It was the largest church project I'd ever worked on—a year-long outreach campaign that would include radio and television announcements, newspaper ads, and direct mail. The benefits for the church would be enormous. Implementation was at hand. Then the telephone rang.

"I hate to say it," Bernie said, his voice sounding strained, "but I've been promoted by my company. I won't have as much free time, so I've got to resign the board. You do understand how sorry I am?"

Of course I understood. As chairman of the board, I had no choice. I also knew what Bernie's resignation meant to our project. He was the key man. It had been his idea. He had written the plan, nursed it along, sold it to the pastor and our board. No one had the vision for that project like Bernie. Now, practically on the eve of its fruition, Bernie was leaving.

"It's going to set us back," I told him. "But we'll get it done." I was wrong. The project died a slow and painful death.

It was no one's fault really, but at the ...