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'm always surprised to hear people say, “If I could do it all again, I wouldn’t change a thing.” But we’re all sinners and we all sin every day.
You can talk to me about how Jesus is really forgiving and how you want me around, but what happens when things don’t change in a month?
We pray for God to deliver us from ourselves. To forgive us, for Jesus’s sake, when we do evil.
The fact is no one dies with dignity.
Quid pro quo, you scratch my back and I will scratch yours. It tends to be the way we humans operate.
Have you ever wondered, of all the adjectives we could use to describe this day why in the world we chose the word “good?” Yeah, me too.
Apart from bare, naked faith in Jesus' atoning work for us, no sinner is, or ever can be, holy.
Paul’s letter to the Romans is arguably the most masterful piece of writing in the New Testament.
What would be a fitting thing to give up, especially during the season of Lent?
The God who's lifted up above Calvary, abandoned and forsaken, should draw a more discerning crowd of followers.
Inside our heads is a courtroom where our whole lives are put on trial. And we are declared guilty of things. Big things, little things. God things, human things. True things, false things. We never can measure up.
We’ve been desperate—and it is a gift of God when we are, when we realize our lost condition!