to walk as He walked and that means serving the least of His children, day in and day out.

My prayer is that I will try a little harder to remember His command that what I do to the least of His brethren, I am really doing unto Him.  I hope anyone reading this can remember that, too.