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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That is why we dance on graves. That is why we smile in the midst of sorrowful tears. That is why we retell old stories and share humorous memories.
Fear returns frequently in worry, but along with it comes a reminder to turn back to the Gospel. To turn anyone who will tell me the good news again.
When the old Adam hears a command, he hears a prescription. Like a coach drawing up a play so you can win the game.
We already know how the war will conclude. Jesus wins.
Is there anything abiding, anything long-lasting that can inspire us to hope again?
Since Jesus has done everything we need for salvation, we can focus our works and efforts on serving our neighbor.
The unrelenting truth of the Gospel is our only hope. Jesus Christ is the unshakeable, unmovable object of our faith. It is this hope in Christ that we find relief and comfort.
As the storm waves of life crash into us, threatening to pull us down into the undertow of sin, Jesus comes and stands between us and the furious tides.
Silence is an important and valuable tool for change and empathy, self-reflection, and learning.
Christ isn’t preached in his glory but in his ignominy, his utter shame, degradation, and desolation.
Unlike any mortal legal representative, our divine Attorney does not perform an inquiry to ensure our case is worth taking. He secures no retainer from us prior to advocating for our vindication.
Justice and love are united in God, and we see this most clearly in Jesus on the cross. There, both God's hatred toward sin and compassion for the world come together.