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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Apart from bare, naked faith in Jesus' atoning work for us, no sinner is, or ever can be, holy.
Paul’s letter to the Romans is arguably the most masterful piece of writing in the New Testament.
Looking at our dining room table most days, you might think we were running a cartoon factory out of our house. Drawings. Everywhere.
One of my favorite shows in recent memory is the American law enforcement drama Law & Order.
The more I heard the song, the more I heard the heart of the Gospel in the song.
Today, people often bemoan the loss of children in the church.
But when God's Word of Law and Gospel are tuned up, when they're properly distinguished, then Jesus' words rain down on us like thunderbolts.
Last year, a friend I follow tweeted, “Calling yourself a sinner is spitting on all the work that Jesus did to make you a saint.”
When it comes to faith, God runs all the verbs. God's Spirit calls us by the Gospel. He enlightens us with His gifts.
Salvation starts in being a sinner and knowing it because that's where God starts salvation, in making "Him to be Sin who knew no sin."
Among the things that perturb me about modern Christianity is our residual clinging to a sort of “Christian-karma.”
On the television show Portlandia—a satirical comedy centered on hipster culture in Portland, Oregon—one episode highlights a conversation between the characters as Carrie and Alexandra look through Fred’s endless photo album of the places he’s traveled.