This Saturday, Glide Memorial Church’s dedicated team of Easter Bunnies gathered to give the children of the Tenderloin the time of their lives! In Freedom Hall, they played games like jenga and cornhole, made bunny hats, picked up coloring and picture books, and took pictures with an Easter Snoopy.
In the sanctuary, the children dashed about to find all the chocolate, candy and eggs our volunteer bunnies had cunningly hidden: 1500 eggs/treats in total (not counting the tootsie rolls). For years, our volunteers have followed this tradition of bringing joy to the families of the Tenderloin.
They started the tradition to help out an FYCC teacher who was like a foster mom to all the whole children of the neighborhood– and now, even though the teacher has passed, the tradition continues in her memory. Watch to the end of our Instagram video to hear a little bit of her story.
On Easter itself, worshippers gathered bright and early for a sunrise service. The sun had yet to peek through a dreamy curtain of fog, when Marvin K. White, Minister of Celebration first bellowed, “Good morning, GLIDE!”
A chorus of good mornings echoed across the sanctuary. “I said GOOD MORNING,” repeated Minister Marvin. “Say it so everyone waking up on the sidewalk outside can hear you!” A resounding GOOD MORNING ricocheted through the air, spilling Glide’s iconic enthusiasm and goodwill into the pews and the foggy streets below.
On this holy morning, early risers came for a reflection on the Last Supper; to honor the holiest of days following Jesus’ triumphant return to Jerusalem and before his crucifixion. “The Last Supper at Glide is a communion that takes the form of a hot meal in freedom hall, a clean syringe at our health access hub, and the bold and beautiful lashes of our trans brothers and sisters,” proclaimed Minister Marvin. “Here, nobody is screened for worthiness and everyone has a seat at the table.”
Easter is a homecoming at Glide; an invitation to come exactly as you are. “Bring your hunger, your grief, your shame, your failed resolutions with you,” implored Minister Marvin. “Bring your appetite for home and for healing inside these walls. Because God does not sit at private tables. God breaks bread on sidewalks and in barbershops and recovery circles.”
Slowly, the sun began to stream through the stained glass windows in the form of a rainbow on the wall. Grief turned into groove and Glide gave revelations a rhythm. The soul of Easter was rising, and the day had just begun.
The 9am service continued the arc of Christ’s story by diving deep into the Crucifixion. The church opened the space for suffering and heartbreak through communal prayers, stirring music, and personal testimonies, uplifting both lament and hope.
Minister Marvin spoke of how communion is more than just a ritual at GLIDE: it’s a warm meal, sober support from our Health Access team, a seat in our walk in Center or support in our Women’s Center groups. Everyone is served family style.
The Glide resident poet, Ramona Laughing Brook Webb, prompted the congregation to write about “What does it mean to truly live? What’s something you feel called to do right now?” What better way to experience Resurrection Sunday than to explore the ways in which we crave to be reborn.
The 11am service focused on the resurrection of Christ– not just as an event in itself– but as a symbol for recovery. For many years, Reverend Cecil Williams asked us to see the crucified Jesus in the sufferings of low-income and unhoused people in the Tenderloin. Finding recovery, a safe home, a more stable life, is the resurrection of their hopes and dreams.
We were especially happy to celebrate with Kimberly Williams, daughter of Reverend Cecil Williams. She shared memories of her father and the love he poured into this church. His spirit lives on in every Celebration and everyone walking through our doors.
The service ended with a reminder that recovery isn’t where the journey stops. It’s where new life begins. At Glide Memorial Church, we believe renewal means more than healing ourselves. It means reaching back to help someone else find their way too. Resurrection lives in the moments we rise together, not alone.