PACIFIC PALISADES, Calif. – Carrying a tall wooden cross on his shoulder, Pastor John Shaver walked down the street where his church had stood, just three months ago.

Shaver had led the 102-year-old Community United Methodist Church of Pacific Palisades for barely six months when it burned to the ground in the January wildfire that all but decimated the community. On Good Friday, Shaver and a handful of community members gathered at the gutted church site amid the grating noise of forklifts and jackhammers that were cleaning up and preparing the land for rebuilding.

They then embarked on a Good Friday “cross walk.” From their church to the bluffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean, they paused at nine locations reading a Bible verse at each stop — a slight departure from the traditional 14-step devotion commemorating Christ’s suffering, crucifixion and death. Each station depicts a specific event in Jesus’ last day, from his condemnation to death on the cross and burial.

While the church has held regular Sunday services at other locations recently, this was the first time members had set foot on the church site after the fire in which nearly 80% of the congregation, including Shaver, had lost their homes.

Remembering what was lost in the fire

Church member Christine Odionu’s stopped by her burned-out condo. She said all that remained of her home was the garage. Her eyes welled up as she spoke.

“It’s just too painful,” she said. “Easter is a time of hope. But today feels like a sorrowful day, a day of mourning.”

A longtime member of the church, 85-year-old Annette Rossilli, was among 29 people who were killed across the Los Angeles area after the wildfires fueled by dry conditions and gusting winds erupted Jan. 7.

Shaver remembered Rossilli as the cross-bearing group walked down the street. He also stopped by the location where his house stood — the home he, his wife and two daughters ages 18 and 16 had moved into in July. Shaver looked at the barren plot of land and briefly remembered everything that was lost in the fire, including heirlooms from grandparents.

“It’s also a reminder how much of what we have, we take for granted,” he said, adding that on this day, he chose to wear clothes people donated to him after the fire in that spirit of appreciation.

Wreckage and signs of renewal

On Good Friday, Via De La Paz, the street where the church property is located, was buzzing with activity as construction vehicles, demolition equipment and water trucks rolled up and down the street. Workers in green and orange vests were clearing debris. Despite the bustle, the scene was eerie.

Charred palm trees drooped and sagged like worn-out mops. Twisted metal and deformed wood stuck up from destroyed dwellings. On one plot, the only intact structure that remained was a brick fireplace. On another, two bright red, broken Adirondack chairs sat amid a pile of rubble.

Several homeowners had put up blue signs on their properties that read: “This home will rise again.” One family’s black-and-white sign said: “We are coming home! Hope to see you there. We miss you! Thank you for everything!” Palisades Elementary Charter School, whose building still stands across the street from the church, had a short message on its message board: “Pali will rebuild.”

Thomas Knoll, a neighbor since 2012 who also lost his home, said he came even though he is neither a church member nor religious.

“This feels like sort of a funeral for Pacific Palisades,” he said. “The whole story of crucifixion and resurrection is appropriate here. This town will be rebuilt, but it’s going to take a long time.”

Salvaging what’s left and looking to the future

The founders of the church, which celebrated its centennial in 2022, built the town of Pacific Palisades. The church building was constructed on a 1.5-acre site donated by the Southern California Methodist Conference. Methodist church planters inspired by the Chautauqua movement, an adult education and social movement in the early 20th century, selected the location, laying the foundation for the community in 1922, offering art, music and cultural programs to residents.

“It was a peace movement,” Shaver said.

The church, before it burned down, continued in that tradition, hosting community potlucks and gatherings from weddings, funeral, baptisms, holiday celebrations, dances and plays to sports activities for area youth and Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.

While much was lost, Shaver said they were able to recover some items, including ceramic mugs and tiles. One member rescued a large metal cross that stood atop the church’s tower, which burned down. A stone cross also survived the flames.

“We’re going to try and find ways to incorporate several of those items as we rebuild,” he said.

On the church grounds before the walk commenced, Adriana Ruhman was sifting through a pile of blackened and broken ceramic tiles. Having lost most family mementos in the fire, she was closely examining them to see if she could find one than bearing the hand prints of her two children. They had made it when they attended the church’s preschool 10 years ago.

“I feel like I hit the jackpot,” she said. “Just the idea that I could find the tile my kids decorated gives me hope today.”

A Good Friday moment and Easter’s promise

Mary Katherine Breland lives in Los Angeles, but said she attended this church because it reminded her of communities in Alabama where she grew up. This was her first time coming back after the fire.

“We didn’t know what to expect, but it’s not until you see it first-hand that your emotions bubble up,” she said. “But Easter is a good time for us to start coming together again in church, reflect on the beauty of the past and look ahead to our new journey.”

Shaver said this was the first time this church had held a Good Friday cross walk. He hopes to continue this tradition in the coming years. As they neared the bluffs, a yellow sign said “End.” The group continued beyond the sign and stopped as they caught a panoramic view of the Pacific. On Easter Sunday, they’ll join Westwood United Methodist Church in Los Angeles for services.

“Even though that sign said ‘End,’ here we are taking in this amazing view,” Shaver told congregants. “So, the fire was not the end. We have a beautiful future ahead of us.”

The cross Shaver and others carried was bare on Good Friday. But come Easter Sunday, the pastor said, it will stand in a corner of their empty plot, decorated with fresh flowers as a symbol of their rebirth as a congregation.

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