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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I’m a life-long New Yorker, and I have the pleasure of working minutes from the neighborhood I grew up in as a boy.
Often, when we talk about the Old Testament, we talk about God's promises and work for his chosen people, Israel.
He was a beggar on the streets. And, he was as good as dead if he didn't receive a blessing. The words, "you're cursed" haunted his mind.
Where Jesus says, “She’s not dead, she’s sleeping,” death dies.
When we say in the benediction, “The LORD make His face shine on you,” grace is what we mean.
What does it mean to be a child of God and to carry his image? This is a theological question, but it is a question necessary for our self-understanding
When our mind betrays us, our body fails us, and our soul can’t be comforted, our Jesus now saves us.
In the beginning, we read about the invention of religion. It begins simply enough in Genesis 3
We tell our children if they work hard and play by the rules, they’ll succeed in life. Jerks, cheaters, and thieves won’t. They’ll end up in the gutter. Or jail. Or worse.
The desire to go home—or to find the place where one truly belongs—is latent in every human being.
Jesus is the Word of God. God’s Word—on two legs (John 1:14). I’d read it in the first chapter of John’s Gospel many, many times.
Divine election hacking happens with the proposal that God’s Word is irrelevant and powerless, weak and impotent.