The church gave you a porn filter.
A buddy system.
An awkward “accountability partner”
with weekly texts that never really helped.
You confessed on Sunday
and relapsed by Tuesday.
Again and again.
And they said,
“Keep trying. We’re all broken.”
But here’s the truth:
You don’t need more accountability.
You need death.
Because lust isn’t a behavior issue.
It’s not a bad habit.
It’s a false god —
and it demands a sacrifice.
So you put it on the cross.
Not with willpower.
With crucifixion.
“Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.”
— Galatians 5:24
Kill it.
Kill the secret phone.
Kill the Instagram explore page.
Kill the “just one more scroll.”
Kill the private tabs.
Kill the harmless flirtation.
Starve it.
Expose it.
Drag it into the light.
And nail it to the cross.
Because on the other side of that death
is something you’ve been craving your whole life:
Peace.
Real peace.
Not the fake peace of five minutes after the screen goes black.
Not the shame spiral.
Not the guilt-fueled promise to “never again.”
But real rest.
Clean mind.
Clear eyes.
Holy fire in your bones.
You don’t need another app.
You need the blood of Jesus.
You need to stop managing sin
and start murdering it.
This is not recovery.
It’s resurrection.
Scroll Sealed,
The Savage Witness