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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This plague is no new thing. A dreaded deformity of disobedience clung to every soul since Adam and Eve.
The preached word ensured the work of the Holy Spirit, so long as it was the written word of the Gospel. Gospel preaching was the one domain in which we could be assured of the convicting, saving, and sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit.
From political parties to sports teams, we know all too well how quickly we can ruin a good thing, turning a temporal allegiance into a spiritual one
Jesus is the heart of the Gospel, and the Gospel is Good News. But it is always Good News that comes to us best on the lips of another.
With a new year comes many new things. In the corporate world, we again introduced to our yearly performance review.
Despite the death all around us, the death that is assured us, we know there is a way out.
The rich young ruler’s inquiry to the Lord Jesus in Mark 10:17–22 (along with Matt. 19:16–22; Luke 10:25–28) remains increasingly prescient for us today.
The red door was fair warning to pursuers that they could proceed no further.
Both these words, Law and Gospel, are from God. The sinner needs both of them. Both are true and good.
Separating the Law from the conscience is not just bad because it makes the Law ineffective. If the Law and the conscience are not brought together, it also means leaving the conscience unaddressed and unassuaged when the Gospel is preached.
Such faith is faith alone. Even our Spirit-produced fruit is not to be trusted. Rather, faith rests entirely in Christ’s work for us.