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 had been taught and believed in a God who is love, but as I walked outside that night I did not see him. I saw the stars and I felt their indifference.
He calls us to suffer as Christ suffered. That is, we are to suffer in service to our neighbor even if they caused the injustice.
I wish I was better at seeing the bigger picture. Or maybe, I wish I was simply better at seeing the larger scope of its beauty.
What is supposed to be given by Christ through us for neighbor is used up by us, twisted for our righteous gain.
Rather than validate our selfish, self-serving choices, he justifies us by giving us new life and baptizing us into his death and resurrection.
What do we say when a Christian admits the church has driven them to atheism? And they don't mean ideologically.
The distinction between Christ-for-you and Christ-in-you can present a misleading dichotomy.
God is the only one who decides what we receive, when, and how it’s given to us.
God isn’t fooled by our fake piety. He would rather have us venting honestly than faking it.
Biblically speaking, we won’t find much evidence for a preordained spouse.
Jesus and the New Testament—good. Yahweh and the Old Testament—not really so good. So goes the popular, but largely whispered, dichotomy.
Jesus doesn’t talk about God’s love for us; he embodies it.