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 we discover in O’Connor’s stories and Martin Luther’s theology is that God’s grace is elusive because the human heart is resistant to it.
We can’t predict the harvest. We can only sow.
Nothing moves or drives Paul more than preaching about “Christ and him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:2).
We don't make Church "happen." Only Christ can do so. It's his happening.
Some explanations are better than others, but they remain our explanations—except if we had some perspective from outside, above, and behind nature.
This is the message of Lent. We are not called to sacrifice for Jesus in order to earn our salvation. Rather, we are called to remember the sacrifice that Jesus made for us.
As disciples of Jesus, our righteousness cannot be performed before others, because our righteousness was already performed by Jesus.
When I finished this book, I loved the Bible, and the Bible’s author, even more. And I can’t imagine a better endorsement than that.
Even if the numbers are bad, the news about Jesus crucified for sinners and raised to new life hasn’t become any less good.
There is a revival, no less real and even more definitive, taking place in every church, every weekend, where God’s people gather around his gifts.
Ash Wednesday's purpose is not to motivate our resolve to redouble our efforts to do better.
Reading includes, on some level, striving. Hearing, on the other hand, remains passive.