Felicia sat across from her church youth group, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her sleeve. The room was filled with faces she'd worshipped beside, laughed with, and even prayed with—but not one of them knew the full story.
Not the private struggle.
Not the nights she wept in guilt.
Not the redemption she had tasted.
Until now.
"I need to share something," she said, her voice low but steady.
The room grew quiet. Eyes turned. Hearts stilled.
She took a deep breath and said it plainly:
"I used to struggle with masturbation. For years. And I thought it disqualified me from God's love. But it didn't."
Gasps didn't come. Shock didn't spread. Instead—tears welled up in the eyes of a girl across the room. A guy bowed his head.
Felicia continued, voice shaking but bold:
"I believed I had to be perfect. But God met me *in* the mess. He didn't wait for me to clean up before loving me. He loved me right there."
A pause.
"And I'm sharing this because I know I'm not the only one who's ever felt ashamed. And I want you to know: you are not alone. God sees you. And He's not disgusted. He wants to heal you."
The silence that followed was sacred.
Then someone spoke up.
"Felicia… thank you. I thought I was the only one."
Then another.
"I've been scared to say it out loud. But I've been there too."
And another.
"I needed this. I needed to know God can still use me."
That night, the youth group didn't just share secrets. They shared healing. Chains broke in real time—not because of a perfect sermon, but because of one girl's courage to tell the truth.
Felicia left that room lighter.
Not because she was done healing—but because she no longer had to heal alone.
She finally saw: her past didn't disqualify her.
It *qualified* her to carry a testimony.
And someone else's breakthrough might just be buried inside her boldness.