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 gospel of Jesus Christ is also a declaration. It is a declaration of something that has already happened, “that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day."
Ever since the tragedy of the Garden, God’s plan of redemption has been in motion. His movement upon this world has never ceased, and it never will.
When we are hurt, we cry out to God. But sometimes when the hurt gets really intense, our lament turns to complaint. Not only is this normal, but almost every lament in scripture contains a complaint.
Comfort is not a platitude; it is a promise. A promise from our God who left his place of glory and died a sinner’s death for poor sinners.
Love for our neighbor can be taxing. We may even decide it’s not worth the cost. But in this moment I found a blessed reminder of how different God's love is, and how our value rests in Christ alone.
The God whom I met without a preacher is neither revealing nor hiding—but now, with a preacher, he has become my hiding place!
God's Word reveals the truth about us. We don't much care for God's Word. We prefer the yes and no of our personal taste buds.
He would not go back on his word, for his word is the word of the Father and the Spirit, and they all say “come.”
When it comes to God’s word, our help only obscures his power and grace.
We already know how the war will conclude. Jesus wins.
Is there anything abiding, anything long-lasting that can inspire us to hope again?
If the world could have been saved by bookkeeping, it would have been saved by Moses, not Jesus. The law was just fine.