Charles Mithowa laid his head on the the table in front of me and began to weep. It was a warm African night in the city of Blantyre, Malawi, and we were sitting together in a small restaurant. He didn't receive our news well. Charles had been anxiously awaiting our arrival since early morning, and now it was past 9 p.m. After months of anticipating our visit to his Bible school for a day of teaching, we were all deeply disappointed by the likelihood that we wouldn't even get to meet his students. We were more than twelve hours behind schedule because the rickety truck we were traveling in broke down, and we were now stranded in Blantyre. Not knowing what to do next, we listened across the table as Charles, now composed, told us his story.