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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The pastor declares it. We receive it. The forgiveness of sins. It’s a simple thing.
But another possible translation for the Greek word we translate as ‘overcome’ and one maybe more consistent with the context is ‘comprehend.’
We are dangerously good at focusing on our exciting, or boring, walk of faith.
Only the poor are in need of a Savior, and only the dead need faith, hope, and love delivered to them by the hand of the Almighty.
Instead of burning them up with unquenchable fire, He comes in solidarity, to be God with us and God for us. Jesus is baptized into our life, so that He could gift us His life.
While I was still an over-eager seminarian the professor warned me, “Mr. Riley, this is exciting stuff.
Only a god could be wise. We are seekers, lovers of divine wisdom, but it is forever beyond our grasp due to human limitation.
And so we determine that God is a stern, short-tempered Lord and a gracious, long-suffering Father. And the fact is, He is both.
Jesus tears down every “but” that people try to build between us and God. He died and rose for us, and—not but—He makes Himself our Lord and Savior.
Even now we sing as we live in His gifts, and await His second Advent—His second-coming.
As a new year approaches, a mawkish paranoia sets in. Looking over our shoulders, we add up our good choices, our praises, and our reasons to celebrate.
Christ intercedes on your behalf before the Father for all the sins that work guilt deep down in your soul.