Can You Hear The Angels Sing?

By Rev. Prof. Seth Ayettey

In October 2010, Professor and Pastor Seth Ayettey was assaulted in his home. Shot and left for dead, he and his family experienced a series of miracles that culminated in a choir of angels. Now you can read his memoir on experiencing the best and worst of mankind, and how he knows grace will save lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9780992118853

Book preview

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Chapter 1: The Presence of

God in the Storm

"Begone unbelief, my Saviour is near,

And for my relief will surely appear:

By prayer let me wrestle, and He wilt perform,

With Christ in the vessel, I smile at the storm."

John Newton, 1779

The golden tropical sunrise glowed over the mango trees in my garden on a pleasant October morning in Accra, Ghana. The West African sun beamed down in tranquil rays onto my courtyard garden, my family’s dogs, and their newborn pups. It was a bastion for devotional contemplation as I arrived early to the office at Korle-Bu Teaching Hospital, kneeling in my habitual prayer time. As I used my cherished Revised Standard Bible, my mind settled on Lou and Pat Hammond, friends from Cambridge, who gave me the Bible many years before. Lou passed into glory a few years back and Pat has settled in Cape Town, South Africa. The morning seemed to flow between the Lord and old friends, as my devotions moved organically to my work for the day. A calm, usual day laid before me. My wife Cecilia and youngest daughter Naakai went about their affairs, unaware that this was a lull before the hurricane.

As headwinds prepared to lash at my family, God hadn’t left us to be overwhelmed without aid. De Haan’s Our Daily Bread devotional was spirit-led and tailored to prepare my heart for the impending attack. As the breeze picked up I, like many others, had read the devotional unaware of its specific motivation.

Fear not, God said in Acts 27:24, "do not be afraid" for He would be with us. We have been through several troubles and persecutions before, but this would be uniquely special and lasting. God graciously and mercifully provided what we needed most: the assurance of His presence with us in the furnace of affliction.

The barks of our dogs wrested me from sleep. A violent shake sliced at the house’s main gate. The glow of my alarm clock shone 1:20AM, October 6, 2010. The cacophony of our dogs was broken only by the pounding of my terrified heart.

The gate clanged. My wife Cecilia woke with a start. I searched for her in the dark. We recognized that sound. Several years ago, a thief had scaled the same gate to try and get into our neighbour’s yard. Cecilia and I had woken up and shouted, Thief! Thief! He scaled our wall back to the street and ran. We were so thankful that we had saved our neighbour. Thankfully, that robber had turned coward. On October 6th, however, we were the targets, and we were alone.

Cecilia and I raced to the window. Our hearts pounded as we shouted, Thief! Thief!

Two men were at our front door.

Unlike the robber before, these men were far from frightened off. We kept screaming, hoping our neighbours would repay our previous kindness. No one came, not even the security officer in the house nearby. Little comfort to us was his call to the Police, which we remained ignorant of until well after the attack.

Three others joined the two at our door.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

We could hear the crackle of splinters breaking away from our heavy, girded door. Our dogs had silenced. Were they too terrified to help their masters, or had the robbers killed them?

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Our door clattered, broken open. Adrenaline fizzled into our veins. The robbers were breaking through.

The cacophony was deafening. We counted clumsily in our minds. There were five wooden doors between us and them. The noise, the insurmountable noise, struck our hearts as each of the doors clambered to the ground in shards. The fear fixed my feet to the floor with each paralyzing thunderclap. The noise was deafening and should have woken several of our neighbours in the silence of the autumn night.

But for the grace of God, the intensity of the noise and the fear could have given me a heart attack, stroke or nervous breakdown. My adrenaline level was high and my heart was racing faster by each sound from the splintering of the doors. Worse than the noise was the building fear driving my imagination to wild terror at what the insurgents were capable of. What would they do when finally no doors remained between them and us? I had grabbed my phone to call the Police. A Police team had passed by the house the previous day and greeted Cecilia.

They had driven by the house several times late at night and in the early morning patrolling. Little did we anticipate a robbery attempt, on account of the frequent Police patrols. The thieves were a step ahead. They had planned well and carefully to choose the date and time for their operation to avoid apprehension. Their surveillance must have been excellent.

I shook so badly as they approached, it was too difficult for me to locate the number of the police on the phone. My mind, eyes and fingers were not coordinating properly. I abandoned the attempt.

The robbers were moving fast towards us.

Naakai. Our seven year old daughter slept in her bedroom. My paralysis stopped as a rush of paternal bravery destroyed the stiffness in my feet. I dropped my phone. Nothing mattered. No thunderclaps, no amount of banging and clanging on the doors would stop me from bringing Naakai to our bedroom. I thought it would be safer to have Naakai with us than to leave her on her own to face the brutalities of armed robbers. Who knew what evil they would do to her if she was by herself and she panicked?

Thank God I succeeded in bringing our daughter to join us before the thieves finally got to our bedroom. She was awake when I got to her room and was about to rush to us. Like us, she was frightened and speechless. She knew we were being invaded by thieves.

I had time to lock three doors leading to our bedroom. Each of those doors were solid wood and had a dead-bolt lock. Secure as these locks were, I knew by what the robbers had done to enter the house that these doors wouldn’t last.

They destroyed them with speed.

Later, they would break two other locked doors to gain access to other rooms in the house after invading our bedroom, but would not take anything from those rooms.

Within five minutes of the first sign of their entry, the thieves were in our bedroom. Just before they entered to confront us, one of them addressed the rest of the gang in my native Ga language. I did not get what he was telling them. We were all so frightened we could not concentrate on anything, save to commit ourselves into God’s hands in silent prayer. However, I managed to speak to him in Ga to let him know we would give them whatever they asked and had in the house. I also offered to open the bedroom door for them so they would not break it. I thought I had made a reasonable gesture to let them know we would cooperate and therefore, they should not harm us. That statement did not help.

As I put my hand to the key to unlock the door, they broke the door open and the front man violently pushed me onto the bed. From the time they entered the bedroom and from their initial aggressive mood, I knew anything could happen to us, including being killed. It was a frightening realization that those few minutes with the thieves could be the last of my life on earth. I prayed silently for grace to go through this terrifying ordeal. I prayed that Cecilia and Naakai would not be molested or harmed in any way. There had been several reports of armed robbers raping their victims after robbing them. Some movies we had seen on television had portrayed such horrendous, senseless and evil acts to both women and children.

The Sunday before the attack had been World-Wide Communion Day. I had preached at Shiashie Faith Presbyterian Church of Ghana on Luke 17:1-10, where Christ said, When you have done everything you were told to do, should say, ’We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty. I have chosen this passage for my funeral. I had never preached on that passage before but had viewed it as the most appropriate message for servants of God to be reminded of when they had completed their assigned tasks. Knowing what God has enabled me to accomplish in life and that I faced the risk of claiming credit for His work, this passage meant much to me. The servant of God must always acknowledge Him and, at the same time, firmly resist the temptation to take the glory that belongs to God for fruit we bear in our ministry.

I had invited another minister to preach the sermon that Sunday. A day before, he had called to let me know he would not be able to honor the invitation. I had not taken time to look at the lectionary to find the passages chosen for that Sunday. When I noted that the Gospel reading was Luke 17, I was pleased. I would be preaching a sermon on the passage I selected for my funeral. I thoroughly enjoyed preparing the sermon and relished the opportunity to preach it. I was able to convey to the congregation and my family what I wished to be said about me at my funeral. I asked that no tribute should be read. Glory should be ascribed to God and never to man or woman for what is achieved in His Name. God’s gifts expressed in me must be acknowledged as from Him. Members of Shiashie Faith Presbyterian Church of Ghana who heard that sermon wondered if I knew the end of my life was close and if I was bidding them farewell.

When news of the shooting broke in the early hours of October 6th, they became even more convinced that I was sharing with them parting words. After surviving the ordeal, we understood that God did not intend to take me Home that morning, and that I was not leaving them. God was preparing the family and I to go through an experience close enough to death, yet we did not get the message until it happened.

The robbers were now with us in our bedroom. I had gathered courage and stood up from the bed to face the attackers. The leader was wild, shouting at me with his gun pointed at my face. He was wearing black trousers and red T-shirt. His face was covered across the middle with a white cloth. He also had a head-band that went over his forehead. Only his eyes were visible but I dared not look sternly at him.

The other robbers were also masked, save one. They wore jeans and sneakers with different color shirts. They were fidgety and appeared to be on edge, ready to respond to any situation. There was no smell of drugs such as cocaine on them, but their nervous and irrational disposition informed us that they could be on drugs. Except the leader, who was about 25 years old, the rest were quite young, not more than 18 years of age. Also, the tallest was the leader, being about my height of 6’. All of them were armed with their guns pointed at us as they stood watching the action between the leader and me. Some of them began to search out items in the room, but their attention remained focused on the leader and me.

Where is the money? The leader demanded. This question puzzled and worried me greatly because we had not received any large amount of money from anyone. As a family tradition, we never kept more money than we needed for food, household items, and offertory at Church. All major financial transactions were by cheque.

Had the gang made a mistake? Were they in the wrong house? Were they trailing someone and had mistaken his or her house for ours? If money was the prime reason for the break in, they would get little of it.

I could not answer his question. To let him know we had very little money to give would infuriate him and the others. To suggest to him they had come to the wrong house could equally provoke them to brutalize me. What should I say?

At this stage, when I should be panicking and shaking violently for fear of death, I was no longer afraid of them or for my life. There was an unusual calmness in my soul. I had become more composed. The panic that had filled me before they entered was gone. God had given me special strength to be still in my soul and spirit. I was ready to go through the ordeal. It was at this brief moment also that the passage I had read in the Book of Acts and the commentary in the Our Daily Bread devotional came alive.

With this divine intervention, I was able to respond to the question. I remembered I had a $100 note in my wallet. Being foreign currency, I thought it might excite them to have it. I also thought it would calm their aggression towards us.

Taking the $100 dollar bill from me did not help. The leader continued to question me as if he knew we had a large amount of money stashed away in the house. He shouted louder to bring the money. The situation had become more deeply-laden with trouble.

Just before leaving the house in the morning of October 5th, I had asked Cecilia to withdraw GHC 1000 for the house. Part of this money was to be used for a party for the children at the Church for my 65th birthday. When I returned from work that day, I was too tired to discuss anything with Cecilia. In the presence of the thieves, I could not ask her what she had done about the transaction. That would have confirmed to them that we had a large amount of money in the house. If she had not gone to the bank, then we would have nothing more than GHC 20 to give, plus money for offertory at Church. Their baser inclinations would deem that reason to kill.

Unsure if Cecilia had been to the bank, I moved towards where we kept money for the house. I prayed silently, committing my life to the Lord as I did this, knowing I would be dead in the next few seconds if I had little or nothing to give them.

To my surprise and relief, I found an envelope containing an amount that I reckoned would be close to the thousand Cedis we had decided to withdraw. Cecilia had been to the bank. We had what I thought the thieves would accept as significant amount of money to steal. Quietly in my heart I gave thanks to God, thinking I now had an amount of money to satisfy them. I also felt at this stage that our lives would be spared.

It is not enough, the Leader said in Ga. I was shocked. What had they expected? At this juncture, still unusually calm in spirit, I said we had given them all we had. I added that I am a pastor who had served in prisons in Ghana for several years. For some strange reason, the erratic and violent behavior of the leader changed. He calmed down considerably, stood by me, and began searching the wardrobe where our clothes were without asking further questions. Cecilia had, independently, also noticed this change in the mood and countenance of the leader. Why this change occurred, we did not know. I also noted that he was calm as he searched the wardrobe. This gave me some mental relief, believing that God had acted in a way to soften the heart of the leader. It was a month later, when a group of armed robbers believed to have been the same group that attacked us had been killed, that we had a clue about the reason for the change in behavior of the leader towards me. The leader was an ex-convict. He likely recognized me as someone he had seen ministering in a prison he had been in, but did not recognize me until I made the statement about the prison ministry.

After searching the wardrobe, the leader talked to me again in a softer tone, asking for my laptop. I said it was at the office (at the Medical School), and that we had a desktop computer in the study they could have. According to Cecilia, one of the gang left the room at that point, apparently to take a look at the computer.

From the time the robbers entered, Cecilia knelt by the bed and prayed continually and repetitively in Ga, Lord help us. She never lifted her head to look at or to plead with them. Her only intervention was when one of them retorted at my statement regarding the ministry in the prisons. That member of the gang thought I meant I was an agent for the security forces, and that I reported armed robbers to the police to prosecute them and have them imprisoned. Cecilia quickly responded and said he got me wrong, that I had rather spent my life preaching in the prisons and helping prisoners.

Without warning, one of the robbers fired his gun. A searing pain struck above my right knee. He shot me! I shouted AO! as I collapsed heavily on the floor. I knew by this wicked act that, if I survived the injury, I might not have the use of that limb again. The limb was lifeless.

The shooting was quite unexpected, as I had felt a growing rapport between the leader and I. He was no longer shouting. Rather he acted as if he wanted to protect me. As he stood by me, there was no indication at all that my life was in imminent danger before the gun was fired. If anyone would shoot me, it would be the leader. His gun was constantly pointed at me until he calmed down after I had made the statement about prison ministry. I was more relaxed on account of this change in behavior. My attention was still on the leader, and did not notice an action from the others to shoot me. Cecilia had seen one of the gang moving with his gun pointed at me. She saw a flash of light, then the loud sound of the gun, but thought he had fired a warning shot. She too was surprised to find me lying helpless and bleeding.

Despite the pain and panic, my clinical training enabled me to stay calm as I assessed the situation. There was calmness in my spirit from the blessing of the devotion the day before that had become real to me soon after the thieves had engaged us in the bedroom.

Blood was oozing above my right knee.

Naakai was standing behind Cecilia. In a shocked state, she continued to look intently at the thieves and observe all that happened. She surprised us by staying calm. Not a word came from her lips. In her natural state, she would have cried out loudly, spoken to them, and perhaps would also have asked a few questions. By keeping quiet, the robbers attention was kept away from her. They could have harmed her if they thought she was disturbing their raid. We were so proud of Naakai. Later she informed me that tears flowed from her eyes as she watched all that happened. She did not cry out aloud to attract attention to herself - such a brave and mature girl, playing an effective role to minimize harm to the family.

What troubled me about Naakai was that she stared at the robbers throughout the attack. They would not hesitate to kill, irrespective of age or sex. There had been instances in Ghana where armed robbers had killed whole families for various reasons, including staring. Not long after we had been attacked, an armed robber killed a victim when the victim recognized him and mentioned his name. The victim was shocked to know that a person he knew very well was part of the gang that had come to attack. Had he thought doing that would attract sympathy?

The robbers stood still and quiet for about a minute. A minute in the presence of armed robbers felt like an eternity. Time mattered to them. They must get out quickly and escape before the Police arrived. Why they did this, we not could tell. We did not know what was in their mind and what they were planning to do next. The man who shot me took the shell out of the shotgun and dropped it on the floor. Whether he was planning to reload and shoot again, I could not tell. We remained silent, and so did they.

The silence was broken by a sharp request from the leader to Cecilia for her wedding and engagement rings. The rings were a little tight on Cecilia’s finger, and she struggled to get them off. The robber was impatient with his gun pointed at Cecilia’s head, shouting to let him have the rings. At that point the rings were already off and he took them. I offered him my ring and he took it. I wondered why he did not ask for mine, and if he would have done so if I had not offered. To robbers, gold ornaments are precious commodities. Mine would have brought additional dollars, or Ghanaian Currency Cedis, depending on where they sold them. Maybe the leader did not ask because I offered it readily. Maybe he would not have asked out of sympathy after they had brutalized me.

I also wondered what his reaction was to the shooting, as we had earlier observed a clear change in his countenance towards us – and especially towards me. Was he surprised? Had they planned something worse and had changed their minds to shooting me in the limb? Had they planned for this person to shoot me? Why would they even shoot me as we offered no resistance? They had been to four other houses. Ours was the last, and where they got far more booty. Why then the shooting? Answers to these questions will never be found if the robbers were those killed by the Police a month later.

With the rings in his custody and me lying helpless on the floor close by the bed, we thought the robbery was over. The leader surprised us again with a shout for our cell phones. I pointed to where mine was sitting. Cecilia looked for hers and realized they had already taken it. There was another cell phone on the charger that they took, additional to one that was faulty and we had abandoned. By taking the phones away, they made sure we would have no means of reaching help and that I would lay there in agony and bleed to death. They knew at that time of the night Cecilia and Naakai would be afraid to walk the streets, knocking on doors to ask for help.

They left the bedroom, but the invasion was not over. They ransacked the other rooms, but did not find precious items to steal. Before they left, one of them returned to our bedroom to look at us. We were all in the state in which they left us. As they had taken all of our phones, we had not made any attempt to call. It was after the event that we learned from a Police officer that it was a strategy of robbers that one of them returned to the main rooms of action to be sure no member of the family was reaching out for help. If we had hidden a phone and tried to call for help, he would have killed us all. To our relief, as soon as this robber entered the bedroom to look at us, the leader ordered them out, shouting, It is a five-minute operation.

By the time he ordered them out of the house, they had been with us from 1:20AM to 1:35AM. If they had planned a five-minute operation, they had overstayed their mission. The leader’s order to leave was timely. I had been steadily bleeding for at least 5 minutes. My right thigh was swelling, an indication that I was bleeding internally. I was already beginning to feel thirsty, another sign that I had lost much blood already.

In that long 15-minute period, we clung to Christ, trusting Him only through the storm as our anchor, shield and defender. God flooded my heart with peace in the midst of severe pain beyond what words can describe. Fear was gone. There were no tears in my eyes, nor did I shout out of agony from the pain. God gave me very special strength to bear and endure the pain.

To date, I have still wondered why the thieves stood still for nearly a minute after shooting me. May