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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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.
Jesus gave His disciples the Lord’s Prayer as a gift. It’s really our prayer when you think about it.
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.
Jesus is a heroic warrior that not even hell can defeat.
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.
Our scars are a reminder that salvation is all gift.
Jesus knows your name. Whether you’re a boy named Sue or a beggar named Lazarus, the God who named that forgotten man has not forgotten you.
This letter is not without controversy—not because of its content but due to questions concerning its authorship and canonicity.
It is true that no one ever grieves in the same way. We are all different in personality and chemical makeup. But what is the same, is that everyone, at some point, grieves.
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.
You are in a fight, but the victory is guaranteed because it is in the hands of the risen Chief Shepherd.