Canon Bewes once told me about the time he invited Malcolm Muggeridge to speak at his church in England. All the local atheists showed up, relishing the unique opportunity. After the service there was a coffee, and Mr. Muggeridge answered questions. The general run of them went something like, “Why have you let us down?”
When Cannon Bewes sensed time was up, he called for only one more question. Having dealt with that, Mr. Muggeridge noticed a boy in a wheelchair trying to something. He stopped. “There is someone who wants to ask me a question. I will wait and answer it,” he said.
Again the boy struggled to get the words out, but nothing came.
“Take your time,” said Mr. Muggeridge reassuringly. “I want to hear what you have to ask and I’ll not leave till I hear it.”
Then, as the boy’s struggle continued to produce only agonized contortions, Mr. Muggeridge stepped down from the platform, walked to where the boy sat, put an arm about his shoulder, and said, “Just take it easy, son. It’s alright. What is it you want to ask me? I want to hear, and I will just wait.”
Finally, the boy blurted, “You say there is a God who loves us.”
Mr. Muggeridge agreed.
“Then—why me?”
Silence filled the room. The boy was silent. The audience was silent. Mr. Muggeridge was silent. Finally, he asked, “If you were fit, would you have come to hear me tonight?”
The boy shook his head.
Again Malcolm Muggeridge was silent. Then, “God has asked a hard thing of you,” he said. “But remember, he asked something even harder of Jesus Christ. He died for you. Maybe this was his way of making sure you’d hear of his love and come to put your faith in him.”
“Could be,” said the boy.
