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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Mere confrontation in the form of, “What you’re doing is wrong—you need to change yourself,” can never solve the root of our problem.
I don't remember a time not knowing I was a sinner. Seriously, I've always understood that Christ died for me.
Here, we read the mystery and majesty of the incarnation of the Son of God wrapped up into a single package
Death can make us feel like tourists or strangers traveling across the landscape of someone else’s life.
The story of these faithful Christians serves to highlight the roles of both Africa and martyrdom in the early church and today.
Nothing, not pain, hurt, resentment, bitterness, or hopelessness can separate us from God’s love for us in Jesus Christ.
Sometimes, the bible bores me. Sometimes, I take scripture, grace, and Jesus lightly.
Original sin produces violent fruit.
Three of the most profound truths embedded in the fabric of the universe are that blood has a voice, blood cries out to God, and blood is heard by heaven.
When the church has gone astray, it has been the responsible (not slavish) approach to history that has helped correct the course.
I’d like to offer a short reflection on the theme of “worldliness” as it appears in his later work and how that’s connected to an item of his Lutheran heritage: the theology of the cross.
We’re messed up people with messed up bodies. All of us. Even Miss America gets hemorrhoids. The Fall mocks us in our own skin. We’re all walking sermons.