“Girl, why are you crying?”

At my friend’s question, I tried to stop myself from sniffling. “It’s just…” I began. “Girl, that’s how the Devil gets to you.”

I can practically hear my friend’s eyes rolling. “Girl, you are so sensitive. That is the last reaction I expected. It’s a horror movie, not a drama.”

I didn’t expect to cry either. The Deliverance (2024) is not groundbreaking for the horror subgenre of demonic possession. But this Lee Daniels–directed film (streaming on Netflix) brought a fresh perspective—black-centered, female-led, and a charismatic view of exorcism.¹

Like many similar films, The Deliverance claimed to be based on true events. You can even pull up pictures of the house on Google Earth, where the events of the story allegedly took place. Controversy followed its release on Netflix, as is typical for films of this genre—much like The Exorcist (1973) and the stories surrounding its production or Antrum (2018), which claimed viewers would meet their doom. Yet, something about The Deliverance felt different.

In the movie, Ebony Jackson (Andra Day) is separated from her husband, battling alcoholism, and supporting her mother, Alberta (Glenn Close), a “cougar” who recently became a born-again Christian, who walks crookedly while fighting cancer. Alberta’s former promiscuous lifestyle affected Ebony’s life as a child, causing strain between them that continued into adulthood. As such, this and other life choices led to her downfall. The social worker, Cynthia Henry (Mo’Nique), is determined to take the children away.

Throughout the film, the Jackson family is broken, and Satan prowls in this dynamic. People often overlook the fact that Satan comes to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10). One of the most powerful scenes shows the entity stomping its foot on Ebony’s neck as she struggles to fight it off. She is powerless until she calls out the name of Jesus.

That scene made me cry. When Ebony calls out to Jesus, everything changes. A light shines on her, and she is taken over by the power of speaking in tongues. This isn’t the place to delve into debates about this spiritual gift, but the movie’s portrayal of it struck me. She rebukes the entity in the name of Jesus, and things change.

What I appreciated most was Ebony’s transformation. She doesn’t just go back to her life as it was. This is where The Deliverance succeeds where Exorcist: Believer (2023) failed. You can’t have an encounter with God and just go back to business as usual. As 2 Corinthians 5:17 (KJV) tells us, “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.”

By the end of the movie, Ebony’s children are restored to her, and she considers reconciling with her husband. Because God wants to restore the family. In today’s world, especially among black Americans, too many children grow up without a father. Some blame over-policing. Others point to government interference or a lack of good role models. Even in the movie, the portrayal of black men was bleak.

At its core, the movie reminds viewers of the demonic attack against the family. In Genesis, God commands humanity to be fruitful, multiply, and build strong family units. Genesis 1:28 (KJV) says, “And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it.” Furthermore, Genesis 2:24 (KJV) states, “Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.” Ever since the Fall, Satan has targeted families, and this movie vividly shows that struggle.

But the film also shows us how the nuclear family—father, mother, children—is the backbone of society. Strong families make strong communities, and strong communities build healthy societies. And we can only have strong families with God’s help.

As Christ says, “I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly” (John 10:10 KJV). If we want strong families, we need to pray and turn to God. Only He can truly deliver them back to us.