Silage season in the Nestucca Valley.  . . the time of year when dairy farmers cut their most precious commodity crop -grass. Grass is worth a lot here: It is nearly impossible for a dairy farm to operate in the black on the Oregon coast without it. It saves dairy farms tens of thousands of dollars on feed costs every year. And it better, because it one of the most demanding seasons of a farmer’s year. Not only must the farmer continue to manage and work his dairy, he must coordinate the silage harvest. Many farmers harvest their own crops to save on the service fees, which can easily amount to ten thousand dollars.  

I have had some intimate experiences with this silage business as a farmer’s wife. While I have purposely managed to not make myself useful as a truck or tractor driver, I have still helped with this aspect on the farm. From supporting my husband, and his family,  through food and drink deliveries in the field or just picking up some of the farm work that they cannot complete, I have put in some serious hours during silage season. And once all the silage for the season is put up, there is still more work.

Knowing this,  that the trying of your faith worketh patience. James 1:3 

There are several different ways to store the grass harvest, but most often it simply gets piled up. We call it a silage pit. It generally consists of a cement floor surrounded by cement blocks. The grass is piled and compacted over and over. Often times the grass towers several feet above the cement blocks with a slope to the front of the pit. When the harvest is finished the pit has to be covered with plastic. The plastic is held down by tire sidewalls. This is where I usually come in. Yes, for several years I would climb that black tarp covered grass hill with a truck sidewall in each arm, and carefully place the tires all over the tarp. I have clocked it with my running app, and it can be the equivalent of 5 miles over 8 hours with 40 pound weights. It usually took my husband and I two full days of this work. Did I mention the tarp is black plastic? Needless to say this is a hot, dirty job.

And, then in 6-8 weeks we have silage: Fermented grass with layers of mold on top. Yes, this what the farmer reaps after all his hard work a pile of feed that has to have the mold shoveled off before he feeds it to his animals. What does this mean? You guessed it! Lots more hardwork. 

But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect, and entire, nothing wanting. James 1:4

Perhaps you have seen that beautiful, green freshly cut grass being hauled in the silage trucks to the farm. Sure it means doubling up an allergy medicine during silage season, but it smells good and looks pretty. Trust me, the finished grass silage looks nothing like that. It doesn’t smell like it either.

Now I will give you that silage done right doesn’t smell too bad. However, when you put your silage in a pit, there is always some spoilage. Spoilage is not pretty. It doesn’t smell good either. In my mind, moldy grass silage can smell as bad a manure. And it is worth less. The spoilage does not make as good of fertilizer as manure, but that it all it is good for.

I didn’t always have much contact with the moldy grass silage. Until the day my husband asked that question which is the bane of all farmer’s wives: “Don’t you want to spend some time with me ?” For a farmer’s wife this only means one thing–work. And, trust me, there are not a lot of clean jobs on the farm, and none of them are romantic. I have often thought my life could have had its own season on the show Dirty Jobs.

Of His own will begat He us with the word of truth that we should be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures. James 1:18

This particular morning would bring me the privilege of shoveling off the mold off the silage pit. I experienced silage in a whole new way. But, as often happens with me and farm work, I experienced a truth of God in a whole new way. 

You see I when you are attempting to pick up your cross and follow after Christ you are always having to put down some things. Let’s face it crosses are heavy, and you cannot go around carrying a cross while carrying a nap sack full of things. Good things or bad things, there is just no room for anything else on your back, but that cross. Unfortunately, I still have some things in my nap sack. Actually, I have quite a few things. And it gives me a discouraged heart. A heart that is not sure it can keep that cross on its back. And at that moment on top of a 20 ft pile of molded, fermented grass I saw my heart.

Wherefore lay apart all filthiness and superfluity of naughtiness, and receive with meekness the engrafted word which is able to save your souls. James 1:21

If you have never seen an open grass silage pit, it is a sight to behold. The top layer consists of fluffy, white moldy grass. This grass flakes off easily in large shallow clumps. It is quite easy to throw off to the ground. But the next layer is kind of grey nastiness that is a lot heavier, and harder to throw down to the floor of the pit. This grass still comes off in nice sized chunks. You almost think you are to the good fermented grass at this point, but you have been deceived. On top of the edible, fermented grass is the slimy black mold. Not only is this mold dangerous to stand on, but in order not to waste good feed you must carefully scrap off just the black. Finally, you get to feed worthy of your dairy cows,and you leave it. Well, at least for a week or so. Then the tarp must be pulled back a little more, and you begin the whole process again. There is also that bit of nastiness on the pit floor that has to be carried away to the manure pile.

But, be ye doers of the word and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves. James 1:22

And so my inward life is like that grass silage pile. When Christ saved me, and gave me a clean heart, it was fairly easy for me to let Him get rid of the top layer of sin. Obviously bad stuff. The stuff everyone can see. But the next level, was a a lot more work for both of us. It took several different commitments on my part. It took being faithful to read and study His word. It took joining a body of local believers, called a church. It took living with an out loud testimony for Christ. It was some times a painful process, but mostly just work. But now, there is that black, slimy stuff. The stuff that touches all the good work Christ has done in me, and threatens to spoil it. This is deep painful stuff. The roots of all my selfish sin. The stuff that is so much a part of me I don’t know how to live without it. This is the stuff that makes me feel like collapsing under that cross. 

As I was breathlessly shoveling a way at that moldy silage I could hear my Savior pleading with me to let Him take off another layer of mold. I could see the mold. It was nasty, useless, and dangerous. But, it was a part of me. I reminded Him that I had already lot Him remove something deep a few months ago. That mold was guilt. I didn’t know how to live without it. It was a part of me I put down at the altar at youth camp that summer–as counselor! That had been humiliating enough. It had been terrifying. I wasn’t ready to have my heart’s mold shoveled at any more, not yet. Couldn’t we just leave it alone for a while longer?

For if any be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like unto a man be holding his natural face in a glass: For he beholdeth himself and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was. James 1: 24

And being the gentleman He is, He left me shoveling at that stinky rotten silage to ponder my choice. I was choosing hurt rather than healing, black night versus beautiful light, sin instead of righteousness. I wanted to keep my silage pile of life the way it was. As if in leaving decaying matter to the open air of life could stop the fungus from growing on top of it, and keep it from multiplying in a myriad of directions. But it was my choice. And in that moment I choose to hold onto my 20ft deep pile of insecurity versus receiving the security of the Rock. 

Life is like a silage pile. We all have rotting parts, inside and out. Sometimes we try to keep our rottenness covered with black tarps, and sealed with truck sidewalls. But the rotten juices flow out from beneath, and we are not fooling anyone but ourselves. We even plug nose to our own stench and try to point out the rotten juices from other silage piles. And, God forbid, someone else would actually pull back their tarp and start to shovel away the mold. They just lay out all their life  for everyone to see. But beneath the varying molds, and layers of foulness is something good. Something that can feed others to produce a life giving substance. Maybe it IS time to open that silage pit.

But whoso looketh into the perfect law of liberty, and continueth therein, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, this man shall be blessed in his deed. James 1:25

That day I wasn’t ready for another gentle scrape from my Savior, but I knew the day would come that I would grow weary carrying around that sickening mold. And the question remains, why carry it another day?