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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Finally, we draw near the end of this three-part article on Revelation 1:10-20.
Jesus’ forgiveness will not collapse. Jesus’ forgiveness will take us places our legs can’t take us.
The thing seems incredible, and I would not have believed it myself, nor have understood Paul’s words here, had I not witnessed it with my own eyes and experienced it.
For all its stewing, regret ironically does not truly focus on the past. Often it is more concerned with the present and the future and how they would be if only we had done something differently.
The white hair of Jesus’ head teaches us that the Gospel is an ancient mystery.
On a summer day in 2008, Thomas and Romayne McGinnis were presented with the highest honor that can be received in any branch of the United States military, that is, the Medal of Honor.
John had heard Jesus’ voice countless times and seen Him every day over the course of three years, and yet nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to witness.
We are saved by grace, and strictly speaking, not by an offer.
I love studying books on productivity and efficiency. I have a big family, and I have little people who depend on me and actually expect to eat every day.
As I write this, I wonder if perhaps I am stretching things a bit thinking that it would be relevant to a considerably more sophisticated audience. Perhaps we already know the Gospel, that we are all sinners.
I visited a senior man at his home the other day. I'll refer to him as “Jim.”
We’re going to take a little bit of time going through John’s description of the resurrected and exalted Jesus and its significance.