Surviving the Most Uncomfortable Place in Recovery

There’s a stage in recovery that doesn’t get talked about enough—not because it’s rare, but because it’s hard to sit with. I touched on it in my blog last week.

It’s the stage where you finally see what’s going on…

and you don’t yet know how to live differently.

In learning theory, this stage is often called conscious incompetence.

In recovery, it can feel unbearable.

You’re aware now.

You see the patterns.

You notice the urges, the emotions, the stories you tell yourself.

And suddenly the coping strategies that used to work—substances, porn, control, numbing, distraction—are either gone or no longer allowed.

What’s left is you.

For many people, this is the most painful place in the journey.

Why this stage hurts so much

Conscious incompetence is the moment when:

  • Awareness increases faster than skill
  • Old coping systems are offline
  • New ones aren’t built yet
  • Your nervous system feels exposed

People often say things like:

  • “I feel worse than before recovery”
  • “I was functioning better when I was using”
  • “This is too much—I can’t do this”

That doesn’t mean recovery is failing.

It means you’re awake without protection yet.

For trauma survivors especially, this stage can feel dangerous. Awareness brings memory. Memory brings feeling. Feeling brings vulnerability. And vulnerability, in the past, often led to harm.

So your system panics.

That panic isn’t weakness.

It’s your nervous system saying, “I don’t know how to be here safely yet.”

How do we survive this place?

Not by white-knuckling it.

Not by “trying harder.”

Not by shaming ourselves into growth.

We survive conscious incompetence through containment, not mastery.

Here are a few anchors that help people stay:

1. Name the stage

When you can say, “This is conscious incompetence,” you stop interpreting pain as failure. Pain becomes information instead of a verdict.

2. Shrink the goal

This is not the stage for transformation.

It’s the stage for staying.

The goal isn’t thriving—it’s not acting out, not isolating, not giving up.

3. Borrow regulation

This stage is not meant to be lived alone. Co-regulation—through community, coaching, therapy, safe relationships—is often what keeps people alive here.

4. Allow sliding backward without quitting

Recovery is not a straight line. We don’t just move forward through the stages—we revisit them. Stress, loss, trauma reminders, exhaustion can all pull us back into earlier places.

Sliding backward doesn’t erase growth.

It reveals where care is still needed.

The quiet promise of this stage

Most people who stay long enough eventually notice something subtle:

  • the feelings don’t last as long
  • the urges don’t feel as overwhelming
  • the pauses get slightly longer

Skill begins to catch up with awareness.

What once felt unbearable becomes survivable.

What was survivable becomes workable.

And one day, without realizing it, you’re responding differently.

Not perfectly.

But more honestly.

More gently.

More like yourself.

If you’re in conscious incompetence right now, hear this clearly:

You are not broken.

You are not bad at recovery.

You are learning something that was never taught to you before.

And learning, at this stage, hurts.

But it also means you’re no longer asleep.

Beyond the Barna Numbers – Part 4

The Church’s Role in the Struggle with Porn

In this series we’ve been exploring what the recent Barna research reveals about pornography use in our culture and even within the church.

The numbers are difficult to ignore. Pornography use is widespread, and many pastors acknowledge that it is a significant issue within their congregations.

But the Barna study reveals another sobering reality.

While many church leaders recognize the problem, only a small percentage of churches—around 10%—offer any specific support or programming for those struggling with pornography or unhealthy sexual behavior.

In other words, the church sees the problem, but often does not know how to respond.

Why the Church Often Avoids the Topic

In recent decades many churches have become more comfortable addressing issues like drug and alcohol addiction. Recovery ministries, support groups, and partnerships with treatment programs are far more common than they once were.

But pornography and sexual behavior remain far more difficult for churches to address.

Part of the reason is discomfort.

Sexual struggles carry a level of shame that substance struggles often do not. Leaders worry about controversy. Conversations about sexuality feel risky. And many churches simply do not know what resources are available.

So the topic remains largely unspoken.

Yet silence does not remove the struggle. It only pushes it underground.

When the Church Feels Unsafe

For many people, the church is the last place they feel safe bringing this struggle.

I know this not just as a coach who works with men facing these challenges, but as someone who served in ministry and struggled in this area myself.

The messages we often receive in church can be confusing or discouraging.

Sometimes the message is subtle:

“Everyone struggles with this. Just try not to let it get out of control.”

Other times it sounds more direct:

“Real Christians don’t struggle with these things.”

Neither message creates a pathway to healing.

One minimizes the problem.

The other denies the reality of human struggle.

Both leave people isolated.

Understanding What We’re Dealing With

One important step forward is recognizing that pornography interacts with the brain in ways similar to other addictive substances.

It activates powerful dopamine responses and reinforces patterns of seeking relief through stimulation and escape.

Understanding this does not excuse harmful behavior, but it does help us respond more wisely.

When we begin to see this struggle through both a spiritual and neurological lens, we move from simple condemnation toward compassionate, informed care.

The Church Doesn’t Have to Do Everything Alone

Many churches hesitate to address this issue because they assume they must become experts in addiction, trauma, and mental health.

That’s not necessary.

Healthy responses often involve partnership, not expertise.

Churches can:

  • Provide safe spaces for honest conversation
  • Offer support groups and accountability communities
  • Connect people with trained therapists or recovery coaches
  • Partner with ministries that specialize in sexual addiction recovery
  • Equip leaders with basic training on shame, trauma, and addiction

The church does not need to carry the entire burden.

But it can become the place where the journey toward healing begins.

From Shame to Grace

Perhaps the greatest opportunity for the church is this:

We preach a message of grace.

But too often we operate as if shame is what produces change.

In reality, shame drives secrecy, and secrecy sustains addiction.

Grace, on the other hand, creates the safety required for honesty.

And honesty is where recovery begins.

A Different Kind of Church

Imagine churches where people could say:

“I’m struggling with porn.”

And instead of silence, shock, or dismissal, they heard:

“You’re not alone. Let’s walk through this together.”

That kind of church would not lower moral standards.

It would simply make healing possible.

And in a culture increasingly shaped by isolation and self-soothing, that kind of community may be exactly what people are searching for.

The Four Stages of Competence in Recovery: Why Feeling “Bad at Recovery” Might Mean You’re Learning

Recovery often gets talked about like a straight path: gain insight, learn some tools, feel better, move on. When that doesn’t happen, people assume something is wrong with them.

But recovery follows the same learning curve as any other major life skill.

A helpful framework is the four stages of competence. When we apply it to recovery, it explains why the process feels so uneven—and why discomfort often signals growth rather than failure.

1. Unconscious Incompetence

“I don’t know that I don’t know.”

This is where many people start. Life is manageable enough, but there’s little awareness of how much effort it takes just to get through the day. Coping strategies—substances, behaviors, control, numbing, distraction—feel normal and necessary.

This stage isn’t about ignorance. It’s about adaptation.

These patterns once helped us survive. For many, especially those with trauma histories, they were the best options available at the time.

You can’t question what you’ve always had to do to feel okay.

2. Conscious Incompetence

“Now I see it… and I don’t know how to change it.”

This is often the most uncomfortable—and sometimes unbearable—place in recovery.

Awareness turns on. You notice urges, emotions, and patterns in real time. The problem is that old coping systems are gone or no longer allowed, and new skills aren’t built yet.

People often say:

  • “I feel worse than before recovery”
  • “I know what I should do, but I can’t do it”
  • “This feels like too much”

What’s happening is simple but painful: awareness has grown faster than capacity.

For trauma survivors, this stage can feel unsafe. You’re awake, exposed, and unsure how to stay regulated with what you’re feeling. Many people quit recovery here—not because they don’t care, but because they care deeply and don’t yet know how to survive this level of awareness.

This is not failure.

It’s learning without mastery.

3. Conscious Competence

“I can do this… but I have to think about it.”

Over time, skills begin to catch up.

You start pausing before reacting. You use tools intentionally. You reach out instead of isolating. But it takes effort. You have to slow down and stay present.

This stage can feel frustrating because nothing is automatic yet. But this is where new neural pathways are being formed. Progress here is deliberate, not dramatic—but it’s real.

4. Unconscious Competence

“This is becoming who I am.”

Eventually, something shifts. Triggers still exist, but regulation happens faster. Boundaries feel more natural. Setbacks don’t spiral as far or as long.

This stage doesn’t mean you’re cured. It means recovery responses have become more default than forced. You’re still human—you’re just less hijacked.

One last truth

We don’t move through these stages only once.

Stress, loss, trauma reminders, or exhaustion can pull us back into earlier places. Sliding backward doesn’t erase growth. It shows where care and support are needed again.

If recovery feels hard right now, consider this:

You may not be bad at recovery.

You may be exactly where learning happens.

And learning what we were never taught takes time.

Porn as Emotional Regulation, Not Moral Failure

Beyond the Barna Numbers – Part 3

Why the Numbers Keep Climbing

In Part 1 of this series, we looked at the latest Barna research and the rising rates of pornography use — even among practicing Christians.

In Part 2, we explored the idea that sexual energy hasn’t disappeared in our culture — it has been diverted, often into isolated, self-soothing behaviors.

Now in Part 3, we need to ask a deeper question:

What if pornography use is not primarily a moral failure — but an emotional regulation strategy?

Because until we understand what porn is doing for people, we will keep fighting the symptom while the cause remains untouched.

Behind Every Behavior Is a Feeling

I regularly tell clients:

Behind every behavior is a feeling.

Behind every feeling is a need.

If that’s true, then the rising porn numbers aren’t just a behavior problem.

They’re an emotional health signal.

Porn often helps people:

  • Numb anxiety
  • Escape stress
  • Soothe loneliness
  • Quiet shame
  • Regain a sense of control
  • Avoid vulnerability

It regulates the nervous system.

It works quickly.

It’s private.

It doesn’t require relationship.

In an emotionally overwhelmed culture, that’s a powerful combination.

The Emotional Climate Behind the Statistics

The Barna study tells us how many people are using porn.

But alongside those rising numbers, we’re also seeing increases in:

  • Anxiety
  • Depression
  • Loneliness
  • Social comparison
  • Fear of rejection
  • Relational instability

We are not just more sexual.

We are more dysregulated.

When people lack the skills or safety to process emotions in healthy ways, they will find something that helps them cope.

Porn is accessible, immediate, and neurologically effective — at least for a moment.

The question becomes less about morality and more about mental health.

When We Only Treat the Symptom

Imagine someone who takes a pain reliever every day for chronic headaches. The medication works — it dulls the discomfort and allows them to function. But if the headaches are being caused by something deeper, numbing the pain won’t solve the problem.

The relief is real.

But it isn’t healing.

When we focus exclusively on stopping porn without addressing the emotional drivers beneath it, we’re doing the same thing.

The behavior quiets anxiety.

It softens loneliness.

It numbs shame.

But the feelings return.

And when they do, the nervous system goes back to what brought relief before.

If we don’t address the underlying emotional needs, the numbers will continue to climb — because the pain driving them remains untreated.

Shame Doesn’t Produce the Change We Think It Does

The church preaches grace.

But too often, we practice the idea that shame produces change.

We assume that if someone feels bad enough about their behavior, they’ll stop.

But shame:

  • Increases secrecy
  • Increases isolation
  • Increases emotional distress
  • Increases the need for self-soothing

If pornography is being used to regulate shame, responding with more shame only deepens the attachment to the behavior.

This may help explain why even sincere believers — people who love their faith and want freedom — continue to struggle.

The issue isn’t always desire.

It’s often dysregulation.

What the Rising Numbers Are Really Telling Us

The Barna numbers are not just a morality report.

They are an emotional formation report.

They reveal:

  • A culture struggling to regulate stress
  • A generation unsure how to process loneliness
  • Communities uncomfortable talking about desire
  • Churches unsure how to address emotional pain

If we want the numbers to change, we have to address the emotional ecosystem that sustains them.

Recovery is not simply about eliminating a behavior.

It’s about helping people develop the capacity to:

  • Feel without fleeing
  • Connect without collapsing
  • Regulate without isolating
  • Experience grace without hiding

Until we understand the role emotions play in mental health and spiritual formation, we will continue to search for ways to escape discomfort.

Porn will remain one of the easiest options available.

Coming Next: Part 4

If shame doesn’t produce lasting change, what does?

In the next post, we’ll look at the role the church can play in this work.

Because the church has something culture does not:

A theology of grace.

A framework for confession without condemnation.

A vision of embodied community.

But if we preach grace and practice shame, we undermine the very healing we hope to see.

Part 4 will explore what it would look like for the church to become a place where emotional honesty and spiritual formation work together — not against each other.

Safety in Uncertainty: Why Recovery Feels So Hard – and What Actually Helps

One of the most uncomfortable parts of recovery isn’t cravings, triggers, or even relapse fear.

It’s uncertainty.

In recovery, so many of the old guarantees disappear. You don’t know how long the discomfort will last. You don’t know if relationships will heal. You don’t know if urges will return. You don’t know how life will turn out if you stay honest instead of escaping.

And for many of us, that not knowing feels unbearable.

That doesn’t mean something is wrong with you.

It means your nervous system is doing exactly what it was designed to do.

Why Uncertainty Feels Like a Threat

The human brain is wired for predictability. When things are uncertain, the nervous system reads that as danger. Anxiety increases. The body prepares to fight, flee, freeze, or numb.

Addiction and compulsive behaviors often provided a form of false certainty. Even when the consequences were painful, there was predictability. You knew how it would feel. You knew how quickly it would work. You knew how to escape.

Recovery removes that illusion.

Suddenly emotions last longer. There’s no immediate relief button. Outcomes aren’t guaranteed. And the body reacts before the mind can reassure it.

Many people don’t relapse because they want pleasure. They relapse because they can’t tolerate not knowing.

Why Willpower Isn’t Enough

We often approach recovery with the idea that if we just try harder, think better, or believe stronger, we’ll be okay.

But uncertainty doesn’t live in the thinking brain.

It lives in the body.

That’s why logic alone doesn’t calm anxiety. You don’t need better arguments—you need experiences of safety. Until the nervous system settles, the urge to control, escape, or numb will feel overwhelming.

Recovery isn’t about eliminating uncertainty.

It’s about learning how to feel safe inside it.

Tools That Help Us Experience Safety

1. Regulate the body first.

Before solving anything, slow the nervous system. Longer exhales, feet on the floor, noticing physical support, or placing a hand on your chest can all help. A regulated body creates options. A dysregulated body demands escape.

2. Name what’s happening.

Uncertainty becomes more manageable when it’s named. “I’m feeling anxious.” “I don’t know how this will turn out.” “Part of me wants certainty right now.” Naming reduces shame and interrupts automatic coping.

3. Shrink the time frame.

Anxiety grows when we project too far into the future. Instead of asking questions your nervous system can’t answer, focus on the next right step. What do you need in the next ten minutes? Who can you stay connected to today?

4. Choose connection over control.

Addiction isolates. Recovery invites connection. You don’t have to explain everything or fix yourself—sometimes saying “I’m not okay” is enough. Not everybody deserves your story, but somebody has to.

5. Practice self-compassion.

Harsh self-talk increases anxiety. Kindness increases capacity. Discomfort is not failure. Struggle does not mean you’re doing recovery wrong. Often, it means you’re doing it honestly.

A Different Measure of Progress

Recovery doesn’t remove uncertainty.

It builds the ability to stay present without escaping it.

Uncertainty isn’t a sign that something is wrong.

Avoidance is.

When we stop demanding certainty and start building safety, real growth becomes possible—one grounded step at a time.

Sexual Energy Wasn’t Eliminated – It Was Diverted:

What the Barna Numbers Don’t Tell Us About Porn, Isolation, and Desire

In my previous post, I shared recent research from Barna showing just how widespread pornography use has become—both in our culture and inside the church. The numbers are sobering. But numbers alone don’t tell the whole story.

What the data doesn’t fully explain is why so many people—teens and adults alike—are turning away from real-world intimacy while sexual content, porn, and self-soothing behaviors continue to rise.

One phrase keeps coming back to me as I sit with this moment in history:

Sexual energy wasn’t eliminated. It was diverted.

A Culture That Pushes Us Into Isolation

We are being driven into isolation by many forces at once:

  • Screens replacing presence
  • Relationships becoming more transactional
  • Fear of being fully known
  • Shame we don’t know how to talk about

Isolation doesn’t just make us lonely.

It weakens our ability to escape shame.

Shame cannot be healed alone.

It requires safe relationship—being seen without being rejected.

When that safety disappears, the nervous system looks for relief anywhere it can find it.

Self-Soothing Becomes the Substitute

Pornography, masturbation, compulsive scrolling, hookups, and even emerging AI sexual companions all share something in common:

They offer relief without relationship.

They allow us to regulate anxiety, loneliness, boredom, or stress without risking:

  • Vulnerability
  • Rejection
  • Commitment
  • Being affected by another person

This is not about people becoming less sexual.

It’s about sexuality being trained to function in isolation.

Why Hookup Sex Fits the Same Pattern

At first glance, hookup culture can look like the opposite of isolation. But psychologically, it often reflects the same fear.

Hookups offer:

  • Physical closeness without emotional exposure
  • A clear exit before attachment forms
  • Pleasure without long-term responsibility

For many, it’s not that they don’t want connection.

It’s that commitment feels dangerous.

Commitment requires trust.

Trust requires risk.

And risk feels unbearable when shame is already high.

Porn and AI Intimacy: The Illusion of Connection

Porn, AI sex bots, and digital sexual experiences simulate intimacy while removing its most essential elements:

  • Mutuality
  • Presence
  • Repair
  • Growth

They allow desire to be expressed without being shared.

But because they are empty of relationship, they quietly reinforce the very loneliness they are meant to soothe.

What begins as comfort often ends as deeper disconnection.

The Cost Is Delayed, Not Avoided

We see this play out later in life as:

  • Difficulty with real intimacy
  • Fear of emotional closeness
  • Porn dependency
  • Sexual shutdown in committed relationships
  • Confusion between arousal and attachment

The decline in teen pregnancy and partnered sex may look like progress on the surface. But it may also reflect a generation learning to manage desire alone rather than with others.

The consequences don’t disappear.

They just show up later.

A Different Path Forward

Recovery—whether from addiction, compulsive behaviors, or shame itself—is not about eliminating desire.

It’s about re-learning how to regulate in relationship.

Healing happens when:

  • Desire is named without shame
  • Struggle is met with compassion
  • Community replaces secrecy
  • We learn that connection, not control, is what actually soothes us

The church has an opportunity here—not to shame or withdraw, but to become a place where isolation is interrupted and people are gently guided back toward embodied, relational life.

Closing Thought

We are not becoming less sexual.

We are becoming more isolated.

And until we address isolation, shame, and the loss of safe connection, porn and self-soothing behaviors will continue to make sense—because they are solving a problem we haven’t yet learned how to face together.

Learning to Trust Again

Trusting Myself, Others, and God

Learning to trust again is rarely simple.

If trust feels slow, confusing, or even unsafe for you, that doesn’t mean you’re failing at recovery. More often, it means trust was broken somewhere along the way.

Most of us were not taught how to build trust.

We were taught how to survive.

Survival teaches us to manage risk, avoid pain, and protect ourselves. Trust, on the other hand, requires safety, consistency, and truth. When those things are missing, trust doesn’t disappear because we’re broken—it disappears because it no longer feels wise.

Recovery isn’t about forcing trust or shaming ourselves for not having it. It’s about understanding how trust actually works and how it gets rebuilt over time.

In my experience, that rebuilding usually happens in three interconnected areas: trusting myself, trusting other people, and trusting God.

Trusting Myself

For many years, when someone asked me a question, my first thought was never, “What is the truth?”

That option didn’t even show up.

My first thought was usually:

What do I need to say to make them happy?

What answer will keep the peace?

What will keep me from getting in trouble?

This wasn’t because I was intentionally deceptive. Somewhere along the way, truth stopped feeling safe.

When truth feels unsafe, people learn to manage impressions instead of living honestly. Over time, that does real damage. Others may sense something is off—but for me, the deeper damage was internal. I stopped trusting myself.

Because if I’m not telling the truth, even I don’t know who I am or where I stand.

Here’s a distinction I had to learn the hard way:

Self-trust isn’t about confidence. It’s about integrity.

I couldn’t jump straight to “I’m trustworthy now.” I had to earn my own trust back. That meant telling the truth when it was uncomfortable, when it disappointed people, and when it exposed weakness or failure.

It started in small, ordinary ways:

  • Saying “I don’t know”
  • Saying “I’m not okay”
  • Admitting when I messed up
  • Letting go of the habit of softening the truth

Many of us have learned how to share just enough to protect ourselves if we’re accused of lying—while still not telling the whole truth. Every time I chose honesty instead, I rebuilt a little self-trust.

If you struggle to trust yourself, that’s not a verdict on your character. It’s information. It usually means honesty hasn’t felt safe in the past.

Trusting Others

Trusting other people creates a real tension. We don’t want to be naïve—but we also don’t want to be alone.

So it needs to be said clearly: not everyone deserves your trust.

Trust is built through patterns, not promises.

At the same time, there’s danger on the other side. When trust has been broken enough times, we can start living as if no one is safe. That’s where isolation creeps in.

Isolation doesn’t feel dangerous at first. It feels quiet. Controlled. Predictable. But over time, isolation feeds addiction. It cuts us off from the connection recovery actually requires.

Recovery doesn’t mean trusting everyone. It means learning discernment.

Trusting others doesn’t mean full access—it means appropriate access.

Some people get information.

Some people get vulnerability.

Some people get your story.

Not everyone gets everything.

If you find yourself isolated, that doesn’t mean you’ve failed. More often, it means you’ve been hurt—and your system learned to protect you.

Trusting God

For many people, trusting God is the most complicated part.

Especially if God was presented as easily disappointed, primarily angry, or only accessible through performance.

Here’s something that matters deeply:

Trusting God includes being honest with God about your lack of trust.

God does not require sanitized prayers.

Scripture is full of raw, honest conversations with God. In Psalms, David cries out,

“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”

He remembers God’s faithfulness and still feels abandoned in the present. Both realities exist at once.

In Job, Job tells God,

“You have turned cruel to me.”

God never rebukes Job for this honesty. In fact, God later says Job spoke more rightly than his friends who tried to defend God with tidy explanations.

And in Lamentations, God is described as blocking escape and shutting out prayer—yet the book is called Lamentations, not Unbelief.

Lament is faith that refuses to disengage.

Trusting God often grows not through answers, but through staying in the conversation—especially when it’s painful. God can handle the truth about how you feel about Him.

Moving Forward

Trust is not rebuilt all at once.

It’s rebuilt in small, consistent steps.

You don’t rebuild trust by forcing yourself to feel safe. You rebuild trust by telling the truth and taking wise steps toward connection.

If trust feels fragile right now—whether with yourself, others, or God—you are not alone.

And you don’t have to figure this out by yourself.

Which area of trust are you working on right now—yourself, others, or God?

Porn, the Church, and What the New Barna Numbers Are Really Saying

For years, pornography has been talked about in the church as a private struggle—something affecting a small group of people behind closed doors. The latest research suggests that picture is no longer accurate.

A new national study conducted by Barna Group in partnership with Pure Desire Ministries paints a sobering—and clarifying—portrait of pornography use in both American culture and the church.

What’s most striking is not just how many people are using porn, but how comfortable many have become with it—and how unprepared the church remains to respond.

The Big Picture: Porn Use Is Now the Norm, Not the Exception

According to the new Barna/Pure Desire research (data collected in late 2023 and released in 2024):

  • 61% of U.S. adults report viewing pornography at least occasionally
  • 54% of practicing Christians say the same

Barna defines practicing Christians as those who identify as Christian, attend church at least monthly, and say their faith is very important to their lives.

In other words, porn use is no longer something happening “out there.” It is happening inside the church at rates that closely mirror the general population.

Gender and Frequency: Breaking the Stereotypes

The study also helps correct some outdated assumptions.

Among practicing Christians:

  • About 75% of men report using pornography
  • About 40% of women do as well

While men still report higher use overall, women’s porn use has increased steadily since earlier Barna research. This matters, because many church conversations—and recovery spaces—are still built almost exclusively with men in mind.

Frequency is also important:

  • Roughly one-quarter of Christian porn users report using it weekly or more

This suggests that for many, porn is not an occasional stumble—it’s a regular coping system.

Perhaps the Most Concerning Shift: Comfort With Porn

One of the most revealing findings has less to do with behavior and more to do with belief.

Among Christians who use pornography:

  • Nearly half say they are comfortable with their level of use
  • Only about one in five express a clear desire to stop completely

Even more striking:

  • About 62% of Christians believe a person can regularly view pornography and still live a sexually healthy life

This represents a significant cultural and theological shift—not just in society, but within the church itself.

Pastors Are Not Immune

The research also looked at church leaders, and the results are sobering:

  • 67% of pastors report a personal history of porn use
  • 18% say it is a current struggle

Many pastors privately acknowledge the scope of the problem, yet very few feel equipped—or safe enough—to address it publicly.

And Yet… Almost No One Is Getting Help

Despite the widespread nature of the issue:

  • 84% of porn users say no one is helping them
  • Only about 10% of Christians say their church offers any kind of programming or support related to pornography

At the same time:

  • A majority of Christians say they want their church to address the topic in a meaningful, healthy way

This reveals a painful disconnect: the need is high, the desire for help is real, but the response is minimal.

How Does This Compare to the 2016 Barna Study?

Back in 2015–2016, Barna released its original research often referred to as The Porn Phenomenon. At that time:

  • About 55% of U.S. adults reported porn use
  • Christians were noticeably less likely than the general population to engage
  • Porn was more widely viewed as morally and relationally harmful

So what’s changed?

Since 2016:

  • Overall porn use has increased modestly
  • The gap between Christians and non-Christians has narrowed
  • Acceptance and normalization of porn has increased significantly
  • The church’s practical response has not meaningfully grown

The problem isn’t just that porn is more accessible. It’s that our beliefs about it have shifted, often quietly and without reflection.

What This Means for the Church—and for Recovery

These findings challenge us to rethink our approach.

Shame-based silence doesn’t work.

Moral outrage without support doesn’t work.

Pretending this is a “men’s issue” doesn’t work.

What does help is what many in recovery already know:

  • Safe, honest community
  • Trauma-informed conversations
  • Addressing why people turn to porn, not just that they do
  • Leaders willing to speak with humility rather than fear

Pornography is rarely about sex alone. It is often about regulation, escape, loneliness, stress, and unmet needs. Until the church is willing to engage at that level, people will continue to struggle in isolation—even while sitting in the pews.

A Final Thought

The question facing the church today isn’t “Is pornography a problem?”

The data has already answered that.

The real question is whether we will continue to respond with silence and stigma—or with honesty, courage, and care.

Healthy Boundaries Without Guilt

For many people in recovery, the word boundaries sounds good in theory—but feels uncomfortable in practice.

We know boundaries are important, yet the moment we try to set one, guilt rushes in. We worry about hurting someone, disappointing them, or being seen as selfish. So instead of setting boundaries, we overextend, stay silent, or say yes when we really mean no.

Healthy boundaries are not about pushing people away. They’re about staying connected to yourself.

Why Boundaries Feel So Hard

If guilt shows up when you try to set a boundary, there’s usually a reason. Many of us learned early in life that love was conditional. We were praised for being agreeable, helpful, or low-maintenance. Saying no felt unsafe. Disappointing someone felt dangerous. Other people’s emotions felt like our responsibility.

In addiction and trauma, those patterns deepen. We learn to manage relationships by keeping the peace—even when it costs us our honesty or emotional health.

So when you start setting boundaries in recovery, your nervous system may react with guilt or fear. That doesn’t mean the boundary is wrong. Often, it means you’re doing something new.

What Boundaries Actually Are

A boundary is not a punishment.

It’s not control.

It’s not an ultimatum.

A healthy boundary is a clear expression of what you need to stay emotionally regulated, spiritually grounded, and relationally honest.

Boundaries don’t tell other people what they must do. They clarify what you will do.

Examples of healthy boundaries sound like:

  • “I’m not able to have this conversation late at night.”
  • “I need to take a break if voices are raised.”
  • “I care about you, and I need to take care of myself too.”
  • “That doesn’t work for me.”

Notice what’s missing—long explanations, defensiveness, or justification. Healthy boundaries are calm, clear, and respectful.

Boundaries and Recovery

Boundaries are essential in recovery. Without them, resentment builds. Emotional exhaustion sets in. Old coping behaviors start to whisper again.

Many relapses—emotional or behavioral—don’t begin with craving. They begin with poor boundaries. Overcommitting. Avoiding hard conversations. Ignoring internal warning signs.

There’s a simple truth worth remembering:

Resentment is often the result of unclear or unspoken boundaries—not bad people.

Boundaries protect your recovery, your relationships, and your peace.

When Guilt Shows Up

Guilt doesn’t automatically mean you’re doing something wrong. Sometimes guilt means you’re stepping out of an old role—caretaker, fixer, peacemaker—and into a healthier one.

It’s also important to know this: people who benefited from your lack of boundaries may struggle with your growth. That doesn’t make you selfish. It means the system is adjusting.

You are not responsible for managing someone else’s emotional reaction to your boundary. You can be kind without abandoning yourself.

Practicing Boundaries Without Guilt

Before saying yes, pause and ask:

  • Do I have the capacity for this?
  • Will I resent this later?
  • Am I choosing this freely, or out of guilt or fear?

Boundaries may feel uncomfortable at first, but discomfort is not the same as danger. Over time, boundaries build trust—both with yourself and with others.

Healthy boundaries don’t push people away.

They make healthy connection possible.

Politically Right or Sober

Over the past several years, I’ve noticed a pattern with some of my clients in recovery. It cuts across political parties, belief systems, and personal backgrounds. When people become deeply immersed in politics—especially through social media—something often begins to shift. Emotional regulation weakens. Anxiety increases. Anger becomes more accessible. And for some, sobriety quietly starts to erode.

This isn’t about being politically engaged or caring about the world. It’s about what happens inside us when our nervous systems are constantly fed fear and outrage.

Modern political content isn’t designed to inform—it’s designed to activate. Fear and anger keep people scrolling, sharing, and engaging. Social media algorithms quickly learn what you respond to and then deliver more of the same. Over time, your feed becomes an echo chamber that reinforces your existing beliefs and emotions. It can begin to feel like everyone agrees with you—and that those who don’t are dangerous, ignorant, or immoral.

That illusion is powerful. And it’s destabilizing.

I want to say this clearly: this has been a struggle for me too. There have been seasons where I thought I had this under control. I believed I could stay informed, engage thoughtfully, and not let it affect me. But in the current political climate, I’ve had to admit that some old patterns have resurfaced. I’ve noticed increased agitation, reactivity, and distraction—signals I’ve learned to take seriously in recovery.

So I’m having to set new boundaries. That includes how closely I follow political news, how much time I spend on social media, and whether I participate in political discussions at all. Not because I don’t care—but because my emotional health and sobriety require honesty and humility.

In recovery, emotional sobriety matters just as much as behavioral sobriety. When fear and anger dominate our internal world, we move into survival mode. Our bodies shift into fight-or-flight. The part of the brain responsible for reflection, restraint, and long-term thinking goes offline. Old coping strategies—the ones addiction wired into us—become more tempting.

I often ask clients a simple but uncomfortable question:

“Would you rather be convinced you’re politically right, or would you rather be sober?”

It’s not a trick question. It’s a recovery question. And It’s a question I am asking myself a lot recently.

Sobriety requires humility, emotional regulation, and connection. Political outrage thrives on certainty, reactivity, and division. Those two states don’t coexist easily. When we live on a steady diet of fear and anger, something has to give—and it’s often our recovery practices that slip first.

Recovery is about learning to live in reality rather than emotional extremes. Algorithms don’t care about your sobriety. They care about engagement. If fear and anger keep you hooked, that’s what you’ll be fed—no matter which side you’re on.

Choosing sobriety sometimes means choosing boundaries others don’t understand. That includes boundaries around political content. Not because you don’t care—but because your life, your healing, and your recovery matter more than being constantly outraged.

So the question is worth revisiting—again and again:

Would you rather be convinced you’re right…or would you rather be sober?