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 greatest, wisest, most mind-blowing teachers in the church are all dead. Yes, they’re fully alive with Christ, but for our purposes, they’re dead.
I’ve always been more at home in the Old Testament than in the New Testament.
What did Christians do, both when they encountered a Rome in its glory, as when Christ was born, and in it decline, as when Constantine tried to pull stuff back together?
If there is no resurrection, then we have no true hope, and the arts above all vocations would be the folly of follies.
In an age when families are already fractured beyond comprehension, are we seriously going to separate parents from children in the one service in which God himself is present to unite us to himself and one another?
The victory of Christ is hidden in the crosses we bear as Christians following Him to our own personal Golgothas.
Give us eyes to see the face of Jesus in that little child wriggling in front of us, tugging at his mom’s sleeve, wanting a drink of water.
Now, resurrection can only follow upon death. The good news is, it will!
A good place to start is to work hard at loving those no one else seems to love. I can’t think of a more Christ-like action.
This reflection was adapted from Sexy: The Quest for Erotic Virtue in Perplexing Times (1517 Publishing, 2017).
Today I want to give you some good news. It is good news for the relationship failure; for the one who is self-focused;
Jesus came to lay down his life for us. He didn’t come to slip 6’ leashes on the necks of his canine followers. He came to set us free.