You Don't Have to Hide: Finding Freedom Beyond Pornography
Sometimes the most powerful moment in a conversation is realizing that someone else has felt what you thought only you felt.
That’s one reason I love sharing stories on Pure Sex Radio. A story can become a bridge. A man who has spent years hiding suddenly hears someone describe his fear, insecurity, or shame, and thinks, “Wait. Me too.”
My conversation with counselor and coach Jordan Castille offered that kind of connection. Jordan shared about bullying, pornography, faith, setbacks, and the healing he experienced through honest relationships. Today, he helps other men walk toward finding freedom from places he once knew firsthand.
What stood out to me wasn’t simply that Jordan stopped looking at pornography. It was how he began addressing the pain underneath his behavior—and discovered he didn’t have to do that alone.
If you’re weary of promising yourself you’ll never go back, I want you to hear the hope in his story.
The Pain Beneath the Pattern
Jordan grew up in Texas, attended church with his family, and participated in gymnastics before becoming a high school cheerleader. In his school’s football-centered culture, being a male cheerleader made him a target. He described relentless bullying, including cruel comments questioning his masculinity and sexuality. His junior year became one of the worst years of his life.
Imagine carrying that into school every day: wondering what someone will say, anticipating rejection, feeling like you don’t belong.
For Jordan, pornography became a way to cope. Along with television and video games, it offered an escape from emotions he didn’t know how to process. But the relief didn’t resolve the loneliness or insecurity.
That distinction matters.
When I talk with men about pornography, I want to understand more than what they’re viewing or how often. I also want to ask: What is happening inside you before you reach for it? What are you hoping it will provide? What problem are you expecting it to solve?
Understanding that doesn’t excuse harmful choices. It helps us identify what needs attention beyond the behavior itself.
Jordan described feeling physically small and inadequate. In pornography, he saw men who represented the strength and masculinity he wished he possessed. For a moment, identifying with them seemed to fill something missing. Afterward, the old feelings returned.
His account was deeply personal, not a formula for explaining anyone else’s sexuality or pornography use. But it raises a valuable question:
What pain might you be trying to escape rather than bringing into the light?
Faith Didn’t Make Honesty Unnecessary
Jordan trusted Jesus near the end of that painful junior year of high school. Yet when he moved away for college, his struggle with pornography intensified. He attended church but didn’t become deeply connected, and his isolation grew.
I appreciate his honesty about that part of the story.
Sometimes we assume that if our faith is genuine, certain struggles should disappear. Then, when they don’t, we become ashamed of the struggle and ashamed that we’re still struggling.
Jordan eventually cried out to God for help. A friend invited him into a church small group, and he began developing relationships with people who were willing to share their own difficulties. Their vulnerability helped him believe that perhaps he could be honest too.
Notice what made a difference: not simply being in a room with Christians, but experiencing people who graciously made room for the truth.
Jordan didn’t reveal everything immediately. It took nine months of meeting with his small group leader before he disclosed the part he feared would bring rejection: he had been viewing pornography involving men. His leader responded with compassion, love, and prayer.
The rejection Jordan anticipated didn’t happen.
Instead, he experienced acceptance without having to keep hiding. That moment became an important part of his healing.
Marriage Wasn’t the Cure
As Jordan grew in faith and community, he experienced a significant stretch of sobriety. He later met his wife, Cherise, through their church, and they married. But marriage didn’t make him immune to old patterns.
About six months into marriage, familiar feelings began returning. Life stress, parenting, and conflict sometimes stirred his sense of failure, and he returned to pornography intermittently.
I asked about that because major life changes can press on places we haven’t fully addressed. Something good can still be difficult. Marriage brings opportunities for intimacy, but it also brings moments when our insecurities become painfully visible.
Jordan’s experience reminds us not to give marriage a job it cannot do.
A wife is not a recovery plan.
Sexual intimacy is not a substitute for learning how to face shame, process disappointment, or ask for help.
Jordan eventually attended a three-day intensive and became involved in recovery groups. He described those steps, along with working through his history of trauma, as an important turning point. At the time of our conversation, he reported five years without viewing pornography.
That is worth celebrating.
We can become so focused on stopping, preventing, and avoiding that we forget to rejoice when meaningful change takes place.
Finding Freedom Means Learning a Different Response
One thing I appreciated about Jordan’s account was that he didn’t claim triggers had disappeared. He said he now had better tools for responding when they came.
That’s a different picture of recovery than simply hoping life never becomes stressful again.
The goal isn’t to construct a life where nothing uncomfortable happens. It’s to become a man who can meet discomfort with honesty, support, and healthier choices.
Jordan described learning to examine the beliefs underneath his reactions: “I’m not one of the guys.” “Nobody loves me.” “Something’s wrong with me.” His recovery included prayer and counseling approaches that helped him bring those beliefs before Jesus and work through painful experiences.
The particular work each man needs will differ. What stood out was Jordan’s willingness to stop treating his behavior as disconnected from the rest of his story.
Here are a few questions worth considering:
What was I feeling before the urge appeared?
What am I believing about myself right now?
What do I need to share with someone safe rather than manage privately?
Those questions aren’t another test to pass. They’re invitations to pay attention—and to bring what you discover into relationships where healing can grow.
You Need More Than a Place to Attend
When I asked Jordan about community, his response was emphatic: men need it. He encourages the men he works with to seek meaningful connection, in person when possible and online when necessary.
But we also acknowledged something important: not every group is healthy, and not every counselor or coach has the training a man needs.
Jordan emphasized finding help equipped to address both unwanted sexual behavior and childhood trauma when that is part of the story. He also described the beauty of watching men in his groups become vulnerable and begin connecting outside their scheduled meetings.
That’s the kind of community I want men to experience—not merely somewhere to report whether they succeeded or failed, but relationships where they can become known.
For Jordan, genuine friendship helped answer a longing pornography never could: the desire to belong. He began experiencing connection without pretending to be someone else.
If your current approach depends on nobody knowing what’s really happening, consider whether secrecy itself has become part of what keeps you stuck.
Your Brokenness Doesn’t Have to Be the End
Today, Jordan’s story informs his work helping others. He described deep compassion for men who feel frightened, ashamed, or convinced they’re the only ones facing their particular struggle.
As I listened, I was reminded of the beauty of redemption: God can meet us in places we would rather conceal, bring healing, and use what we’ve learned to serve someone else.
That doesn’t make the harm good. It means the harm doesn’t have to have the final word.
And you don’t have to become a counselor or share your story publicly for your healing to matter. Learning to live honestly, receive help, and remain present with the people you love is meaningful work.
Take Your Next Step Toward Freedom
If Jordan’s story sounds familiar, I want to invite you to attend Be Broken’s Gateway to Freedom intensive.
This multi-day, Christ-centered experience helps men address pornography and other unwanted sexual behaviors by exploring their stories, identifying wounds and false beliefs, and connecting honestly with other men. It includes guided teaching, personal reflection, small-group community, and direction for continued recovery afterward.
An intensive isn’t a finish line or a promise of instant change. It can be a meaningful step toward doing deeper work with support.
Visit Bebroken.org/men to learn more about Gateway to Freedom, review upcoming intensives, and begin the registration process.
You don’t have to wait until you’ve figured everything out. Come ready to be honest, receive help, and take responsibility for your next step toward wholeness in Christ.
