The bed where missionary Murray Brown lay was on the fifth floor of a hospital in Kumasi, Ghana. A pressure cooker had exploded, leaving severe burns on Murray’s hands, abdomen and legs. On his right hand the wounds were so deep that the muscles and ligaments were exposed.

“For burns as deep as these,” his doctor advised, “you will need skin grafts.”

Very early one morning as Murray lay awake, he saw a procession of African army ants creep across the floor of his room. In horror he watched them come toward his bed. Up they crawled until they reached his body and made their way under the bandages to chew at his burned flesh.

“Help!” Murray cried. But at that early hour there was no nurse on the hospital floor to hear him.

“Isn’t there anyone to help me?” he called. But no one answered.

Three times he repeated his anguished cry. But his pleas went unheard.

In Scottsbluff, Nebraska, it was the middle of the night. A friend of Murray Brown’s lay in bed, sound asleep. Suddenly he was awakened by a cry of distress. Thinking it might be one of his children, he got up and went to look at them. But they were all sleeping soundly.

After returning to his bed, he again heard a cry for help. Once more he went to look at the children, but they were still asleep.

This time when he returned to bed, he distinctly heard these words: “Help! Isn’t there anyone to help me?”

The man awakened his wife. “I’ve just heard Murray Brown’s voice,” he said. “He is calling for help.”

The man and his wife prayed for their friend. They had no idea what his need might be, but they wrestled in prayer until they were assured victory had come.

No one came to the missionary’s aid that morning in the hospital in Kumasi. But suddenly, to Murray’s amazement, the ants turned away from him and left his bed. They crawled across the hospital floor and disappeared, just as though someone had called them.

Later, when the doctor removed the bandages, he found new flesh forming over the wounds. Even over the exposed tendons on his right hand, healthy pink flesh had appeared.

Murray’s healing was so complete that there was no need to graft skin. Eventually, only a tiny scar remained on one thigh to remind him of his dreadful experience.

Many months later Murray learned how his friend in Scottsbluff had heard his voice from the other side of the world. At last he understood why the ants had turned and crawled away.

Murray Brown and his wife, Marjorie, were missionaries to Africa from 1939 to 1980.