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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The epistle text from Colossians 1 declares how the great drama of redemption and human history ends.
The Gospel outpaces all would-be and eventually fleeting identity-makers and brings in the truth of a renewed-in-Christ humanity.
Jesus offer us this vision of violence not so we might be drawn into it but so we might be drawn through it to come closer to Him.
The devil knows our name and labels us by our sin. The devil breathes out death as he names us for what we are, sinners.
We would be utterly miserable if we could not find somebody less than ourselves, somebody to look down on, somebody to make us more pleased with ourselves.
The lavish nature of God’s love is indicated by the fact that He, as Father, is the author of our being adopted as sons and daughters through Holy Baptism.
It is incumbent upon the faithful preacher, looking to see sinners transformed into the image of Christ, to preach a naked gospel.
When we run deep into the darkness, Jesus runs deeper and deeper after us. Where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more.
Faithful celebration of the Reformation is possible only for those who understand they have nothing. Whose incapability and insufficiency are obvious and owned. Who recognize their dependence on God for all things. In other words, Reformation is for children.
We expect the world to shoot its wounded. But not even the world expects Christians to shoot their wounded.
I suggest preaching a sermon that directs attention away from the main characters. Instead, highlight for your hearers (and proclaim loudly and clearly) the promise of Jesus in this text.
The law does not end sin, does not make new beings, it only makes matters worse.