(RNS) I love working with forward-thinking church leaders. I admire the creative ways they are trying to claim a lively future for their congregations.

I find them eager to serve, sensitive to the needs of people around them, optimistic about the future — and utterly exhausted from carrying the burden of inherited institution.

I mean physically worn-out, mentally weary and emotionally depleted. On their backs are aged and costly facilities, denominational politics, local practices that stopped working decades ago, and entrenched opposition to change and even minimal accountability.

“What more can I do?” asked one leader. He sees abundant needs all around him, and he knows what his congregation could do to respond. But how?

Work smarter? Sure. But with what funds to buy technology or staff? Money they need to work efficiently is spent in advance on facilities.

Stop doing what isn’t working? Sure. But who will protect them from insiders who benefit from those long-faded ministries?

Respond to today’s spiritual yearnings? Yes, but what about members who keep hoping that yesterday’s answers will work again?

Respond to new constituencies? Absolutely. But who will handle the jealous few who worry their needs won’t get met?

From recent conversations with four dozen church leaders, this is what exhaustion looks like:

New strategies for a changing world get lost in arguments over change. Fresh energy gets depleted in sustaining old initiatives.

Leaders dream of more. It is truly inspiring to hear their thinking about new neighbors in a changing area, teenagers facing unprecedented pressures, ethical issues that should be the church’s province, building bridges to outcasts, and nuts-and-bolts activities like calling on the elderly. They aren’t envisioning off-the-wall ministries, but basic, real-world responses to actual people.

Yet their dreams get stymied almost immediately by the huge task of filling the church on Sunday and raising funds to underwrite that one hour of worship. Long-established members resist any change to the institution as they remember it. Some threaten to withhold funds if new initiatives detract from Sunday morning.

Leaders are also weary from what one calls the “80-20 rule,” the long-tolerated practice of asking 20 percent of the people to do 80 percent of the work and giving. Responding to actual needs would require time, consistency and funds that most incumbent church members refuse to give.

Even so, the lay and clergy leaders I am meeting remain optimistic. They see a fragmented and needy world and are energized by it. But I can’t disregard their fatigue.

They seem worn-out from religious systems designed for little more than Sunday mornings. They feel defeated in advance by inherited practices that have become, by any reasonable measure, self-destructive.

They dream of starting a week by asking, “What can I do this week to serve the people who God has given me?” Instead, they feel pressured into asking, “How can I convince enough people to attend worship next Sunday to give an appearance of liveliness?”

Put your inheritance into perspective, I encourage them. Think outside the building. Expect more from the 80 percent. Stand up to change resisters. And trust God to use your creativity, even when it runs counter to yesterday’s solutions.

You can’t build a faith community by driving leaders into exhaustion just to avoid making difficult decisions about change.

(Tom Ehrich is a writer, church consultant and Episcopal priest based in New York. He is the author of “Just Wondering, Jesus,” and the founder of the Church Wellness Project, http://www.churchwellness.com. His Web site is http://www.morningwalkmedia.com.)