Souls, Not Silos

Six years ago, as I fast-walked our neighborhood, lost in thought and captivated by the beauty of flowering trees, I tripped.

My left foot caught a dip in the road and my ankle buckled, turning outward. I fell hard and heard a tiny pop, and quickly discovered that I was unable to stand. Thankfully our sixteen-year-old son was home, and moments after I phoned, he arrived and helped me home.

My ankle swelled and bruised, so I borrowed a brace from a friend before purchasing a heavy boot to stabilize my tendons and bones. I realize now that I should have visited a doctor (Monday morning quarterbacking is apparently my strong suit). Regardless, it took months to heal, and even longer for me to resume fast walking.

When I finally fired up my exercise regime, my ankle shrieked, a weeping which I remedied by slipping my foot back into the boot.

Relief.

The boot became a silo of safety. As long as I wore it, I felt protected.

The downside?

It was cumbersome and sidelining. I could not skip or jog but limped through my days, keeping the stress tucked inside as life blew by with the comings and goings of our large family.

Now, years after the mishap, I walk pain-free.

Well, mostly.

Hours before a rainfall, as the summertime humidity rises and swells and threatens to suffocate, I am surprised to detect a vague, solemn ache in that ankle of mine. It rises from the depths, fragile.

An unwelcomed reminder of my fall.

And I wonder: Should I scour the attic for my boot?

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We are not meant to suffer alone, are we? A protect-myself-at-all-costs type of existence. At a core level, most of us are quick to nod and affirm such sentiments. But regardless of this head knowledge, building high and sturdy walls often feels like a safer bet.

The siloed life.

Found on dairy farms, silos were built to keep large volumes of hay and grain fresh. Bovine breakfasts and dinners were carefully preserved and guarded from rain, sleet, and snow.

How I love the semblance of a grain silo. In fact, I remember childhood drives, a green pushpin dotting the map of our teeny tiny New England town and another marking the journey’s end in a suburb of Illinois. My brother and I sat buckled in the backseat of our Volkswagon Rabbit, a brown economy car without the pleasure of air conditioning. We traveled a thousand miles to visit my paternal grandparents on a road trip that sent us cruising by the gorgeous farmlands of the Midwest.

The two of us —so small!— flung our hands out the back windows to capture the breeze, dipping our arms up and down, up and down. As the wind kissed our faces and blew our hair, I counted barns and silos. A country girl to the core, I felt my heart soar at the peaceful sight of dairy cattle grazing hillside near burnt-red barns and impenetrable silos.

Silos rising tall and stately.

Something about those formidable structures whispered safe.

//

God fashioned us to be human beings, not silos, but people with frail flesh, beating hearts, and eternal souls. All of those grainy aches stored and stirring about inside each of us are meant to be stewarded, sifted through the sieve of Scripture, burdens to be shared in Christian fellowship.

Galatians 6:2 – Bear each other’s burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ.

Walking in transparency alongside fellow believers is a priceless gift; a blanket of gracious care stitched with threads of truth-telling, prayer, admonition, correction, and encouragement. God is purposefully chiseling and sanctifying us, his precious people, often in the realm of fellowship.

Be discerning, be careful. I am not suggesting opening your heart’s door indiscriminately. Guard it and guide it toward truth-tellers, toward true Christians. There are many false ones, those who have the appearance of godliness but deny its power. God’s Word instructs us to avoid such people.

Happily seek fellowship with people eager to obey God and Scripture. It takes time, wisdom, and discernment to choose good company. Once we have been duped, the betrayal is a stoning that results in bruises, swelling, and scars.

While it might be tempting to curl inward and sink back into your boot, resist this impulse. Pray and forge ahead, trusting God to lead you into beautiful fellowship with genuine Christians, whose hearts are soft and tender, whose eyes are bright with joy and truth, and whose hands are eager to do the good works God has ordained. (Ephesians 2:10)

A silo is a keeper of grain, not heartache. Such a structure is not built to serve as an echo chamber for the weary, battered heart.

Run to God, the Keeper of your soul.

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My second book is releasing soon!