But, for that time at least, I am glad that I am shy. Because I learned a lot from Wilfred in those months. He didn’t know that I knew this, and he never told me himself – but I learned through others on the campus that Wilfred had left a prominent political opportunity in his country to pursue ministry full-time. He had left a “sure-thing” to go clean toilets for four years and study in near solitude. And through his heart – either it be sad or happy, I learned the art of diligence. Humility. Strength in obscurity. I learned that contentment has far less to do with our circumstances than with each other. I learned something that many in the African culture know inherently. Something that many of us in America never will. . . that people are more important than programs and pretense.
Yet not long after my night class and meetings with Wilfred ended, the sweet sound through the campus air disappeared. Wilfred had gone out in the evening to try and learn to drive while the Dallas streets were emptier. It’s just that a drunk driver was also trying to drive nearby. And I don’t think that he tried all that well because he quickly veered over the median, smashing into Wilfred’s car and killing him instantly. Wilfred was only six months shy from graduating with his master’s degree from both DTS & Wycliffe Bible Translation Institute and returning to Ghana to marry his fiancée and begin ministry. He had often spoken of his dream of using his linguistic and theological training to translate the Bible into 7 tribal languages in his country near his home village.
Yet that dream died with Wilfred on the cold streets of Dallas. And the air above 7 tribes in Ghana remains eerily quiet now.
