This is an excerpt from the introduction of Stretched: A Study for Lent and the Entire Christian Life by Christopher Richmann (1517 Publishing, 2026).
We can bring our troubles, griefs, sorrows, and sins to Jesus, who meets us smack dab in the middle of our messy mob.
Confession isn’t a detour in the liturgy. It’s the doorway.

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Today, I almost died several times.
The Christian life is compared to many things throughout Scripture. It's likened to a soldier going to war, a sheep under the care of a shepherd, or the journey of a pilgrim to a far-off city.
Over the last 11 months I’ve spent the bulk of my time working to plant a church in New York City.
One of the things you get used to if you talk about this thing called “grace” often enough, is sooner or later you’ll be looked down on by your peers.
One thing is for certain: my day was heaven compared to his. My minor headaches nothing compared to whatever he was going through.
The most powerless person in this story is the key to it all. God uses her who is nothing to effect everything.
Years ago a pastor friend of mine who felt betrayed by someone he trusted told me that he was under no biblical obligation to forgive his betrayer unless and until he asked for forgiveness.
The Christian faith makes a bold claim: We are the world's problem, but we are not the world's solution.
It seems that no matter where we look in this world, we never quite find what we really need.
Attacked by sin, robbed by Satan, lacerated by death—there we lay, unable to help ourselves. Yet He helps us who can never help ourselves.
It’s a miracle anyone believes the Gospel. It goes against everything else we believe in.
Why was Jesus crucified? Not to save victims, but to save sinners.