The further education and training (FET) head office in the upper reaches of Prince Alfred Street, Pietermaritzburg, tends to get lost in late summer among towering jacaranda trees and pink and purple tibouchinas. But if you ever battle to find the college, just stop and listen for the laughter of its rector, Sipho Khuzwayo. His voice booms down the open-sided corridors of this rambling campus—even in the middle of a subtropical thunderstorm, as I discovered during a visit a few weeks ago.

The only time Khuzwayo could see me was after hours, when there were very few people left to guide me to his office. But the voice did it. I followed it to a spacious room where we were soon sharing tea and buns—and looking for a bucket to catch a leak that threatened to soak the carpet.

"Quite a storm," he said, as I helped him drag furniture out of harm's way.

"A bit like your life, perhaps?" I asked cautiously.

"In many ways, yes. But at the heart of my storm was that 'still small voice' that kept calling and calling [see I Kings 19:12]. It called through the apartheid years, through many career changes, through the death of my elder son, Mncedisi, in a car accident, till I reached the place where we're talking this afternoon—which is why the thunder and lighting out there don't disturb me quite so much."

Khuzwayo switched off his cell phone and settled back in his burgundy leather chair. Behind the desk are shelves where reference books intermingle with staff photographs. On one wall there are original oil paintings of elephants, lions, and an eagle.

Khuzwayo told me he was born and raised in a township without electricity or running water near Howick, which is about 16 miles from Pietermaritzburg. Police raids often broke the silence of the night. Despite the strictures placed on black children at the time, he completed high school, got college degrees in history and teaching, and later a master's in African Studies from Boston University in the United States. He returned to South Africa to jobs as a high-school principal and then an inspector of schools. Soon he left teaching to spend seven years as an area manager with an insurance company.

But he missed the classroom and the deeper rewards of steering young people toward happier, more spiritually oriented lives. He missed his son Mincedisi, and his health deteriorated.

It was at this point that Khuzwayo realized how far he had drifted from God. He said he felt a bit like the people addressed by the prophet Elijah in the Bible, whom Elijah challenged to choose between the one God and the god called Baal for supremacy: "How long halt ye between two opinions? If the Lord be God, follow him" (I Kings 18:21).

"Up to that point in my life it had seemed such an easy decision to make. I believed in God's power—even though I wasn't trusting Him. I knew where I really wanted to be. Yet in the winds, earthquakes, and fires I was going through, I was missing that 'still small voice' of reassurance from God.

"Switching Bible stories," he continued, "there were many times when I felt like a full-grown prodigal son who needed a complete change of heart before he could turn and find his way home [see Luke 15:11-32]. Only in my case, it was the father—me!—making his way back to the stability of the son, Mncedisi, who had shown a stronger, closer connection with God than anyone else in our family. At times he had been like a mentor to me and to my wife, Nonhlanhla—also a schoolteacher."

Then Khuzwayo took out a creased, much-used copy of the Sentinel.

"This magazine meant a lot to Mncedisi," he said, "and I believe that if he had been with us when I was sorting out my life, he would probably have been holding it out to me and saying, 'This is where you'll find the answers you need.'

"I knew he was right, and this article in the June 15, 1998, issue, asking, 'Who's in control?', got me right back on track. Here are some of the truths that came alive for me that day:

• Often, it's when we try to take command of things through our own efforts alone, without turning to God, that things get out of hand.

• Pausing mentally, even for just a moment, to acknowledge God's control of everyone, puts things into proper perspective.

• God is in control. Understanding this enables each of us to walk 'straight through the whole crowd' [see Luke 4:16-30, J. B. Phillips] of life's pressures that push us to believe that something other than God has authority."

When Khuzwayo heard that the provincial department of education was looking for someone to head the five FET college campuses in Pietermaritzburg, his heart leapt. Unemployment, standing at about 35 percent, had long been a topic of great concern to South Africans of all races. For years, Khuzwayo had felt a strong urge as an educator to do something to improve the situation—to educate and train people not just to handle available jobs with greater skill and efficiency, but to create their own job opportunities and invite others to join them in their entrepreneurial ventures. It dawned on him that the FET colleges were doing just that—they were committed to providing students of all ages with "transferable life skills" that would become "vital links in the economic community" of the region.

What sounded like a perfect fit for Khuzwayo soon became a reality. He was encouraged to apply for the position of rector, and got the job.

"I've been here just over a year now," he said, "and I believe this job is exactly what I've been called to do. With God's help, miracles have happened here. I couldn't be happier. On my first anniversary, I tried to make an honest assessment of my performance so far by asking myself some hard questions:

• What should you keep doing that adds value to your college?

• What should you stop doing that impedes progress?

• Is there any area in which you've been satisfied with mediocrity?

• Are the faculty and students achieving world-class performances and becoming global players? And, if not, why not?

• In which areas should we all be breaking fresh ground?

• Are the teachings of the Bible center-stage in your management of this beautiful campus?

• Are you committing everything you do here to the power of God?"

As the thunder rolled just one more time, I asked Khuzwayo how he'd rated himself on that test.

"Eight out of ten," he said with another of those throaty laughs. "And I promise I'll be doing even better by your next visit."