“The wilderness isn’t the absence of God. It’s the amplification of His presence with you.”
– Rev. Angie Frame
I’ve been sitting with this quote for a few weeks now, counting the ways in which God’s presence has been amplified for me these past few months.
On April 2nd, I entered my wilderness, giving birth to my son at 27 weeks—13 full weeks early. I was terrified. But from the very beginning, God’s presence was amplified.
When my water broke, chaos filled the room.
People rushed around my bedside, sticking me with needles, explaining what was happening as I frantically tried to update my husband, call my mother, and find a place for my sleeping three-year-old at 1 a.m.
And then suddenly, there was quiet.
I had one song on repeat in my mind that night:
Rain came, wind blew – my house was built on You.
I’m safe with You—I’m going to make it through.”
Those lines circled through my head as I was poked, prodded, and talked about.
Two nurses remained in the room. Between sobs and contractions, I asked if I could turn on music to help calm myself down. The nurses agreed, and as the first chords of Firm Foundation played softly, both gasped and exclaimed, “I LOVE this song!”
We sang quietly together—worshipping at a volume more restrained than I’m used to.
No one else entered the room while I poured out every fear I had, surrounded by two strangers who quite literally held mine and my son’s safety in their hands.
Matthew 18:20 says, “For where two or three are gathered together in My name, there am I in the midst of them.”
God was in that room; I had a “peace that makes no sense” in that moment. In my wilderness, his presence was amplified.
In the 23 years I’ve attended Passion Community Church, I’ve developed a bit of a reputation as a “pinch hitter.”
Need an extra greeter? Call Samara.
KidMin team member sick? Call Samara.
It’s Saturday night and your worship team member just had a baby? Call Samara.
“Be the hands and feet of Jesus.”
That calling has always come naturally for me.
But receiving the hands and feet of Jesus?
Absolutely not.
When I was preparing a Facebook post to announce Milo’s arrival, I turned to my husband and said, “You know it’s about to be insane, so be ready.”
We were nowhere near ready.
Suddenly, our inboxes were overflowing with encouragement, prayers, and offers to help.
I was already overwhelmed—by trauma, exhaustion, and the uncomfortable weakness of admitting we needed help. But I knew we did.
While talking with my mother, a woman I consider incredibly wise, she said, “If one of your friends was going through this, what would you say and do?”
So, I allowed myself to be vulnerable.
Because it is a massive vulnerability to let others love on you.
But God—through His church and His people—showed up.
People whose faces I only knew in passing. Friends I had drifted from. And countless others who blessed my family with the three things I had said we would need: Food, gas, and time.
The meals were a blessing as we tried to maintain some sense of order and rhythm.
There were days when I told my husband, “I’m sorry, I just don’t have it in me today,” and suddenly my phone would buzz with an offer of food—or a DoorDash gift card.
“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?”
—Matthew 6:26–27
My daughter, caught in the chaos, was scooped up for adventures, showered with little trinkets, and even sent mail.
She was shown God’s love through others in ways I could never have orchestrated, and I pray that love stays with her forever.
She received the time and attention she deserved, while we—her parents—were given the gift of time as well. Time to grieve, to rest, to be with our son, and to be with each other.
Yes, God calls us to be the church. But He also calls us to receive the church. It is a humbling thing to let yourself be loved and cared for; I am grateful that during my time in the wilderness, his love and presence were amplified in unforgettable ways.
