You never know what you’ll discover at Costco. One week it’s fall bulbs packaged in bags of 50; the next week, 425 Clorox wipes. And who knew that you needed 4.6 pounds of Walker’s shortbread if it were not for Costco. Such a service-oriented company.

My latest Costco discovery wasn’t in-store or online, but in print in its membership magazine. My discovery? World Kindness Week begins on Monday. Apparently, World Kindness Week came about when several humanitarian organizations came together on November 13, 1997, to promote “kindness in society.” The Random Acts of Kindness Foundation (yes, it’s a real thing) has its own ideas of promoting kindness—uplifting texts, buying coffee for a stranger or even yourself or letting the other driver merge into traffic with a friendly wave.

It’s a sad commentary on society that we need to promote kindness.

It’s an even sadder commentary on society that we seem to promote meanness instead, be it in posts, protests or in person. Too bad I can’t just make a Costco run and buy kindness in bulk, or hand it out like a free sample. I’d even make one of the bright yellow demo arrows: “Sampling today—kindness.”

Last Sunday, kindness didn’t come in bulk to me. It came by way of five-year-old Annabelle.

During large group time, I typically sit in a grown-up chair that provides an excellent view of wiggles and wayward feet pushing the person’s chair in front of them. This past Sunday, my grown-up chair and I were the only ones in my row.

Enter Annabelle. “Mrs. Triggs, can I sit with you?”

I took a quick glance at the girls she was leaving, but, no, everyone was fine. “Why of course, Annabelle, just bring your chair over.”

Annabelle settled in next to me, and we happily sang together and then listened to the Bible story teaching. I was no longer the only one in my row.

When Annabelle’s mother picked her up, I told her about Annabelle’s kindness and how fun it was to sit with her, but this sweet little story goes deeper than that. The next day, Annabelle’s father told me that she thought Mrs. Triggs looked lonely so she decided to sit with me.

World Kindness Week has nothing on tenderhearted Annabelle—and less than nothing on the kindness and tenderness of Jesus. Kindness, according to the prophet Isaiah, that would not break a bruised reed or quench a faintly burning wick (see Isaiah 42:20). Both bruised reed and faintly burning wick are barely holding on, barely noticeable . . . except by Jesus.

It makes gospel sense that Matthew is the one who recorded that Jesus fulfilled this prophecy of Isaiah’s (see Matthew 12). Matthew who lived life on the outside, and probably wasn’t the recipient of much kindness from God’s people. Then Jesus noticed him, maybe Matthew looked lonely.

Matthew took up Jesus’ invitation to follow him back to his house with other tax collectors and sinners. He took up Jesus' offer to follow him to the cross, the grave, the skies, because Jesus’ kindness—his mercy—transformed Matthew forever.

Gospel kindness will do that to a heart, making it tender to bruised reeds and flickering lights, outsiders and the lonely. And instead of offering a once-a-year sampling of kindness, it offers an invitation to a feast, an invitation to taste and see that the Lord is good.