Pacifica Stories

One year ago, the Palisades Fire reshaped our landscape, and with it, the lives of so many in our community. In the immediate aftermath, the devastation was visible and overwhelming: evacuations, lost homes and businesses, dislocated families, and the sudden erasure of familiar places filled with memory and meaning. The grief was raw. The shock was fresh. The need was urgent.

A year later, the story has not ended; it has deepened.

The night of the fire remains vivid for Sue and me. We stayed up late, texting friends, watching the news, praying, and trying to grasp the scale of what was unfolding. Sometime after midnight, I turned to Sue and asked, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She said yes. We didn’t need to say it out loud. We understood that this moment would call for more than a brief response. It would require presence, patience, and, as Pastor Eugene Peterson puts it, “along obedience in the same direction.” In that moment, as homes burned and lives were upended, we made a commitment to engage for the long haul. We wanted to be a part of the healing process to see the joy that would come after a decade or so of unified work within our community.

One year later, that conviction remains.

Rebuilding is slow. Healing takes time. While headlines fade and attention shifts elsewhere, the real work often becomes harder. Fatigue sets in. This is frequently the season when suffering grows quieter, but no less real.

And it is precisely here that hope must mature, and we must continue to engage.

Hope is no longer loud or urgent, a year later. It is steadier. More resilient. It shows up in small, faithful steps, neighbors checking in, families pressing on, institutions choosing to stay engaged even when progress feels incremental. Hope looks like continuing to walk with one another when the easy moments have passed.

At Pacifica, we remain committed to that long walk. We want to be here not just in the moment of crisis, but years from now, when homes are rebuilt, when communities feel whole again, and when stories of restoration can be told. We want to take daily steps alongside friends, families, and institutions, trusting God to bring beauty from ashes and meaning from brokenness.

We believe deeply that we were created to bear one another’s burdens. When we enter into difficulty, relying not on our own strength, but on Christ’s, we discover joy, purpose, and a deeper sense of calling. This is not a burden we carry reluctantly; it is a privilege.

Scripture reminds us that there is a time for everything under the sun: a time to grieve and a time to rejoice, a time to remember and a time to rebuild. One year later, we are still holding space for all of it. We suffer with those who suffer. We remain present. And we do not suffer without hope.

Our hope is anchored in the One who never leaves or forsakes us, who makes all things new, and who has already written the final chapter of our story. That hope does not deny pain; it sustains us through it.

One year later, we remain resolute. We remain engaged. We remain grateful for a community that has shown courage, compassion, and perseverance. And we remain, proudly and faithfully, Palisades Strong.