Among Us
John 1:14 tells us: “And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us.” Among us. Not above us. Not distant. Among us.
When God wanted to save humanity, He didn’t send a policy manual from heaven. He didn’t issue performance standards and wait to see who could meet them. He didn’t build a perfect system and expect us to figure it out on our own.
He came among us.
This is the leadership model we’ve been given, and most of us are getting it completely wrong.
I spent years leading from behind a desk—email leadership, dashboard leadership, meeting-room leadership. Distance felt safer. I could manage my image, control the narrative, look at numbers without feeling the weight of the humans behind them.
You can’t lead people you don’t know. And you can’t know people you’re not among.
Jesus didn’t lead the disciples through quarterly reviews. He walked dusty roads with them. Ate meals with them. Watched them fail and get back up. He was there in the boat during the storm, not sending instructions from the shore.
When I finally got honest about my own brokenness, I had to stop managing my image and let people see the real me. That’s when everything changed. Not because I became a better performer, but because I finally showed up. I got among the people I was trying to lead.
That’s when I discovered what was always true. The work happens in proximity. Healing happens in presence. Trust happens when you’re close enough for people to see you’re human too.
The way Jesus actually did this is instructive. In John 4, He goes through Samaria, the place respectable Jews avoided. He sits at a well and speaks to a woman drawing water. Everything about this violated social norms. Men didn’t speak to women in public. Jews didn’t speak to Samaritans. Religious leaders certainly didn’t speak to women with questionable reputations.
But Jesus wasn’t interested in maintaining distance. This woman came to the well at noon—not dawn when other women came—because she couldn’t bear the judgment. She’d built walls to keep people out.
Jesus met her where she was. Not where she should have been. Where she was.
That’s what among looks like. It means getting close enough to see people’s actual reality, not just their performance. It means sitting in the uncomfortable places, having the hard conversations, being present in the mess.
I’ve watched leaders hide behind their titles and wonder why no one trusts them. I’ve seen executives issue vision statements from the C-suite and wonder why nothing changes on the floor. I’ve been that leader.
But Jesus shows us something different. He had all the authority in the universe and chose to set it aside. He came among us as a servant. And everything He touched was transformed—not because He wielded power from above, but because He showed love among.
The reason this matters is that presence changes everything. Grace wasn’t abstract. It was a person, showing up in my actual life. Second weekend in rehab—sitting in a church I didn’t belong in—I felt truly seen for the first time. Not judged. Not evaluated. Seen. And in that moment of being fully known, I discovered I was fully loved.
That’s what presence does. It creates the space for people to be honest, to take off the mask, to stop performing and start being real. You can’t create that space from a distance. You can’t email psychological safety into existence. You can’t manage transformation from behind closed doors.
This is what we’re trying to build at Kimray—a place where leaders are among their team, not above them. Where presence isn’t optional but essential. Where people feel safe because they know they’re truly seen.
When Jesus said, “Follow me,” He wasn’t issuing orders from a throne. He was inviting people to walk with Him.
That’s the model we’ve been given. Not leadership that maintains appropriate distance, but leadership that risks closeness. Not leadership that stays safe above the mess, but leadership that enters it willingly.
God didn’t stay distant. He came among us. And if we’re going to lead the way He led, we have to do the same. Close enough to know people’s names and their struggles. Close enough to be inconvenienced by their needs. Close enough to risk being truly seen ourselves.
That’s uncomfortable. It requires vulnerability. But it’s the only kind of leadership that actually heals and transforms people. Great leaders are among their people—not above them—because that’s the Bison Way.
I wish you a very Merry Christmas.