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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What comes to us at Christmas is not a great seasonal bargain to enhance our happy holidays. It is the priceless gift of God’s Son.
We aggrandize time. It certainly possesses power over us. It irreversibly moves us in one direction and can’t be replayed to different ends.
Christ rose from the grave so that the eternal Light of Christ would be your forever identity.
No one twisted Jesus’s arm to make him enter Mary’s womb. No one tricked him into being born into a world strung out on the meth of sin. He came in with his eyes wide open.
God graciously bursts our foolish plots by coming our way, into our very flesh, and being God with us.
We are all sojourners in a perilous cosmos, what is sometimes conceptualized as the theology of the pilgrim.
Over the last few weeks it’s been painful and disappointing to hear the stories of victims that have been abused and assaulted by powerful celebrities, executives, and politicians.
“Obey God and he will bless you,” says the wind and the reed is bent over and bruised throughout. “God will never stop loving you but you can disappoint him,” says the wind and the once lit candle is now a sad smoldering wick.
For since it was not enough that the Lord of heaven and earth hung on our every word, the Word came down from heaven and hung upon the cross.
The devil tempts us to hope in things that we can do.
What is it to be an heir of the Reformation? It is to look outward to Christ bleeding and dying on the cross as Great Rescuer of sinners—of me.
Where Jesus speaks to us, takes ahold of us, and gives Himself to us.