I recently wrapped up Netflix's true crime docuseries Worst Neighbor Ever. One episode follows the story of a young family in Oakland, California, who purchased their dream home with plans of settling down. The husband, Miles, was described as a devoted family man who was respected by friends and neighbors alike. He had a friendly relationship with a neighbor named JT, occasionally asking him to help with small projects and chores around the house.

After the property JT and his family had rented for years changed ownership, they were forced to move. The situation appeared to have a significant impact on JT, who, after a series of events, allegedly began targeting Miles and his family. What started as a disagreement one Thanksgiving evening escalated over several months into harassment, threats, property damage, restraining orders, repeated police involvement and ultimately a devastating tragedy that ended with Miles being fatally shot outside his home.

As with most true crime documentaries, it is easy to watch from the comfort of our couches and convince ourselves we would have acted differently. With the benefit of hindsight, the warning signs seem glaringly obvious. In real life, however, clarity is rarely that simple.

I wrote a blog last year praising one of the nonprofit sector's greatest strengths: empathy. I still believe empathy is the catalyst for meaningful change and stronger communities. But as is often the case, our greatest strengths can also become our greatest vulnerabilities.

The takeaway I couldn't shake from Miles' story was this:

Trust. Your. Gut.

It sounds simple enough. Most of us would probably say we already do. But the nonprofit sector is largely made up of what Fred Rogers called "the helpers." We are wired to believe in people, extend grace, assume positive intent and see potential where others might see problems.

At its best, those qualities transform lives and communities.

At its worst, they leave organizations vulnerable to people who know exactly how to exploit them.

Over the years, both professionally and personally, I have become increasingly convinced of a few things.

When people show you who they are, believe them.

That does not mean people cannot grow, learn or change. It does mean leaders should pay attention to patterns instead of repeatedly explaining them away. Character reveals itself over time. So does integrity. So do motives.

Tragedy and organizational failure rarely just “happen.”

Whether it is fraud, misconduct, a toxic workplace culture, a leadership crisis or a damaged reputation, there are often warning signs long before the situation reaches a breaking point. Small concerns get dismissed. Difficult conversations get postponed. Red flags are rationalized. Temporary discomfort is avoided until it becomes permanent damage.

As nonprofit leaders, we have a responsibility to steward our organizations well. Stewardship is not limited to managing finances, fundraising or strategic plans. It also means protecting culture, preserving trust and addressing toxic situations before they consume valuable organizational resources.

And make no mistake, toxic situations are expensive.

They cost time. They cost energy. They cost focus. They cost morale. They often cost money.

Most importantly, they pull us away from the mission.

After years in this sector, it is disheartening to watch good people and strong organizations exhaust tremendous amounts of effort managing situations that should have been addressed much earlier. Every hour spent navigating preventable dysfunction is an hour not spent serving the community.

The nonprofit sector is particularly susceptible because, by nature, we want to see the best in people. The same can be true of faith communities. Unfortunately, I believe individuals with harmful intentions often recognize that. Predators thrive in environments where they are likely to receive the benefit of the doubt. They understand how to leverage compassion, manipulate trust and avoid accountability.

That is why kindness should never come at the expense of discernment.

Holding up a mirror to the facts does not make you the problem.

Too often, the person who raises concerns becomes the person under scrutiny. Naming a problem is not the same thing as creating one. Presenting facts is not unfair. Asking questions is not disloyal. Sometimes leadership requires the courage to say what others are unwilling to say.

As Taylor Swift famously put it:

"Never be so kind, you forget to be clever. Never be so clever, you forget to be kind."

Or, in simpler terms: Nobody should mistake your kindness for weakness.

This is not a plea to go looking for problems where none exist. The world has enough cynicism already.

Rather, it is permission to act when concerns arise.

Address issues early.

Ask difficult questions.

Seek counsel.

Investigate respectfully.

Have the uncomfortable conversation.

Temporary discomfort is often the price we pay to avoid much larger consequences later.

As I've become more involved in the finance side of my work at Armstrong McGuire, this lesson has only become more apparent. Finance demands a high degree of integrity. It requires attention to detail, accountability and the willingness to follow facts even when they are inconvenient. Temptation exists in every sector, and nonprofits are no exception.

One of the most practical ways I have learned to trust my gut is by grounding myself in my core values, or what my colleague David Middleton refers to as our "pillars."

Your gut is not magic.

Instead, it is your experiences, observations, values and instincts alerting you when something feels out of alignment.

The feeling itself may be instinctive. Learning to trust it and act on it is a skill.

Write things down. Talk with a trusted advisor. Give concerns enough space to be examined instead of ignored. Build teams that complement your weaknesses. If confrontation is not your strength, surround yourself with people who can have difficult conversations with confidence and care. If you are naturally skeptical, balance yourself with people who lead with empathy.

Strong leaders know where they need support.

For me, returning to core values is often the best place to start. At Armstrong McGuire, values like integrity and results provide a compass when situations become complicated. Values help us determine what deserves our attention and what requires action.

At the end of the day, the nonprofit sector needs kind people.

But it also needs courageous ones.

People who are willing to trust their instincts, address problems early, protect their organizations and stay focused on what matters most.

Because the mission is too important to be distracted by what we already knew needed attention.

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