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 law does not end sin, does not make new beings, it only makes matters worse.
Should we have more victories over our sin? Probably. But can we be honest and admit that we don't have as many as we'd like?
Christ’s indwelling in the Christian must be tied relentlessly to these external and objective events of God’s own action.
We want to be kind, gentle, and cheerful to others, but we’ve got to protect ourselves from getting hurt.
When Jesus spoke about mustard-seed-sized-faith that moved mountains, He wasn't making a quantitative statement as much as a qualitative one.
Imagine what it would be like if, when people in our community thought about this congregation, the first thing that came to mind was how forgiving we are.
As our first parents had a bond with the animals, as Noah had animals with him in the reboot of creation after the flood, so after this old creation comes to an end, we will enjoy a new creation that includes animals.
The kingdom of Christ is realized where nothing but comfort and the forgiveness of sins reign not only in words to proclaim it, which is also necessary; but also in deed.
Whatever theoretical or conceptual ideas to which we surrender in despair, the Christian faith offers something wholly different. It offers a person.
Forgiveness, not love, can restore a relationship that’s top-heavy with negative emotions.
By pouring out his life unto death, Jesus reverses our death.
Squander. What a great word. It so perfectly captures the pitfalls of backsliding in all areas of life. It's the utter self-ruination of good things.