Incarnational Presence: The Only Way I Know to Love a City Well
When you move close to a problem, faces replace labels and data turns into names. That’s when the work gets honest. And costly. And good.
Most of what we call “community problems” are actually relationship problems that hardened over time. Policy matters. Budgets matter. But trust is the engine. And trust doesn’t grow at arm’s length. It grows when leaders choose presence. Incarnational Presence means you live with, work among, and keep showing up for the very people you hope to serve. It’s the difference between talking about a neighborhood and being a neighbor in it.
Gail and I moved into York City in 2006. Friends told us not to. High taxes. Dangerous streets. Too many people who didn’t look like us. We moved anyway. Our kids went to school here. We worshiped here. We learned our neighbors’ names. And slowly the city’s issues stopped being “out there.” They were on our block, at our church, in our inbox. Presence stripped away caricatures and gave us eyes to see.
“Incarnational Presence says: consider living in the place you serve.”
Incarnational Presence suggests you get as close to the problem as possible. When you do, two things happen. First, your questions get better. Wonder wakes up. Why are things this way? Who benefits if they stay this way? What’s the history I’ve missed? Second, your patience deepens. You discover that “wicked problems” are complex knots, not loose threads. That reshapes your expectations from quick wins to faithful, durable progress.
Consider public safety. In 2016, York’s Black clergy and local police sat down together for what many thought would be an explosion. It wasn’t. Quiet apologies were offered. Stories were heard. We kept meeting. Month after month. Friendship grew where suspicion once lived. Presence made that possible. You can’t build trust through press releases. You build it in rooms where people listen, tell the truth, and keep showing up.
Over time, those relationships birthed shared work. Chiefs & Clergy stayed at the table. A broader network formed. The York County SafetyCollab emerged. Collaboration replaced turf. Equipment was upgraded, training was funded, and leaders coordinated instead of competing. That is what presence can yield when trust matures into partnership.
Presence will test you. Kids and parents will ask the trust question: Who are you, really? Will you be here next year when the headlines move on and the grant ends? Only consistency answers that. You don’t need to be the loudest leader. Just the most present one.
If you’re leading in a town like mine, start with three moves:
Move closer. If you can’t live there, then plant your hours there. Work there. Worship there. Eat there. Let your calendar prove your care.
Learn the story. Meet a local historian. Walk the blocks with elders who remember what the rest of us forgot. Context converts opinions into wisdom.
Show up long enough for trust to grow. In relationally complex places, trust is the narrow road that everything else drives on. Set expectations accordingly.
Presence won’t solve everything. But without it, nothing important holds. When leaders move into the neighborhood, the narrative changes. Labels begin to fall away. People link arms. And the good that once felt unlikely starts to show up in the very streets where hope felt thin.
