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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Life will not go as planned nor as we would hope, but "God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."
Love continues to gently but endlessly pursue the narrator, despite his persistence in pulling away in the opposite direction.
In this context where death looms large, Jesus reveals a kingdom where life looms even larger.
When we genuinely measure ourselves, we will find ourselves dreadfully lacking.
The tragedy of this parable is not the failure to serve. It is the failure to truly know your Savior.
The parable is harsh. It judges. If you do not believe, you will not be saved. But let us pause for a moment and think about why Jesus is telling the parable.
Jesus breaks through our barriers in His beatitudes. He shatters our conceptions of the blessed life and opens the Kingdom of God to all people.
It’s easy to slip into thinking about forgiveness solely in terms of our authority over it.
The Gospel is gift, pure and simple. It is backwards. It is upside down. It is foolish. And as long as people are sinners, it is as relevant as ever.
The command to love those nearby is as challenging as it is simple. Jesus took the initiative to come near to us in loving sacrifice.
The Gospel is a precious and comforting word. It comforts and refreshes the sad heart. It wrestles it out of the jaws of death and hell and transports it to the certain hope of eternal life, through faith in Christ.
How we define holiness will affect our approach to God.