05/25/2026
So disgraceful … it warrants a repost …
Worth a repeat …
The Chilling Effect: When Service Becomes a Liability
by Mike Broemmel
There’s a storm gathering over the nonprofit sector—quiet, insidious, and potentially devastating. It’s not the familiar tempest of declining donations or grant fatigue. It’s something far more personal. Increasingly, litigants are targeting individual members of nonprofit boards of directors instead of the organizations themselves.
This gross misconduct is epitomized by a sputtering organization in Denver, Colorado, operating under the pretense of being a community-centered church. First Baptist Church recently sued a volunteer board member of a nonprofit over a rental dispute—a claim widely regarded as meritless—putting a private citizen personally on the hook for decisions made in good faith. This is not accountability. It is intimidation. And it is a warning shot to every volunteer who has ever considered stepping up to serve their community.
At first glance, this might seem like a technicality, a legal quirk. It isn’t. It’s a direct threat to the very spirit of community service. When people who serve without pay—motivated by civic duty, not profit—find themselves personally named in lawsuits for actions taken in good faith, the damage radiates far beyond the courtroom.
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When Law Becomes a Weapon
A nonprofit is a separate legal entity. That separation is not a loophole; it’s a safeguard. It exists so that people can make difficult decisions in the public interest without risking their homes, savings, or reputations. Yet more and more, aggrieved parties—whether driven by vengeance, misunderstanding, or opportunism—are piercing that boundary, hauling volunteer board members into court as stand-ins for the organization itself.
The result is a distortion of accountability. Laws designed to protect transparency and integrity are being twisted into tools of intimidation. What should be a mechanism of justice becomes a cudgel of fear.
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The Price of Fear
Imagine saying yes to a board position at your community theatre, food bank, or youth center—only to discover that one misinterpreted decision could bankrupt you. How many qualified, principled people will volunteer under those conditions?
The answer is as predictable as it is tragic: fewer and fewer. Those who once gave their expertise freely now think twice. They decline invitations to serve. They recuse themselves from the kind of difficult conversations that keep institutions ethical and alive.
In short, fear begins to govern where courage once did.
And when service becomes a liability, communities suffer. The arts dim. Shelters struggle. Programs that heal, educate, and inspire lose their compass because the people best equipped to guide them step away.
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Irony in the Courtroom
There is a bitter irony here. Nonprofits are born to serve—to fill gaps that markets and governments cannot. Yet their leaders now risk being punished for the very act of stewardship. Board service was never meant to be an act of self-preservation; it was meant to be an act of generosity.
The danger lies not only in the lawsuits themselves but in what they symbolize: the erosion of civic trust. When altruism meets litigation, society loses its most essential connective tissue—the belief that we owe something to one another.
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Drawing the Line
The law must speak clearly: board members acting in good faith, within the scope of their authority, are not fair targets for individual litigation. Period.
That means states must reaffirm statutory protections, insurers must educate boards on coverage limits, and courts must recognize that piercing the corporate veil in the nonprofit sector undermines public good.
But the solution isn’t only legal—it’s cultural. We must begin, again, to honor service. We must remind ourselves that volunteerism is not an indulgence but a cornerstone of democracy.
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The Final Act
As a playwright, I’m reminded that every good story turns on conflict and choice. We now face one of our own: do we allow fear and litigation to silence those who serve, or do we reaffirm the social contract that says public service deserves respect, not reprisal?
If we fail to act and take a stand against entities like First Baptist Church in Denver, the stage of civic life may soon grow empty—not because there are no stories left to tell, but because those who once dared to tell them have been driven into the wings by the threat of a summons.
