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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Our very lives as parents and children implicitly proclaim this higher and lovely truth: we have no value to God based upon our usefulness.
God broke into the midst of our pain and allows us to bring our requests to him as those who are counted as “godly.”
When I hear my brother’s name, I will grieve a little. But I will also rejoice, for I know that he is with his Savior.
So long as we entrust death to Jesus, new life is ours. He has lunch ready and he is waiting for us in the power of his resurrection.
He will do it because God is the truth, and always deals with and in the truth.
Jesus gave His disciples the Lord’s Prayer as a gift. It’s really our prayer when you think about it.
Jesus is a heroic warrior that not even hell can defeat.
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.
Our scars are a reminder that salvation is all gift.
The following is an excerpt from“Where Two or Three Are Gathered” edited by Scott Keith (1517 Publishing, 2019).
This letter is not without controversy—not because of its content but due to questions concerning its authorship and canonicity.
It is true that no one ever grieves in the same way. We are all different in personality and chemical makeup. But what is the same, is that everyone, at some point, grieves.