The Rescue Dog Who Couldn't Leave the Cage

When Sarah Mitchell adopted a greyhound named Duke from a racing rescue in Abilene, Texas, she expected him to bolt through her backyard the moment she opened the door. Instead, Duke walked to the corner of the kitchen and lay down on the tile, pressing himself against the wall. For two years, Duke had known nothing but a narrow metal crate. The cage door was gone, but the cage still lived inside him.

For weeks, Sarah sat on the back porch with the door open, waiting. She didn't drag Duke outside. She just stayed near, patient, gentle, present. One Tuesday morning, Duke took three tentative steps onto the grass. He stood there trembling, nose twitching, discovering a world that had always been just beyond his bars. Within a month, Duke was chasing squirrels, rolling in the clover, pressing his head into Sarah's hand every evening — not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

Paul tells the Galatians that Christ has set us free, and we must not submit again to a yoke of slavery. But freedom is not merely the absence of the cage. Freedom is learning to walk in the Spirit — to step onto the grass, to bear the fruit of love, joy, peace, and kindness that only grows in open air. The door is open. The Spirit of the living God sits on the porch, patient and present, waiting for us to stop living as though the cage still defines us.