Vulnerability in the chaos.
How’s that for a lead-in on a reflection of the year?
Hear me out—I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re better than fine.
We’re all just trying to “figure this whole thing out.”
When I find myself trying to process something, I almost always turn to music. Just like I did in 2024, I have been drawn to a song/lyric to process the year we’re closing and the one that’s about to begin.
"If they say why, why? Tell 'em that it's human nature." — Michael Jackson
Vulnerability in the chaos.
Connection in the confusion.
Clarity in the noise.
If you're a nonprofit leader right now, you might feel like you're standing in Times Square at rush hour—a thousand signals competing for attention, all of them urgent, none of them entirely clear.
Economic uncertainty. AI disruption. Donor fatigue. Political turbulence.
The same headlines we saw last year, and the year before that, each time feeling both familiar and somehow more pressing.
Yet here we are. Still moving. Still building. Still believing that the work matters.
That's what 2025 taught me—that clarity doesn't come from the absence of noise. It comes from knowing what to listen for.
Lesson 1: Determination in the face of uncertainty
Stagnant water breeds disease but moving water brings vitality.
This year demanded movement. Not reckless motion for motion's sake but determined action rooted in purpose.
The leaders I watched succeed this year weren't the ones who waited for perfect information or clearer skies. They were the ones who made decisions with what they had, adjusted course when needed and kept their teams oriented toward impact.
Leadership in 2025 required a bias for action.
It meant testing new donor acquisition channels even when budgets were tight. It meant trying that new stewardship approach before you had proof it would work. It meant admitting when something wasn't working and pivoting quickly rather than hoping trends would reverse themselves.
Here’s the proof:
The water keeps moving. So must we.
Lesson 2: Humanity in the age of AI
This year, artificial intelligence shifted from novelty to necessity. It's optimizing email send times, drafting social posts, analyzing donor segments and a hundred other things that make our work faster and smarter. And that's good. We should leverage these tools.
But here's what I keep reminding myself and my team: Philanthropy literally means "love of humanity."
Don't worship at the altar of efficiency. Don't let automation replace the beating heart of what we do.
AI can help you work smarter, but it cannot—and should not—replace the purpose that drives you. Your donors aren't giving to algorithms. They're giving because someone made them feel something. Because they believe in a mission. Because another human being connected with them in a way that mattered.
My colleague Charles Lehosit puts some meat on the bone in this LinkedIn post.
Purpose is the driving beat of every nonprofit leader's heart. Don't lose that in the pursuit of scale.
Lesson 3: Trust is still everything in fundraising
The Q3 Fundraising Effectiveness Project data dropped last week, and honestly? The headlines felt familiar.
Donors are declining. New acquisition is down 10.2% year over year. Large donors are carrying the load. Mid-level donors represent untapped opportunity. We've read some version of this story before. It’s starting to sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher.
So what are we going to do about it?
The FEP report points to something crucial.
The donor retention rate increased slightly, by 0.15 percentage points. Small, yes—but meaningful. It suggests that the sector's increased focus on stewardship might actually be working.
And here's the thread that connects it all: The AFP Catalyst research identifies trust as a key indicator of donor retention, emphasizing competence, ethics and transparency as "trust pillars." (This echoes RKD's 2023 study on trust, which we called Solid Gold—the beats are consistent.)
Trust is built through transparency and competence. You can scale tactics around this—impact reporting, personalized stewardship, thoughtful communication frequency—but underneath all of it, your approach to connecting with donors must be rooted in humanity.
Because that's what builds trust. Not the sophistication of your CRM. Not the cleverness of your segmentation.
The genuine human connection that says: We see you, we value you and we will honor your trust in us.
As the FEP report notes, mid-level donors ($501-$5K) represent one of the most promising opportunities right now. They're relatively stable, contributing 16% of total dollars, and they respond disproportionately well to meaningful engagement.
But "meaningful" is the operative word. These donors aren't looking for more sophisticated automation—they're looking for someone to see them as individuals, not transaction records.
Lesson 4: Showing up as humans
Two trends this year gave me hope—both because they worked and because they reminded me why we do this work in the first place.
First: authenticity in organic social media. We've spent years trying to game algorithms and craft perfect brand voices. But you know what's actually cutting through? Real people, telling real stories, in their own voices. There's something strategically brilliant about being truthful in your tone by simply telling it yourself. No corporate polish. No committee-approved messaging. Just a human being speaking to other human beings about work that matters.
Second: the resurgence of direct mail performance. As research legend Josh McQueen once told me, "Channels don't die. They evolve." Across many segments, we're seeing direct mail drive meaningful connection—not in spite of being old-fashioned but because of it. In a digital world drowning in notifications, there's intimacy in receiving an actual letter. The tactile experience of opening an envelope, holding a physical piece of mail, reading words someone put effort into sending—that's a tangible representation of humanity. And it's working.
Both of these trends point to the same truth: People crave genuine human connection. They're tired of being marketed to.
They want to be seen, understood and invited into something real. For the love of humanity.
Finding your clarity
So here's what I learned in 2025: Clarity in the noise doesn't mean eliminating all the competing signals. It means knowing what matters.
What matters is movement. Keep testing, keep learning, keep adjusting. Stagnant water breeds disease.
What matters is humanity. Use AI to amplify your impact, not to replace your purpose.
What matters is trust. Build it through transparency, competence and genuine connection. Then protect it fiercely.
What matters is showing up authentically. Whether that's through a handwritten letter or an unpolished social video, people recognize and respond to realness.
In his song “Human Nature,” Michael Jackson asked, "Why do they do me that way?" Maybe the better question for us as nonprofit leaders is: "Why do we do this work?"
Because when you know the answer to that—when you can articulate it clearly and let it guide every decision—all the noise becomes just noise. And what remains is the signal that matters: human beings, helping other human beings, building a better world together.
That's human nature at its best.
And that's worth fighting for in 2026.
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