Grounding Your Work in a Living Theory of Change

Many of us are running community-rooted organizations in the middle of overlapping crises: racial injustice, political whiplash, public health strain, climate disasters, economic instability. And somehow, in all this, we’re still trying to show up, serve people, build power, and keep our orgs afloat.

We’re launching programs while troubleshooting the printer. Organizing mutual aid while applying for our own food assistance. Writing grant reports while fielding text messages about emergency housing. It’s constant. And it’s exhausting.

In this kind of environment, strategy can start to feel like a luxury. Like a thing we’ll get to when the fires stop.

But what if it’s the opposite?

What if the only way to survive the fire is to hold on to the strategy that reminds us why we’re doing this at all?

That’s why returning to our core strategy—what we sometimes call a Theory of Change—isn’t a distraction. It’s a way to check our bones.

Not in a clinical, over-intellectual way—but like when you walk through an old house and someone says, “It’s got good bones.” It’s shorthand for: the structure is sound, the purpose is clear, the foundation is strong—even if the paint’s peeling or the windows stick.

That’s what a good Theory of Change gives you. Not perfection. But something sturdy enough to hold the work you’re doing—and flexible enough to be remodeled when needed.

Because if the foundation is cracked, no amount of hustle will hold it up. Revisiting or rebuilding a Theory of Change helps us reconnect to what’s essential. It helps us ask: Are our day-to-day decisions still in service of the deeper change we’re here to make?

When the world is on fire, a Theory of Change isn’t about adding structure for the sake of structure—it’s about protecting our energy, our mission, and each other from being pulled in every direction.

Let’s start there.

“What even is a Theory of Change?”

If you’ve ever sat through a funder workshop or strategic planning session and thought,“Are y’all even speaking English?”—and more importantly, “Is this even relevant to what we actually do?”—you’re not alone.

That disconnection is real.

Because when your days are packed with logistics, people, crises, and wins, it’s hard to see how a theoretical framework scribbled on a whiteboard connects to your real-world hustle. And if it feels like a waste of time, it’s probably because no one has taken the time to build it with you, or explain how it actually helps make your work easier, more strategic, and more fundable.

A strong Theory of Change isn’t supposed to complicate your work. It’s supposed to anchor it. To create alignment, consistency, and shared language that new staff, volunteers, and even funders can step into and understand.

If it’s not doing that? The problem isn’t you. It’s the process.

You’re not alone.

Here’s the thing: For a lot of grassroots and small nonprofits, a Theory of Change often feels like an academic exercise—a glossy chart that lives in a board doc or grant proposal, disconnected from the real work.

Meanwhile, your team is out here:

• Translating flyers

• Setting up tables at events

• Helping people in crisis

• Juggling 5 roles on a shoestring budget

And then someone drops, “Let’s revisit our Theory of Change.”And it’s like… cool. But also: what does that even have to do with what I’m doing Tuesday morning?

Let’s reframe that.

Because here’s the reality: if we don’t reframe it—if we let the Theory of Change stay abstract, disconnected, or performative—then we’re just setting people up to burn out or miss the point entirely.

The beauty of a real Theory of Change is that it grounds you. It becomes a tool for managing chaos, anchoring your 'yes' and your 'no' with purpose. When it’s done right—and done together—it’s not extra work. It’s the foundation for doing less, but better.

So when your team is overwhelmed and someone suggests tabling the Theory of Change conversation because “we don’t have time,” remind them:

That’s exactly why we need one.

Because when every decision feels urgent and everything feels personal, you don’t need a 47-tab spreadsheet or another logic model. You need shared clarity about what matters most.

That’s not a waste of time. That’s the only way this work becomes sustainable.

A Theory of Change is not about optics.

It’s about alignment—between your vision, your work, and your resources.

Done right, it becomes a real-time compass, not a vanity diagram. And that compass matters—not just for your programs, but for your daily decisions, especially when resources are tight and needs are overwhelming.

A well-built Theory of Change helps you:

• Make decisions when everything feels urgent.

• Prioritize based on long-term impact, not just short-term pressure.

• Navigate tensions between immediate care and systemic transformation.

Because the truth is, grassroots work is emotionally charged. It’s human. You're responding to trauma, scarcity, injustice—in real time. So when a team member asks, "Should we buy food for this family even if it throws off our monthly budget?" or "Do we take on this new partnership even if it stretches our capacity?"—you need something deeper than a mission statement. You need a guidepost.

That’s what a real Theory of Change does.

It connects the micro to the macro. It reminds your team that their choices are not isolated—they're part of a larger strategy. And when you’ve built it together, it becomes a shared language, a way to stay grounded when urgency threatens to pull you in too many directions.

It’s not just a map—it’s a way of making values actionable, every day.

So let’s break it down in two ways:

The Real 5W’s + H

• What are we trying to change? What systems, conditions, or lived experiences?

• Who is most affected by the issue—and who needs to be part of the change process?

• Where does this change need to happen? What communities, what spaces, what power structures?

• When should we expect to see outcomes—and how do we pace ourselves along the way?

• Why does this matter to our mission, our people, our moment in history?

• How will we get there—what steps, resources, relationships, and strategies are needed?

  
  

The 5 Why’s

A useful method for grounding your Theory of Change is to ask, "Why?"—not once, but repeatedly.

This technique is sometimes called the “5 Why’s,” but the number isn’t what matters. It might take three, it might take seven. The point is to dig deeper, to push past the surface-level explanations and uncover what’s really driving the issue you’re trying to address.

It’s less about a fixed formula and more about building the muscle of critical thinking—of refusing to accept the first, most obvious answer when you know the real change lives several layers down.

This practice helps move your work from tasks to transformation. It reveals how your programs connect to systems, and where your organization has the power—or needs the support—to intervene.

Example:

• We offer bilingual workshops.

  • Why? Because people aren’t accessing services in their native language.

  • Why? Because most orgs don’t budget for interpretation.

  • Why? Because they don’t see it as essential.

  • Why? Because they’re not accountable to immigrant communities.

  • Why? Because those communities are excluded from decision-making.

Suddenly, your "workshop" isn’t just an event—it’s part of a systemic challenge to exclusion and erasure. That’s what a Theory of Change is supposed to uncover.

Here’s how it should work instead:

• Start with lived reality. Begin with what’s already happening—what your staff and volunteers do every day. Don’t assume; ask. What’s working well? Where are the friction points? Your Theory of Change should reflect real patterns, not theoretical ideals.

• Map it together. This is not a solo writing task. Host a work session. Use sticky notes, Google Jamboard, butcher paper—whatever invites collaboration. Involve your people. If they’re doing the work, they should shape the story.

• Define the change you want—clearly. Say what you mean. Instead of “empower youth,” try “help 100 teens build leadership skills to advocate for safer schools in the next 12 months.” Be concrete. Don’t rely on buzzwords.

• Work backward from the outcome. If that’s the change, what needs to be true for it to happen? What activities lead to what short-term outcomes? What conditions need to shift? What resources or partnerships are essential? This part is messy—but clarifying.

• Make it visible. Make it usable. Don’t let it collect dust. Use it during onboarding. Print it and post it. Bring it to program meetings and planning sessions. Reference it in your grantwriting. A good ToC becomes part of your muscle memory—not just your Dropbox folder.

The goal isn’t perfection. It’s clarity. Clarity that connects vision to action. Clarity that allows a volunteer to know why their role matters, or helps a program coordinator make tough decisions under pressure. Clarity that aligns your highest hopes with your daily reality.

A strong Theory of Change doesn’t just help funders understand your strategy—it helps your team understand each other. It sharpens priorities when everything feels like a fire. It creates a shared language that eases onboarding, fuels collaboration, and keeps your mission from drifting.

And when built with intention and honesty, it becomes more than a static diagram. It’s a living, breathing tool—something you return to when things get messy, uncertain, or hard. It reminds you: this is what we’re here to do.

Because without that clarity? You end up in those all-too-familiar situations:

• Someone spends $300 on Costco sheet cake for a community event that only 8 people attend—because “it felt like the right thing to do.”

• A staffer greenlights a last-minute flyer run to a printer that’s been ghosting you for weeks—because “we needed something, right?”

• You agree to a new grant partnership that sounds great until you realize you now need a deliverable in 12 days and 6 languages—with no additional staff.

These aren’t just funny stories—they’re symptoms of deeper misalignment.

Without a clear Theory of Change, everything feels urgent, everything feels justified, and everything feels personal. And in that chaos, we start reacting instead of leading.

But with a strong Theory of Change? You can pause. You can say:

“This isn’t in our current scope. Is it urgent enough to shift priorities—or is it something we park for next quarter?”

“Our north star is building leadership capacity—not just service delivery. Does this request support that, or distract from it?”

“We’re trying to change the system, not just patch the harm. So how do we respond to this ask in a way that builds toward that?”

That’s the power of a good Theory of Change:Not to make your life harder—but to give you something solid to stand on when the ground keeps shifting.

So no, it’s not about buzzwords or funder fluff.It’s about giving your team a fighting chance to make strategic, mission-aligned decisions in a chaotic, under-resourced world.

If your Theory of Change doesn’t make sense to the people doing the work, support the decisions they’re making, or reflect the reality you’re in? Then it’s not a Theory of Change.It’s a Theory of Abstraction.

Let’s build ones that actually work—in practice, not just on paper.

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