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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There is a difference between preaching about Christ and preaching Christ.
We need a God who can heal us of true guilt and false guilt. We need a Christ who not only removes the shame we feel for what we’ve done, but who washes away the shame that others have smeared upon us.
Many Christians are worried—perhaps legitimately—that the state is a short step away from turning the Law of God into hate speech and silencing the legal preaching of God’s Word.
The Church of Jesus Christ is and stays Jesus' Church whether we decide it is or not.
The miracle of Pentecost is not obvious; it is the miracle of faith created through the preaching of the word of the cross.
His consolation will accompany us in the midst of sickness and death. He will strengthen us, even strengthen us to carry the cross of old age.
In an age when families are already fractured beyond comprehension, are we seriously going to separate parents from children in the one service in which God himself is present to unite us to himself and one another?
Jesus went on ahead and took our cross, our sins of poor discipleship, our weak faith, our rebellion against God’s command.
Only Jesus’ absolute absolution can satisfy a troubled conscience.
Jesus is our food and drink, our home and property, our all in all.
Jesus is our food and drink, our home and property, our all in all.
Preaching is a dangerous and difficult task. Some occupations might involve more harrowing situations and circumstances but I will continue to contend that there’s not a more perilous or vulnerable position to be in than behind the pulpit.