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 was another criminal next to Christ the day he died. He was aware of who Jesus was, and why he was there.
It’s time to call bull on a theology the dominates Christianity.
Today, I almost died several times.
We want to know how God rules this world, how he is present in all things, how he exerts his control over the course of world events. We want to know why some get cancer and some don’t, why terrible things happen to the best of people, why volcanoes erupt and hurricanes strike and fires consume.
When we explain away God’s Word, we jettison the reality of our ominous diagnosis in the “Thou shall/shall nots” of the law, and with it the sweet cure in the, “This is My body/blood” of the Gospel.
Years ago I picked up a used copy of Thomas Á Kempis’ Imitation of Christ at a second-hand bookstore.
One of the things you get used to if you talk about this thing called “grace” often enough, is sooner or later you’ll be looked down on by your peers.
We can leave all the stuff of life behind, because our great treasure God flaunts before the world on Calvary.
The Christian faith makes a bold claim: We are the world's problem, but we are not the world's solution.
It seems that no matter where we look in this world, we never quite find what we really need.
We treat the Scriptures as if they’re our literary property to toy with as we please.
One of the interesting things about Paul’s writings that is not noticed enough is that Paul doesn’t really have an “application” section.