It’s Time to Quit Porn, Part 2: Seeing Yourself for Who You Are

Last month, Texas became the seventh state to be blocked by Pornhub, the most popular porn website in the world. The move by the site’s parent company, Aylo, was in response to a newly passed Texas law that requires purveyors of online pornography to implement age-verification processes on their sites. Specifically, the bill calls for anyone visiting an “adult” website to prove their age by submitting a state-issued ID or credit card.

Laws like this one are long overdue. The idea that, as a society, we have given underage kids mostly unfettered access to the dark world of online pornography should disgust everyone. Sadly (but unsurprisingly), our state legislature’s decision – and Aylo’s reaction to it – has thrown many people into a state of panic and grief.

One Texan on X (formerly Twitter) went viral when she wrote: “No abortions. No Pornhub. I hate Texas.” Another person added, “Pornhub is blocked in Texas? How do y’all live like that?”

Apparently, many Texans have chosen not to live like that. In the week following Aylo’s decision, VPN services – which allow people online to “appear” and to access online content as though they were someplace else – reported a 50% spike in VPN traffic out of the Lone Star State.

Many in the media have also seemingly rushed to the porn industry’s defense with polemic puff-pieces like this (which insists that “Pornhub isn’t against age verification”) and this (which calls the Texas law protecting kids “part of a troubling trend”).

So this is where our culture is now: many (if not most) of us are more interested in protecting access to the porn industry than we are in protecting children from the many harmful, well-documented negative effects of porn. This should come as no surprise to those of us who’ve read the Bible and who understand how sin works. What’s happening with sex and pornography in our culture is textbook spiritual warfare aimed at depriving our children of their innocence, diminishing our human dignity, and destroying our most intimate relationships.

The good news is that we have a foolproof strategy for overcoming spiritual darkness: the gospel of Jesus Christ can set us free from the power of sin. In Part 1 of this series, I shared about the realization that, for me, was the first step in my journey toward leaving porn in the past: Seeing Porn for What It Is. Here, I’ll share my next step: Seeing Myself for Who I Am.

Once you choose to see porn for what it is (a ridiculous, humiliating joke), the next step is learning to see yourself for who you are. One of the most profound turning points for me was years ago when my wife accidentally discovered what I’d been up to. She was hurt and heartbroken, obviously, but by the grace of God, she was still able to collect herself, look me in the eyes, and ask how she can help me fight this battle.

I’ll never forget the words that instantly fell from my lips: “I need you to treat me like I’m sick.”

And without even knowing or understanding the depth of my sin, without asking more questions like, “How long have you been lying to me?” or “Why am I not enough for you?” my wife came closer to me, put her arms around me, and said, “We can get through this. God can put us back together.”

That was the first time I ever thought of myself as sick. I was reminded of the great old hymn, There Is a Balm in Gilead:

Prior to confessing my “disease,” I spent years trying to convince myself and everyone else that I was a “pretty good guy.” I’ve since learned that “Pretty Good Guy Syndrome” is one of the deadliest diseases that men face. If you think of yourself as a pretty good guy, you’ll manage to justify all manner of sins.

“I’m a pretty good guy…I deserve to treat myself sometimes…”
“I’m a pretty good guy…this secret habit of mine isn’t hurting anybody.”
“I’m a pretty good guy…but I have needs…”
“I’m a pretty good guy…so good, in fact, that instead of bothering my wife with my needs, I’ll isolate myself and leave her alone…”

Pretty-Good-Guy Disease is every bit as pernicious as a porn habit, because it prevents you from seeing just how sick you’ve become.

That consequential night years ago, God helped me to see that I was sick. My mind and heart were sick, and as my teary-eyed wife threw her arms around me, I knew I needed help. During that time, I was drawn to David’s pleas in Psalm 51:

For some people trying to overcome sexual sin, the help they need might come in the form of 12-step groups and therapy, but for me, it came in the form of strict boundaries, raw, honest accountability, and the intentional pursuit of strong male friendships. I committed to things like never traveling alone (solo travel was a trigger for me), going to bed when my wife went to bed (instead of staying up late by myself), giving over all my pertinent passwords for my phone, email, and social media accounts (to safeguard against as many potential “triggers” as possible), installing a program called X3Watch (online accountability software), and actively cultivating meaningful friendships with a handful of solid, Christian guys.

For what it’s worth, in my case, pursuing strong friendships with Christian men who know me, love me, and hold me accountable has been the single greatest game-changer in my fight against sexual sin.

It was tedious, sure. But that’s always the case when you’re treating an illness. Only when I came to the end of myself and confessed my sin-sickness was I able – with the help of God, my wife, and others – to map out a treatment plan. With a plan in place, I was able to pursue healing. It took time, it wasn’t easy, and there were a few setbacks, but I’m so blessed to say that I’ve been porn-free for a decade now. And the best part is that, over the past several years, God has given me the opportunity to help dozens of other men fight the good fight and win.

This was an answer to prayer because, like David in Psalm 51, I told God that if He helped free me from my sin…