When I reflect on deliverance, what it means and how it applies to my own life, I’m less struck by the act of deliverance and more struck by the feeling of peace and serenity that follows such “delivering.” To me, deliverance rarely occurs as a onetime event or a random epiphany, but more as a daily practice—and I do mean practice—of surrender and acceptance, bringing peace with what is and with what I cannot change. Surrendering is an underrated and courageous act made possible by faith.
Until recently, my own personal world has felt largely within my control. I do A to get B. I sprinkle in some C if I really want D, and if I don’t put in enough E, well it’s my own fault the output resulted in F. Call it luck, but my life has felt rather formulaic, within my control and empowered. For this, I am fortunate.
As it naturally would, my world changed a few years ago. An adored family member bravely revealed serious issues with substance abuse and depression. Those of you in this situation know—A plus B does not equal C. Family dynamics are messy. Your own attempts to control or mitigate this terrible disease are often fleeting and counterproductive, maddening and heartbreaking. Which gets us back to deliverance…for me, deliverance from this struggle lies in surrender and faith. Faith that something greater than me that can heal my loved one--not me. Deliverance begotten by surrender and followed by peace.
Morgan McHugh, lives in the Rice Military area with her husband Michael and her mischievous cat, Duke. She works as communication and change consultant for Towers Watson and is also pursuing an MBA at Rice University. A Georgia native and Presbyterian, she’s relatively new to St. Stephens and the Episcopal tradition. Morgan has been searching for a progressive parish that’s active in the Houston community and is very happy to have landed at St. Stephens.