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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Like the younger son, we can return to our Father every time our sinful hearts rebel against him. Like the older brother, we can complain and lament to our Father without fear of being destroyed.
When it comes to confessing the truth of the Christian faith, Christians are given the words. We don’t have to formulate them ourselves.
Our very lives as parents and children implicitly proclaim this higher and lovely truth: we have no value to God based upon our usefulness.
It is incumbent upon the faithful preacher, looking to see sinners transformed into the image of Christ, to preach a naked gospel.
Jesus gave His disciples the Lord’s Prayer as a gift. It’s really our prayer when you think about it.
God daily broadsides us with his abundant power and glory as we observe nature around us. And yet, as glorious as this book of nature is, it is not enough.
Are people so different today? Is justification really irrelevant now? Is the preacher’s only point of contact with the life-giving Gospel a by-product of Microsoft’s word processor? I do not think so.
Friends are a gift from God, but all gifts flow from God to his children because of his love for us on account of Christ.
The following is an excerpt from“Where Two or Three Are Gathered” edited by Scott Keith (1517 Publishing, 2019).
For a long time, well-intentioned pastors and college evangelists have applied Jesus’ words from Revelation 3:20 to the unconverted.
We want to be kind, gentle, and cheerful to others, but we’ve got to protect ourselves from getting hurt.
The optimism of a Christian extends beyond the deathbed and has its origin in a historical event without historical boundaries.