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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As with so many things, regret can begin as something natural, even beneficial, as you struggle to recover from a wound in your past. But over time, regret can devolve from a sadness to a sickness.
All other subjects—even Biblical subjects—were subservient to an accurate view of the Person and work of Jesus Christ for sinners.
I’m still piecing together fragments. I’ve spent my life collecting scraps of personal stories that will explain my father to me.
What is it about David’s life, and this psalm, that make this so fitting a place to utter this dire pronouncement of humanity’s corruption?
Isn’t it strange how the Jesus we end up with bears such a striking resemblance to ourselves? Our Jesus thinks as we do, acts as we act, speaks as we speak.
It had just been a few weeks in my friend’s life since he had been converted to the Christian faith. He was very much still learning the ropes of what it meant to be a Christian.
On that night in Bethlehem so long ago, not even your mother who held you in her arms understood that you had come to turn the world upside down in a through-the-looking-glass sort of way.
The advent is an incredible time for the church. We focus in on and celebrate Christ's first coming in anticipation of His second advent: The restoration of all things.
It doesn’t matter how good you seem to be, you’ll always be able to find someone who seems better than you. We’re addicted to comparing, measuring, quantifying, and judging.
Last night our family watched Pixar's Inside Out and yes, I'm very late to that Pixar party. I enjoyed the film. The personification of Joy and Sadness was extraordinary.
I was recently challenged to write about someone I know. A very specific someone who is extremely flawed and broken, even if they don't know it or care to admit it.
We harbor a clandestine doctrine in our hearts: we secretly hope there is a purgatory.