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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Like the younger son, we can return to our Father every time our sinful hearts rebel against him. Like the older brother, we can complain and lament to our Father without fear of being destroyed.
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.
So long as we entrust death to Jesus, new life is ours. He has lunch ready and he is waiting for us in the power of his resurrection.
God daily broadsides us with his abundant power and glory as we observe nature around us. And yet, as glorious as this book of nature is, it is not enough.
We expect the world to shoot its wounded. But not even the world expects Christians to shoot their wounded.
Are people so different today? Is justification really irrelevant now? Is the preacher’s only point of contact with the life-giving Gospel a by-product of Microsoft’s word processor? I do not think so.
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?
For a long time, well-intentioned pastors and college evangelists have applied Jesus’ words from Revelation 3:20 to the unconverted.
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.