Running a nonprofit is personal, pressure-filled, and painful. Leaders need more support.

Last month, a local nonprofit leader, Miles Wilson, the CEO of EducationWorks, died suddenly at age 49. After his death, the organization laid off 133 workers, citing a “serious financial shortfall due to outstanding accounts receivable and operating costs,” caused by delays of “significant payment for services already rendered to local and state providers.” In other words, the organization hadn’t yet received payments for work it’d already performed.

To many of us in the nonprofit sector, Wilson’s passing served as a cautionary tale for the heavy burden we all carry for the organizations we lead and the communities we serve.

Nonprofit work is sometimes viewed by many as “God’s work.”

The assumption is that the individuals who pursue this work do so because of their personal mission, as well as an admirable commitment to compassion and charity.

But the truth is more complicated than that.

I’ve worked with nonprofits for more than three decades. Running a nonprofit is not a feel-good story where the endings are heartwarming, and the leaders are always rewarded for their selflessness. The reality is that it is very difficult work, oftentimes led by individuals who must do a lot with little, who must innovate while constantly seeking creative ways to simply keep the engine running. These leaders work in an environment where the cost of delivering services goes up every year, while the funding for such services remains the same.

Running a nonprofit is not a feel-good story.

All of the pressure to lead with insufficient resources creates a pressure cooker environment. Those within the nonprofit sector adjust to its dysfunction, sometimes at their own peril. For Black nonprofit professionals, leadership is even more lonely, and the burden they carry is compounded by a weighty personal responsibility to uplift a community with whom they share strong cultural bonds.

Often, they are drawn to this sector by their own lived experiences — good and bad. This personal experience — the deep understanding of the importance of their work, of the people who count on them to do it — only exacerbates the pressure.

In many cases, these Black nonprofit leaders employ staff who look like them and reflect the demographics of the communities they serve. Consequently, their responsibility is twofold: to raise sufficient resources to ensure the delivery of quality programs and services for the community, and to sustain the staff of folks to do the work.

Therein lies the rub for the Black nonprofit leader.

When your life’s vocation is to uplift your community, but transformational change doesn’t happen overnight, how do you think it feels when change feels like it comes slowly — or sometimes not at all? It feels like you’ve let down your community — the one you’ve dedicated your life to fighting for. It feels awful.

For most Black nonprofit leaders, this isn’t just a job. It’s personal. Success feels personal. Failure feels personal. Emotional stress and burnout are the norm.

The nonprofit leaders in our area are feeling this lately.

» READ MORE: When evaluating Philly’s anti-violence programs, ‘failure’ is in the eye of the beholder | Solomon Jones

For years, I’ve advocated on behalf of Black nonprofit leaders to have the resources they need to be successful. Culturally competent executive coaching, mentorship, connections with regional funders — all this and more are necessary to optimize performance.

One thing is clear: This is very hard work, and Black nonprofit leaders need the resources — in both mental health and professional development — to replenish and restore themselves for the work they have taken on.

What would happen if a Black nonprofit leader of a large service provider was facing financial struggles that threatened its operation? Would that nonprofit get bailed out, like our banks we deem too important to fail? No.

The untimely death of our friend and colleague is a crucial reminder of the unsustainable pressure nonprofit leaders face, and the urgent need to reset the way we fund and support these organizations.

A 2016 report that surveyed white and Black leaders of local nonprofits found that Black-led nonprofits are more likely to rely on government funding — which comes with extensive bureaucracy that can slow down payments — and have little cash reserves needed to support themselves in the case of an emergency. Both conditions typically threaten an organization’s solvency and its mere existence.

Black nonprofit leaders are chided to diversify their funding base so as not to rely on one source of revenue. But in a competitive fundraising environment, that’s easier said than done.

There is no shame in leading an organization that is beset with financial struggles. The shame is that many Black nonprofit leaders suffer in silence while shouldering significant burdens for circumstances that are simply out of their control.

It’s often been said that in every crisis, there lurks an opportunity. With that said, the Black nonprofit community, in partnership with the United Way of Greater Philadelphia and Southern New Jersey and Enon Tabernacle Baptist Church, has rallied to help displaced employees from EducationWorks find opportunities. But beyond this effort, the need for structural change is critical to have a strong, effective nonprofit community capable of solving our city’s most pressing problems. Anything less than that would mean the sacrifices made would have simply been in vain.

Kelly S. Woodland is the managing director for leadership equity for the United Way of Greater Philadelphia and Southern New Jersey.