ANGELS OVER LAGOS

Jenny Stark from Rooi Els in the Cape, writes of an experience that happened to her son-in-law, Hermann, on March 15, 2002 It was early morning, still dark, but finally Hermann began to relax as the driver sped along the main road towards Lagos Airport, Nigeria. In a few hours he would be home, in time to celebrate his baby daughter's first birthday. In the back seat next to him sat his colleague Bill; in front the driver and an armed bodyguard. It had been a tough few days. The business deal, if they managed to clinch it, was big. But it meant some more trips from Johannesburg to Lagos. He remembered how this time, driving from the airport to the hotel, the car had driven over a body. Nobody seemed con-cerned enough to remove it. Life was shockingly cheap! He had spent 3 days imprisoned in his hotel – "safer that way" he had been told by the staff and the financiers who came to discuss business. Hermann sensed that here, his life wasn't worth more than the watch on his arm, or perhaps his shirt or his jeans. Anyway, it was nearly over - soon he'd be safely home. Meanwhile, back in Johannes-burg, his wife Candice had woken from a troubled sleep. She was so worried about Hermann! What if something were to happen to him? They had enjoyed one precious year of parenthood together. Their lives seemed perfect - yet she had a sense of dread that drew her out of her bed and onto her knees. She felt a strange conviction that Hermann would die and that she MUST pray for him. "Please God", she asked "take care of Hermann. Lord, I commit him into Your care - please bring him home safely to us," she prayed over and over... Back on the road to the airport, a gunshot shat-tered Hermann's thoughts and both he and Bill ducked. More shots, and then from his crouched position, he saw a man standing up through the open sun-roof of a car alongside, aiming an automatic rifle straight at him. Then he saw another man open a window and bring out another rifle. More firing! The noise was terrible. There was blood from the bodyguard's shoulder. Their car slowed suddenly and veered off the road into a tree - the tyres had been hit! Instinctively Hermann opened the door and started to run. But there was nowhere to hide - no more trees, no scrub, not even grass. He knew he was a moving target, so he fell to the ground and kept still, hoping the soft darkness of dawn would cover him. They surrounded the car. Bill's door was jammed against the tree. He had not got out in time. Without moving, Hermann watched Bill being roughed out of the car, one rifle against his head, another against his ribs. They shoved him to the back of the car and kept shouting for the keys. Hermann could hear the smash of rifle butts against Bill's bones - he felt sure they would shoot Bill and then come to find him. Hermann flattened himself against the ground and wondered briefly about his gravel- coloured shirt. Was it good camou-flage? It had lain in his cupboard for 2 years - a birthday present from his mother. He had never worn it. What had made him bring it along? What had made him wear it today? He watched Bill trying to fend off the blows as he repeated again and again that the driver and guard had run away with the car keys. And then more gunfire. Hermann shut his eyes tightly, the gravel pressed into his face. Slowly he lifted his head and looked at the car. Relief flooded through him as he saw that Bill was still standing - they had fired into the lock of the boot. Then headlights - the gunmen turned their attention to the road, firing 80 rounds indiscriminately into the approaching cars. But the traffic had scared them - they scrambled into their car and sped off. Hermann and Bill ran the remaining 500 metres to the airport. There they managed to get hold of the police who returned with them to their vehicle. There were 20 bullet holes in the car - bullets fired from close range. Five had passed through both back and front windows. One was lodged in the petrol tank; one had passed through Hermann's door and been deflected into the seat. Only the bodyguard had been hit in the shoulder. Oh, how we as a family praised God! How easy it was for us to rejoice and thank Him for answering Candice's prayers. And we still rejoice. Yet, as I prayed I began to realize that thanking God for His mercy and protection was not enough. In this time of gratitude and jubilation I should ask even more. I should ask that I come to trust God so completely that even when His will doesn't coincide with mine, I will still thank Him with all my heart. Lord, let my faith grow to the point where I can trust you completely, however you choose to answer my prayer. [Signs of the Times Sept./Oct. 2002]