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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There is something about high art forms that touches the soul.
Jesus is the great Houdini of the grave for us. And through His death, He gives us the Great Escape from death that leads to the great joy of the Resurrection.
Christ’s flesh and blood is light that the darkness cannot comprehend.
The victory of Christ is hidden in the crosses we bear as Christians following Him to our own personal Golgothas.
The absence of a feeling is not the absence of Christ, but as emotional, rational, and spiritual beings, we cannot say that the presence of Christ necessitates the absence of emotion.
Jesus went on ahead and took our cross, our sins of poor discipleship, our weak faith, our rebellion against God’s command.
Some have built an entire theology on the false assumption that when God commands us to obey or believe, we have the ability to obey or believe.
Only Jesus’ absolute absolution can satisfy a troubled conscience.
Now, resurrection can only follow upon death. The good news is, it will!
I cannot recall how many times I sang along to this theme song, punching and kicking as a kid in the 80s. But much of my desire to join the Marine Corps had its genesis in the 80s cartoon “G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero.”
Jesus becomes who you are and you become who he is. His kindness and patience and courage are given to you, and your lust and meanness and impatience are reckoned to him.
A good place to start is to work hard at loving those no one else seems to love. I can’t think of a more Christ-like action.