November 14, 2026
What do you do when a plan you’ve worked hard to create stops working?
It’s a question every leader eventually faces.
You’ve invested time, energy, resources, and perhaps a considerable amount of personal credibility into a particular approach.
You’ve thought it through. You’ve involved others. You’ve communicated the vision. You’ve established expectations.
And now something has changed.
Maybe the results aren’t what you anticipated.
Maybe the circumstances have shifted.
Maybe an unexpected obstacle has made the original approach impractical.
Or perhaps the plan is technically working, but you’re beginning to wonder whether it’s accomplishing what you really hoped it would.
What now?
Do you push harder?
Do you make adjustments?
Do you abandon the whole thing?
Those aren’t easy questions, especially when other people are depending on your leadership.
But I’ve discovered that one of the most important things we can do in those moments is resist the temptation to answer too quickly.
Because the real issue may not be whether the plan is working.
It may be whether we’re still clear about what the plan was supposed to accomplish.
The Program I Almost Abandoned
A few years ago, I developed a program called the Dream Accelerator.
The idea was to bring people together for an immersive, two-day, in-person experience that would help them clarify their dreams and begin moving toward them.
Afterward, participants would receive ongoing online coaching.
I loved the concept.
There was something energizing about gathering people together, helping them imagine possibilities, and watching their dreams begin to take shape.
But there was a problem.
People weren’t consistently showing up for the follow-up coaching.
And that frustrated me.
Because I knew the real work of pursuing a dream didn’t end after two days. In many ways, it was just beginning.
Still, the program had value, and I was committed to it.
Then COVID hit.
Suddenly, gathering people together in person wasn’t possible.
And when your entire program is built around a two-day, in-person experience, that’s a pretty significant problem!
I almost scrapped the whole thing.
But then I began asking a different question.
Instead of asking, “How can I preserve the program I’ve created?”
I started asking, “What am I really trying to accomplish?”
And that question changed everything.
The purpose of the Dream Accelerator wasn’t to get people into a room for two days.
It was to help people discover, clarify, and pursue their dreams.
The two-day event was simply the method I’d chosen.
And once I separated the purpose from the method, new possibilities began to emerge.
We redesigned the experience to work online.
And something unexpected happened.
It got better.
The conversations became deeper.
Participants received more consistent coaching and support.
And perhaps most surprisingly, they developed friendships and relationships that continue to this day.
The disruption didn’t simply force us to adapt.
It helped us discover a better way to accomplish our purpose.
That experience taught me something I’ve carried into my work with leaders ever since.
Sometimes the obstacle isn’t preventing us from accomplishing our purpose. It’s exposing a weakness in the way we’ve been trying to accomplish it.
So when your plan stops working, how do you know what to do?
Here are five questions worth asking.
This is where I’d begin.
Not with the plan.
With the purpose.
What is the result we’re ultimately trying to achieve?
What difference are we hoping to make?
Why did this matter enough to pursue in the first place?
These questions may seem obvious, but they’re surprisingly easy to overlook when we’ve become invested in a particular approach.
Over time, our methods can become so familiar that we begin treating them as though they’re the mission itself.
A meeting becomes something we must preserve because we’ve always held it.
A program becomes something we must maintain because people have invested in it.
A process becomes something we defend because we helped create it.
And somewhere along the way, we stop asking whether those activities are still accomplishing what matters.
When COVID disrupted the Dream Accelerator, I initially thought the program itself was in jeopardy.
But the real purpose wasn’t in jeopardy.
Only the method.
That distinction created possibilities I couldn’t see while I was focused on preserving the original structure.
Here’s a question worth asking:
“If this particular method disappeared tomorrow, what purpose would we still be committed to accomplishing?”
Your answer may reveal that you have more options than you realized.
Sometimes we describe a plan as unsuccessful when the real problem is more specific.
Perhaps the strategy is sound, but the implementation is inconsistent.
Perhaps the goals are appropriate, but the timeline is unrealistic.
Perhaps the people involved need additional support.
Perhaps the environment has changed in ways we didn’t anticipate.
Or perhaps the plan is producing some positive results while failing to accomplish something essential.
That’s what was happening with my Dream Accelerator.
The immersive experience had value.
But the ongoing coaching wasn’t producing the engagement I hoped for.
The entire program wasn’t necessarily broken.
There was a particular weakness in the way it was structured.
And until I understood that distinction, I was in danger of treating the whole thing as a failure.
Before deciding what to change, ask:
What specifically isn’t working?
What evidence do we have?
What is working that we should preserve?
What assumptions are we making about the cause of the problem?
The more clearly we can identify the actual issue, the less likely we are to make unnecessary changes.
Sometimes the answer isn’t to abandon the strategy.
It’s to address the part of the strategy that’s preventing it from accomplishing its purpose.
This question requires a different kind of honesty.
Because sometimes our attachment to a plan has less to do with its effectiveness and more to do with what we’ve invested in it.
Time.
Money.
Energy.
Reputation.
Personal pride.
We may have championed the idea.
We may have convinced others to support it.
We may have defended it when people expressed concerns.
And now changing direction feels uncomfortable.
Perhaps even embarrassing.
I understand that.
No leader enjoys acknowledging that something they’ve worked hard to create needs to change.
But there’s an important distinction between protecting the purpose and protecting our investment in the plan.
One is an expression of faithfulness.
The other can quietly become a form of self-protection.
Here’s a question I find particularly helpful:
“If we were starting today, knowing what we now know, would we design this the same way?”
I love that question because it invites honest reflection without dismissing the work that’s already been done.
Maybe the answer is yes.
Maybe the original plan is still the best approach.
But perhaps we’ve learned something that should influence how we move forward.
And if that’s true, why wouldn’t we want to incorporate what we’ve learned?
Changing your approach doesn’t necessarily mean you were wrong to choose it in the first place.
It may simply mean you’re wiser now than you were when you began.
This is where curiosity becomes especially important.
When a plan stops working, our attention naturally turns toward what we’ve lost.
The resources we no longer have.
The opportunities that have disappeared.
The limitations we’re facing.
And those losses may be very real.
But sometimes our focus on what is no longer possible keeps us from noticing what has become possible.
That’s what happened with the Dream Accelerator.
When we couldn’t meet in person, I initially saw only the loss of the immersive experience I’d created.
But online technology opened possibilities I hadn’t fully considered.
We could spread the conversations over time.
We could provide more consistent support.
Participants could develop relationships through ongoing interaction rather than a concentrated event.
And the experience could become something different from what I’d originally imagined.
Not every disruption creates a better opportunity.
Sometimes the alternatives genuinely are less desirable.
But curiosity gives us the freedom to explore rather than assume.
Ask yourself:
What resources or opportunities are available now that weren’t available when we created the original plan?
What have we learned about the people we’re serving?
What possibilities have we dismissed because they don’t fit our original expectations?
What would we try if we weren’t committed to preserving the current approach?
Sometimes the most helpful question isn’t, “How do we get back to where we were?”
It’s:
“What might be possible now that we couldn’t see before?”
Eventually, reflection needs to lead somewhere.
And this is where I find the idea of the next faithful step so helpful.
Because it doesn’t require us to solve every problem or anticipate every outcome.
It asks us to discern what faithfulness looks like now.
Sometimes the next faithful step is to persevere.
The purpose is clear. The strategy is sound. The obstacles are real, but they’re not evidence that the approach needs to change.
In that case, perseverance may be exactly what’s required.
Sometimes the next faithful step is to pivot.
The purpose still matters, but the method needs to change.
Perhaps a different structure, timeline, process, or approach would serve the mission more effectively.
And sometimes the next faithful step is to let something go.
That’s often the hardest possibility.
Because letting go can feel like failure.
But not every initiative needs to continue indefinitely.
Sometimes the purpose has been accomplished.
Sometimes the circumstances have changed so significantly that continuing would be unwise.
And sometimes we discover that what once mattered no longer deserves the resources we’re giving it.
The important thing is to make that decision thoughtfully rather than reactively.
Perseverance, pivoting, and letting go can all be expressions of faithful leadership.
The question is which one best serves what matters now.
The Difference Between Perseverance and Stubbornness
I’ve been reflecting on this distinction.
Perseverance is a quality we rightly admire in leaders.
We want people who remain committed through difficulty.
People who don’t abandon responsibilities simply because things become challenging.
People who are willing to work through obstacles rather than give up.
But perseverance can quietly become stubbornness.
And the difference isn’t always easy to recognize.
Both can look like determination.
Both can require sacrifice.
Both can involve considerable effort.
So how do we distinguish them?
Here’s a line I’ve been carrying with me:
Perseverance is staying committed to what matters. Stubbornness is insisting it must happen the way we originally imagined.
Perseverance remains curious.
Stubbornness becomes defensive.
Perseverance is willing to learn.
Stubbornness feels threatened by new information.
Perseverance asks what faithfulness requires now.
Stubbornness assumes faithfulness means continuing exactly as before.
And perhaps one of the greatest challenges of leadership is recognizing when our determination has crossed that line.
When the Route Changes but the Mission Remains
There’s a fascinating moment in Acts 16.
Paul and his companions are traveling to share the Gospel.
But the journey doesn’t unfold as they apparently expected.
They are prevented from entering certain regions, and eventually Paul receives a vision calling them toward Macedonia.
The route changes.
The mission remains.
Now, I want to be careful here.
Not every obstacle is a sign that God is redirecting us.
Sometimes an obstacle is simply an obstacle.
And we shouldn’t assume that every alternative is better than the original plan.
But Paul’s experience reminds me that faithfulness isn’t necessarily tied to a particular route.
Sometimes the path changes while the calling remains.
And that requires discernment.
Listening.
Humility.
Willingness to reconsider.
Perhaps even the courage to release something we were convinced was essential.
A Better Question Than “How Do We Save the Plan?”
When I look back on the Dream Accelerator, I’m grateful that COVID forced me to reconsider the way we’d designed the experience.
I wouldn’t have chosen that disruption.
And I certainly didn’t welcome it at the time.
But the redesign helped us accomplish our purpose more effectively.
People received more meaningful support.
They had deeper conversations.
They built relationships that continue to this day.
And I learned something I might never have discovered if the original plan had continued uninterrupted.
The goal isn’t to save the plan. It’s to stay faithful to the purpose.
That’s a distinction worth remembering.
Especially when circumstances change.
Especially when we’re disappointed.
Especially when we’ve invested so much in an approach that no longer seems to be working.
You don’t have to abandon what matters.
But you may need to reconsider how you’re pursuing it.
And sometimes the most courageous thing a leader can say is:
“We still believe in what we’re trying to accomplish. But we’ve learned something. And we’re going to find a better way.”
A Moment for Reflection
Think about a plan, process, or initiative in your leadership that isn’t working quite the way you hoped.
Before deciding what to do next, consider these five questions:
Perhaps you’ll discover that perseverance is needed.
Perhaps it’s time to pivot.
Or perhaps you’ll recognize that something needs to be released.
Whatever the answer, remember:
You can remain faithful to the destination while being flexible about the route.
And sometimes the detour reveals possibilities you never could have imagined.
Find Clarity When the Way Forward Isn’t Obvious
When a plan stops working, it’s easy to become so immersed in the problem that we lose perspective.
Sometimes what we need most isn’t another strategy.
It’s a safe place to think out loud, examine our assumptions, and reconnect with what matters.
That’s the heart of my work through The Executive Counsel.
I walk alongside leaders as they navigate complex decisions, changing circumstances, and the weight of responsibility.
If you’re facing a decision about what to preserve, what to change, or what to release, I’d welcome a conversation.
Because leadership carries weight.
But you don’t have to carry it alone.
When the plan stops working, you don’t have to figure out the next step alone.
Sometimes leadership requires perseverance. Sometimes it requires a different approach. And sometimes the most courageous decision is to let something go.
Knowing the difference isn’t always easy, especially when you’ve invested so much in the original plan.
Through The Executive Counsel, I provide leaders with a confidential place to think out loud, examine assumptions, navigate difficult decisions, and discover their next faithful step.
If you’re facing a decision about what to preserve, what to change, or what to release, I’d welcome a conversation.
Let’s find clarity together.
Know weight. No isolation.
Jeff Meyer
Executive Coach | Organizational Clarity Consultant
