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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I can look at all of my failings and foolishness because I know who Christ is for me. I rest in his wisdom and life not my own.
All of my theological endeavoring will not squeeze one more ounce of grace from God.
If sin is only a matter of “doing,” then “undoing” and/or “redoing” would serve as the equivalent savior necessary to find redemption.
Ultimately, there is only one Lord of the Universe, and he does not share power. If Jesus is Lord, Caesar is not.
Though envy whispers to us that peace can only be found by “keeping up,” Jesus whispers to us a better word: “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.”
When you walk into church on Sunday, you may not notice, but there are wounded soldiers sitting in every single pew.
Jesus lives to intercede. So we needn’t bring him our feigned righteousness or our faux rehabilitation.
Repentance means being cut down by the law’s declaration of judgment. It’s not an activity we do to prepare for grace, but a point of despair worked by God himself.
If we want to see evidence of our Father’s answer to the fifth petition, we need only to look at the cross and the empty tomb.
Our ears are opened by the Spirit through the word. Then, faith in Christ is present in us.
It’s not the disciples’ faith that invented the resurrection but the resurrection that gave birth to the disciples’ faith.
The preacher of this text should follow the logic of the text, the divinely inspired genius of Saint Paul, and get out of the way.