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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Neither did Christ’s absolution “run out” nor “reach a limit” due to Judas’ sin.
In short, the life of Christ is perfect justice and perfect grace on display.
No matter how great our efforts or how righteous our intent, we will go from troubled to scared, and scared to terrified, unless we are sprinkled with the blood of the Lamb.
The practice of Confession in the Christian church is given to us so that I can offload my sins to He Who takes my sins to death for me—none other than Christ Jesus.
Heaven is as near as the Word proclaimed from the mouth of the preacher into the ear and heart of the sinner. It is as near as the bread and wine in your mouth. For, you see, Word and sacrament are where Jesus is.
The following is an excerpt from Chad Bird’s new book, Your God Is Too Glorious: Finding God in the Most Unexpected Places (Baker Book, 2018).
Growing up in church I did not often hear the word “grace” uttered unless it was accompanied by the word “cheap” and said in a disapproving tone with a disdainful look.
Jesus lives amidst the twisted metal and smoking ruins of lives gone bad. It’s where he does his best work. Christ is the ultimate first responder.
The pastor declares it. We receive it. The forgiveness of sins. It’s a simple thing.
Yes, but. It's a phrase I find myself repeating often in life. When my husband asks for forgiveness, I too often respond, "I forgive you, but…” and then continue with a list of my grievances.
God knows our need. He knows how it is to raise unruly children. He is very experienced in dealing with rebellion.
While I was still an over-eager seminarian the professor warned me, “Mr. Riley, this is exciting stuff.