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The mountain breeze carried the scent of pine and earth as Emil and Grandfather walked the winding forest trail. Birds fluttered overhead, free and unburdened. The path opened to a quiet clearing where the two sat on a fallen log, gazing at the sun breaking through the canopy.

“Grandfather,” Emil began, kicking at a pine cone, “if God gave us freedom, why do some people try so hard to take it away from others?”

Grandfather’s gaze followed a hawk circling in the sky. “Ah, Emil. That’s one of the deepest questions of life. You see, God created us free—free to choose, free to believe, free even to deviate.”

He pointed upward. “That freedom is sacred. It’s why Earth is unlike any other place in the universe. You’ll notice—we have no interference from other worlds, no aliens storming our skies. This planet is a sealed arena—a space to test human souls, not a spectacle for higher beings. God protects our moral agency. That’s how deeply He values freedom.”

“But,” Emil pressed, “if God values it so much, why do people… governments even… try to control what we say, what we believe?”

Grandfather looked at him with a serious softness. “Because they misunderstand the purpose of power. You see, God is not trying to build a flawless political system. His goal isn’t an Earth full of perfect governments. His goal is to raise people with ideal character. So He allows the test to unfold—even when some misuse their freedom to suppress others.”

He paused and let the wind settle between them.

“When people or leaders restrict others—forcing belief, silencing speech, criminalizing difference—they are not preserving truth. They are creating hypocrites. And that is their test. Will they use their power to nurture freedom, or to destroy it?”

Emil blinked. “So… those who silence others fail their own test?”

“Precisely,” Grandfather said. “A ruler who demands obedience without allowing thought—fails. A preacher who demands faith without space for doubt—fails. A parent who wants conformity without conversation—fails.”

He plucked a leaf and held it up to the light. “Freedom is like light for the soul. Without it, people may appear obedient—but inside, they wither.”

“And God wants real people,” Emil murmured, “not actors.”

Grandfather smiled. “Yes. He’s not interested in empty rituals or forced virtue. He wants sincerity that rises from choice, not fear. That’s why even the angels were puzzled when He made us free.”

“Because freedom can be misused,” Emil said.

“Yes. But it can also give birth to something even angels don’t have—chosen virtue.”

A hush fell over the forest. The hawk cried out overhead and vanished into the blue.

“So what should we do,” Emil asked, “when we see freedom being crushed?”

Grandfather’s voice was calm, but clear. “We must protect it—with patience, with words, and if necessary, with sacrifice. Not for ourselves only, but for others. Because the test of freedom is never just about us—it’s also about what we do when someone else’s is taken away.”

Emil looked up, the fire of understanding flickering in his eyes. “And that’s how we honor the test.”