Transformational Presence.

I’ve been discovering anew the meaning of presence. The critical art that enables us as coaches to offer hospitality and safety for a person to be known, seen, accepted and welcomed.

In a season of illness my life is formed by the miniscule moments that pull me into presence without thought of the future. To ponder nature on a slow walk or listen out for the Father’s voice in the slowness of the day.

No one exemplifies the art of presence more than Jesus. There’s a golden thread through the gospel stories that demonstrate his ability to be completely focused on the person, to cultivate an atmosphere filled with acceptance and love that creates the backdrop for a divine moment of transformation.

One of my favourite stories that helps us understands this well is Jesus encounter with Zacchaeus.

The name Zacchaeus means “pure” or “innocent.” Yet when we meet him in Luke 19, he is known for anything but purity. Among his own people, Zacchaeus is recognised as a sinner — not simply because he collected taxes, but because he had become wealthy through a system marked by corruption and exploitation.

Luke tells us Zacchaeus was a chief tax collector, the only person in Scripture given that specific title. He wasn’t just participating in Rome’s taxation system; he was overseeing others who did the same. Tax collectors were notorious for taking more than required, and Zacchaeus had likely built both his wealth and influence on the suffering of his own community.

He was rich in money and powerful in position, yet deeply poor in belonging.

Excluded from the life of the Jewish community, likely unwelcome in worship and distrusted by his own people, Zacchaeus lived with the tension of outward success and inward isolation. It’s a familiar theme in Luke’s Gospel, where again and again we see Jesus move toward the marginalised, the rejected, and the morally compromised.

So what drew Zacchaeus to Jesus?

Perhaps it was curiosity. Perhaps he had heard stories about miracles and wondered whether Jesus was truly a prophet. Or perhaps, beneath the wealth and status, there was a longing to be seen differently.

Luke notes that Zacchaeus was “small in stature.” Unable to see over the crowd, he climbs a sycamore tree. What strikes me is that he doesn’t force his way to the front or demand attention. Instead, he positions himself quietly — wanting to see Jesus without necessarily being seen himself.

But Jesus sees him.

Out of all the people surrounding Him, Jesus stops beneath the tree, looks up, and calls Zacchaeus by name:

“Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.”

What an extraordinary moment.

Jesus does not begin by confronting Zacchaeus’ sin. He doesn’t shame him publicly or list the ways he needs to change. He doesn’t offer advice, correction, or a sermon.

Instead, Jesus offers presence.

He calls Zacchaeus by name. He invites Himself into Zacchaeus’ home. In a culture where shared meals symbolised acceptance and relationship, Jesus takes a man living in shame and restores him to dignity and honour.

And it is from this place of acceptance that transformation begins.

Zacchaeus willingly responds with repentance and generosity, but his transformation does not begin with condemnation. It begins with being fully seen and fully welcomed.

I think there is something deeply important here for those of us who walk alongside others.

So often we feel pressure to fix people. To advise them. To improve them. To focus on weaknesses, behaviours, or performance. Yet Jesus shows us another way.

He begins with presence.

To truly acknowledge the person in front of us — to remind them they are worthy of being seen, heard, and known without judgement or shame — is a sacred gift. When we hold that kind of space for others, we create room for the Holy Spirit to do the transformational work only He can do.

Presence is not passive. It is powerful.

In coaching, we are not simply offering tools, strategies, or solutions. We are offering hospitality for the whole person. We are inviting people into a space where they can fully show up before God without fear of condemnation.

Because transformation rooted in grace will always go deeper than change driven by shame.