When the Cage Burns, the Soul Still Stands

For a long time, I thought faith was about fitting neatly into a box. I was told what to believe, how to live, and where the lines were. At first, I thought that box kept me safe. But over time, it didn’t feel like safety—it felt like control.

And that control broke me. It distorted what should have been healing, and instead it crushed trust, silenced my questions, and almost smothered my spirit. In truth, it destroyed parts of me I’ll never get back.

But here’s the miracle I didn’t expect: what burned away in that fire wasn’t my soul. It was the cage.

Because the soul doesn’t live in boxes. The soul was never meant to be managed, manipulated, or made to obey systems built on fear. The soul is wild, free, and woven into the same patterns we see in the stars, the trees, and even the numbers that keep circling through our lives.

That’s where I found God again—not in rules, not in rigidness, but in the unboxed beauty of rhythm and design. In the way the same numbers kept reappearing. In the way the mountains feel like home. In the way a melody reaches me deeper than words ever could.

So yes, parts of me were destroyed. But the parts that burned were the cage. What’s left is real. Raw. Untamed. And somehow now more whole than I’ve ever been.

Reflection Prompt:
Where in your life have you confused a cage for safety? And if that cage burned, what would remain?