For years, money was the reason I stayed silent. At the Housing Authority, every time I thought about speaking up, the fear of losing my paycheck stopped me. I told myself, If I lose this job, how will I pay my bills? How will I take care of my family? That fear of financial loss became a muzzle, and it cost me more than I realized.

Money has a way of holding people hostage when it becomes the reason for our silence. I stayed quiet, not because the environment was good, but because I was afraid of losing the little security I thought I had. What I didn’t see then was that money was not protecting me — it was controlling me. And when they illegally withheld my final paycheck, the truth hit me hard: my silence had never guaranteed safety. It had only delayed the inevitable.

The moment my paycheck was taken was painful, but it was also freeing. It showed me that I had been giving money a power it was never meant to have. I had been treating it like a master, when in reality, it is only meant to be a resource. Money can never be my foundation. It can never be my reason for silence. And it can never dictate the worth of my voice.

As I’ve walked through fasting and my soul reset, God has been reminding me that He is my provider, not a paycheck. In the wilderness, He fed His people with manna — provision that came daily, directly from His hand. They couldn’t store it up, they couldn’t control it, and they couldn’t predict it. They had to trust Him. That story has been sitting heavy with me because I realize I had been placing more trust in my employer’s system than in God’s provision.

When I began fasting, I felt the shift. The hunger, the letting go, the discipline — all of it reminded me that God sustains me in ways the world never could. He reminded me that my voice is worth more than any paycheck and that obedience to Him is worth more than silence for money. Every time I chose not to speak, I was trading truth for temporary comfort. And that is too expensive a trade.

I also see now how this lesson applies to other areas of life. How many times have we stayed in relationships, partnerships, or roles because of financial dependence or fear of loss? How often do we silence ourselves because we’re afraid of what walking away might cost? But the cost of staying silent is always greater. It costs your peace, your purpose, and often your soul.

The Housing Authority taught me that lesson the hard way. But it also set me free. I walked away realizing that my voice is not for sale. I cannot put a price tag on my truth. Money can support my journey, but it cannot silence my calling.

Now, I live differently. I trust that God will provide even when people try to withhold. I no longer allow fear of financial loss to dictate my choices. And I refuse to ever let money be my muzzle again.

Because my voice, my purpose, and my alignment with God are worth more than any paycheck.