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 he sat, awaiting his executioner. John looked around at what God and His Messiah were not doing, and even the greatest among those born of woman had his doubts. “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?”
Our actions, moral choices, appearance, definitions of family and friendship are all defined by how we see ourselves in relation to the question, "Am I good enough?"
God does not combat the impending armies of Satan with might and power, but with the weakness of a babe.
The Son of Eve disarmed Satan’s hold on humanity, not with an earthquake, atomic bomb, or brilliant essay, but with his dead body and final words, “It is finished.”
The problem is not that we are unrepentant. The problem is our contrition is too small.
God comes to fix what is broken by being broken himself. He abolishes death by dying. He subsumes sin by being made sin itself.
God invites us to have intimate conversations in a world filled with mockery and hate. To trust Jesus reigns whenever and wherever He extends a word of promise to the displaced and the disfavored, welcoming them home.
“I forgive you,” must be said and it must be said often in a marriage.
Jesus offer us this vision of violence not so we might be drawn into it but so we might be drawn through it to come closer to Him.
As I sat there in the dark, empty church with my hands buried in the guts of a copy machine I was powerless to fix, I couldn't help feeling sorry for myself.
If the resurrection were just a repetition of this world, then it would be ridiculous, indeed. But the resurrection is different. It is a world without death.
When we hear freedom, we have to ask about its opposite, bondage.