There is something about drifting from the Father’s heart that just makes your heart sick. In such times, “you need Beauty to wake you up long enough to see your need.”
I experienced such an encounter with Beauty in January 2025 when an unexpected turn of events led me to spend two weeks in student housing at Biola University.
I was supposed to be at Trinity Western University at the time—not at Biola. And yet, due to issues with my Canadian student VISA at the Canadian/American border half an hour away from Trinity’s campus, I ended up crashing with an old high school buddy and his merry band of film and finance bros at the Californian school instead.
Being a Christian school in its own right, it boasted a myriad of spaces for corporate worship and personal devotion alike. It had been a while since I had enjoyed real quality time with God, so I took full advantage of this perfect opportunity to pull closer.
Bethel Music and Abbie Gamboa’s “Center” was undoubtedly the soundtrack of my first few days seeking God in the chapel famously known as the “belly of the whale.” One night, however, as I shuffled through a worship playlist before bed, I came upon “The Father’s Song.”
It was a whopping twenty minutes long and, unlike your typical worship song, was addressed to the believer from the perspective of God as opposed to the other way around. To my surprise, I bawled my eyes out for the entire duration of the track. I did not understand what was going on at the time.
By the time I had made it back to Canada thanks to a timely immigration miracle, I had a slightly better idea.
But it was not until I shared the story in front of a roomful of fellow seniors and their families on graduation weekend that I fully processed what God had done in my heart through “The Father’s Song” three months prior. “Looking back now,” I explained, “I realize that before this experience, I had retained the second part of John 3:16 while forgetting the first.”
I had believed that the Lord Jesus took on flesh and blood, died and rose again so that I may gain new life on the merits of His righteousness. However, I had forgotten that God sent Jesus because He so loved the world.
I had developed an image of God as the owner of a house that I get to serve in, live in and sleep in, but only because He tolerates my presence. I was like the prodigal son Jesus talked about in His famous parable from Luke 15. Verses 18 and 19 of Luke 15 give us a glimpse into the prodigal son’s internal monologue vis-à-vis his father:
“Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.”
When the prodigal son proceeded to speak those very words to his father, the father did not even allow him to finish his sentence before bringing out his best robe, putting a ring on his son’s finger and sandals on his feet, killing the fatted calf and throwing a huge party to celebrate the return of the prodigal son.
That is what God is like. He has forgiven me my many sins. But, more than that, He has not merely relegated me to the status of a second-class citizen, but instead restored me fully to sonship.
What a glorious thing it is to be called a son by God Himself. What a glorious thing it is, especially after giving Him ample reason to disown me—or at the very least to shut me out for a season. That is not how He rolls, though. He is such a good dad.
In fact, He almost reminds me of King Mufasa in my favorite childhood movie.
I have thought about this scene a fair amount this year, actually. I am not in the habit of claiming a word for each new calendar year, but coming into 2026, I felt a strong urge to lean into friendship with God. I have a sneaking suspicion that I will be revisiting the subject on this newsletter before long.
In the meantime, however, I will content myself with telling the story of when God gave me yet another glimpse into His Fatherly love—this time in January 2026.
I was in Kitchener, Ontario visiting Fr. Michael Rutledge’s church with my pastor, Fr. Chad Block. Fr. Chad and I had a blast as we traveled across the country and immersed ourselves in the Benediction Church community for a weekend.
One of the standout moments of my trip was over dinner on our second night in Kitchener. We were having a fairly normal conversation until I started talking about some of the little things I had been feeling increasingly convicted about as it relates to my various roles in our local church.
Chad listened attentively and shared a great deal of wisdom with me about ministry and what it means to serve like Christ modeled. He told me that I was a capable man and a good man, and then proceeded to drop the following line à la Matthew 3:17:
Before you do anything, you are loved.
All of a sudden, I was emotional again. This time, I held back the tears because I was not about to cry in front of another human being.
But, in much the same way as the year before, I was rather confused as to why the father’s words had struck such a chord. It was not like I had confessed anything close to the magnitude of sins I have previously confessed to Fr. Chad. And yet the weight of his words in that moment had all but wrecked me.
As I look back now, the whole experience reminds of a Sir Roger Scruton quote from his 2010 essay, “Effing the Ineffable”:
Anybody who goes through life with open mind and open heart will encounter these moments of revelation, moments that are saturated with meaning, but whose meaning cannot be put into words. These moments are precious to us. When they occur it is as though, on the winding ill-lit stairway of our life, we suddenly come across a window, through which we catch sight of another and brighter world—a world to which we belong but which we cannot enter.
Fr. Chad may not have been wearing his priestly garb at The Crazy Canuck but there is no doubt that he had mediated the presence and heart of God towards me in that hole-in-the-wall restaurant nevertheless. It was beautiful. And it was a gift—one that I will cherish for years to come.
My prayer for anyone reading this is that you, too — whether it be through song or film or conversation or creation — would be awakened to the glorious and precious reality of the Father’s love for you.
Because the only thing you ever had to do to make Him happy was come home at the end of the day.
Wow, really enjoyed this, Sacha!
Thank you for taking us along on this journey! 🙏🙌