Isaiah describes those who reach a state of maturity pleasing to God as “oaks of righteousness.” (Isaiah 61:3)

This word picture congers up the image of a massive oak tree with a trunk about a yard in diameter. When I lived on a mountain top in Arkansas, we had one of those right next to our house. The strongest wind could not make that trunk budge one centimeter. That portrays the character of the person Isaiah has in mind.

Temptations of all kind cannot make this person even flinch. Infidelity never enters his mind, nor does lying or unfaithfulness to his employer or cheating on his income tax. When the e-mail spam message offers seductive pictures, he deletes it without hesitation. You get the idea.

Not only is he unshakable in resistance to the negatives, but he is also stalwart in his commitment to duty in the positive areas. He is responsible, as good as his word, uses his capacities for God’s purposes, and is faithful in meeting domestic duties.

We see a person of moral might. A person who will not just tell a person what he wants to hear, but who will tell the truth, even when it may be offensive, like Joseph in the interpretation of the baker’s dream or Daniel in giving the meaning of the handwriting on the wall.

In the Beatitudes, Jesus promised that the person who hungers and thirsts after righteousness will be filled. In other words, if a person genuinely wants to be an oak of righteousness, Jesus will enable him to reach that goal.

The Sermon on the Mount is the ultimate success seminar. It is difficult to think of a more meaningful mark of success, a better aspiration in life, than this one.

The evangelical community conveys a different set of values. When the preacher shares how he lost his temper with the kids on the way to church (i.e. how he is a pussy willow of righteousness), the typical response is, “Oh pastor, it made me feel so good to hear you say that. Now we know that you are a real human being just like we are.”

That, of course, is hogwash. No church member ever doubted the humanity of his pastor. Church gossip makes that abundantly clear. What they really are saying is, “Pastor, thanks for lowering the standard. Now I can feel more comfortable about being a pussy willow of righteousness, too.”

Instead of striving to become oaks of righteousness, we prefer to sink to the lowest common denominator, with our “Christians aren’t perfect, just forgiven” bumper stickers. Raising the bar rather than lowering it, making our aim to become oaks of righteousness, might start an evangelical reformation.