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 God whose Spirit hovered over the face of the dark, formless, void waters of the infant creation, now walks upon the waters of the sea like a boss.
Sacrifice is the beating heart of the Scriptures, but also of our Christian faith.
Who was this Jesus, who could do such things?
They stood on their feet, the Father's host, Alive in the Son and Holy Ghost.
Paul’s letter to the Romans is arguably the most masterful piece of writing in the New Testament.
What would be a fitting thing to give up, especially during the season of Lent?
There’s some wild and untamed prayers in the psalms. But they’re fenced in by order, symmetry, predictability. They organize chaos. And they bring order and hope and stability to our chaotic lives.
If you don’t believe Jesus Christ—that is, God in the man born of the Virgin Mary—died for the sins of the world, then you can’t evangelize.
Some days, people need a touch. Not just any touch, but something that says, "I care about you, and I love you."
The God who's lifted up above Calvary, abandoned and forsaken, should draw a more discerning crowd of followers.
I’m still laughing now as hard as I laughed back then. And the salve that he gave me in that moment still works some strange magic on me to this day.
If I'm honest, when I survey my life I don't exude much contentment.