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 started writing this article about a friend, her struggles through cancer, and the pain of an unfortunate and severe fall that landed her in a hospital, requiring months of rehabilitation.
But on the mountain in Galilee, where we encounter a very different side of God, doubts overtake us. Why?
This story is all-too-common, and illustrates a key dynamic driving the youth out of church.
Years ago a young woman approached her pastor with a request. It wasn’t a strange request. She simply asked if he would perform her wedding ceremony.
Should we consider the tomb of Jesus completely empty, or just somewhat empty?
Before you ever know what happened, Satan has taught us to doubt the promise of the crucified and risen Christ.
There’s something appealing about a caged deity.
That is the way of our Lord, the way of grace. He doesn’t abandon Thomas to drown in a sea of doubt.
The Lord has a special place in his heart for those whom the world forgets. For the anonymous. For the rejected.
God isn’t interested in your sins. He isn’t interested in keeping score, making sure that you keep at least one more good work than bad in your ledger.
God isn’t interested in your sins. He isn’t interested in keeping score, making sure that you keep at least one more good work than bad in your ledger.
If even your family has disowned and discarded you; yes, if every single person in this world regards you as a hopeless, embarrassing failure at life, the Father of all mercies does not.