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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The Great King comes for us.
Ambrose's preaching continues to ring out in churches around the world, especially during Advent when we sing his magnificent, proclamatory hymn, "Savior of the Nations, Come."
While Christmas may or may not have pagan roots, it will certainly have a pagan future if Christians lose sight of what it is all about.
Longstanding tradition must be bolstered by something outside of ourselves that also lies outside of the traditions of men.
The crucified and risen Christ comes to renew, restore, and build up.
In Scripture, laments are raw expressions of grief, but they always point to hope. What if our culture’s obsession with holiday lights is an unconscious way of crying out, “We need good news, and we need it now”?
The Lord’s provision doesn’t rest on the strength of our gratitude.
Instead of a “how-to” manual, the Bible is a “what-you-didn’t-do” story.
One Christ rules over all of it. He is the constant, the root that nourishes every estate and every vocation.
No matter how many times we hear this good news, it never stops being good news.
If we picture the New Testament as a divinely painted masterpiece that hangs in the middle of a museum, then all around it are other works of the period, in different corridors of the museum, in many styles, painted by diverse artists, with variations of color and technique.
Mary looms large in our theology, our liturgy, our confessions and creeds.