The Flying Scotsman

[Dec. 2004, Composition] 

Eric Liddell pounded around the last curve of the Olympic track, his knees pumping high, arms flailing wildly, and chest drawn back. As the finish line came in sight, he threw back his head toward the sky and gave a final burst of speed, breaking the tape five meters ahead of the second place runner as the stadium erupted into wild cheering. The scene is a familiar one to those who have seen the climax of the 1981 academy award-winning movie, Chariots of Fire. However, the life of Eric Liddell is a story of adventure and dedication in which his stunning Olympic victory is only a part.

Only months before the race, Liddell had shocked the world. He gave up a chance for the highest pinnacle of athletic achievement for the sake of personal conviction. He had trained months to run the 100-meter dash in the 1924 Parisian Olympics, and many experts had predicted for him a sure gold medal in that even. Then had come the news: insignificant to most, but towering like a wall of stone between Eric Liddell and his dreams. The heats for the 100-meter race were to be held on a Sunday, and Liddell by conviction was a dedicated Sabbatarian. He did not feel clear in his conscious to run on the Sabbath. “I’m not running,” he announced sadly but firmly. When the news spread, angry and disappointed fellow-countrymen blasted him for a lack of national pride, even betrayal of his country. They said he ought to lay aside his personal beliefs for the honor of Scotland, but his stand would not be shaken (Swift 91, 92). Early in life, Liddell had become a Christian through the example of his parents, missionaries serving in Northern China (Nosotro). As important as running was to Liddell, his faith came first. When the starting gun sounded for the event most experts had expected him to win, Liddell was standing in the pulpit of the Church of Scotland across town delivering a Sunday morning sermon (Benge 53).

Liddell was still to run in the Olympics, but no one expected him to win the races in which he was now entered. Liddell had negotiated a switch to the 220 and 400-meter races, despite the fact that he had not had extensive training or experience in those distances. The British team was pleasantly surprised when he took the bronze medal for third place in the 220-meter race. In the 400-meter race, the experts barely considered him in their predictions of the outcome. He was competing against two other record holders for the quarter-mile race, and Liddell was a sprinter, not a distance runner. In addition, he was also a very unorthodox sprinter. Critics used words like ‘awful’ and ‘appalling’ to describe his running form: torso leaned back, legs pumping high, arms flailing like a drowning swimmer, and head tilted back to face the heavens. He looked more like a hopelessly uncoordinated dancer than a runner (Swift 65).

When the race began and Liddell shot ahead of the other competitors, it was obvious that he was sprinting at top speed. He seemed to be pacing himself for a 100 meter dash instead of the quarter mile race. Excitement surged as Liddell not only kept up the impossible pace, but increased it to stay ahead of his competitors (Swift 101). As he reached the final stretch, the radio announcer captured the feelings of the entire stadium, “They’ve cleared the last curve. Liddell is still leading! He’s increasing his lead! Increasing and increasing! Oh, what a race!” The stadium went insane when the announcer proclaimed that Liddell’s time of 47.6 seconds had set a new world record for the quarter mile race, a record that had already been broken twice before in the last two days (McCasland 96).

History had been made that day, and Liddell was an instant national hero in England and Scotland. It was the first time a Scotsman had won an Olympic race, and they accordingly showered him with honors and accolades. Masses of cheering people greeted him at railway stations and important people gave celebrations dinners and fetes in his honor. At his graduation from Edinburgh University a few weeks later, the principle departed from his customary words in order to say, “Mr. Liddell, you have shown that none can pass you but your examiners,” and crowned him with a laurel wreath. Liddell’s cheering schoolmates hoisted him to their shoulders and carried him to the High Kirk of St. Giles down the street (Swift 105-109).

Glory and achievement were undeniably pleasant, but an aspect of his life that had begun a year before the Olympics held a deeper call upon his life. It had begun with a request from a fellow student. At that time, Liddell was already renowned as a phenomenal runner for Edinburgh University. D. P. Thomson, an ardent member of the Student Led Evangelistic Campaign at Edinburgh, had asked Liddell to give a testimonial speech about his faith in Christ before a small group of men. Although a shy man who considered public speaking among the last of his gifts, Liddell had felt that he could not ignore the call. His quiet testimony before a small audience of eighty people had led to regular speaking engagements through the Student Led Evangelical Campaign (McCasland 67-70). Now, while in the midst of the public spotlight for his athletic triumphs, Liddell surprised the world with yet another announcement. He would follow the example of his parents, and dedicate his life to mission work in China.

He returned to the town where he had been born to teach science at the Anglo-Chinese College (Michell 12). After a few years he married Florence Mackenzie Liddell, and the couple settled permanently in China (Michell 13). Soon, however, he felt led to leave the college and minister in the rural villages of China where living standards were minimal and the people had desperate needs. He traveled over the rough rural countryside by bicycle to teach and preach in a wide number of villages (Michell 14).

 Though he had left athletics for the ministry, he still led a life of energy and competed when given the chance. In 1928, he received an invitation to run in a race sponsored by the nation of Japan in competition against French and Japanese Olympic athletes. It was scheduled to start just a half an hour before the time his boat was to sail, so he arranged for a taxi to be waiting at the finish post with the engine running. He won the 200 and 400-meter races easily, and was just about to step into the taxi when a band began to play God Save the King in his honor. Patriot that he was, Liddell stood to respectful attention without moving. Minutes ticked by and still the band kept playing. At last, they reached the final bars—only to immediately strike up the strains of Marseillaise in honor of French runner who had taken the silver medal. He once again stood dutifully at attention, and when he was at last free to leave, he literally leaped into his waiting taxi. Reaching the dock, he saw the boat just gliding away into the harbor. He quickly threw his bags onto the deck, got up speed, and made a flying leap over the water to land with a thud on the deck of the boat, several feet away (Michell 13). It is no wonder that they dubbed him “The Flying Scotsman” (Benge 99)!

During his ministry in China, Liddell faced not only excitement, but also life-threatening peril. The devastation of World War II was rapidly approaching in the threat of a Japanese invasion of China. By the time Liddell relocated his ministry to the rural areas of China, that fear had become a reality. Much of China was already under Japanese occupation. Liddell did not let the dangerous undercurrents of war and politics deter him from doing what he felt morally called to do. While violence between the Chinese and their Japanese conquerors was escalating, Liddell happened to hear of a man on the Japanese enemy list who lay mortally wounded and left to die in an abandoned temple. Others would not act for fear of reprisal by the Japanese forces, but Liddell enlisted the help of a Chinese worker and went to the rescue. Bringing the man back to safety through enemy territory in the dead of the night, they heard groans coming from an old shack. Inside they discovered a man who had been slashed with a sword from the back of his neck to his mouth by a Japanese execution squad and left for dead. Liddell and his helper brought both men to safety at the risk of their own lives, and although the first man died, the second recovered and eventually became a Christian (Michell 14-15).

In the weeks approaching the day that America would forever remember as Pearl Harbor Day, the mission board deemed China too perilous for Westerners and recommended their workers to evacuate. Liddell sent his wife and daughters to safety in Canada, planning to follow in a year (McCasland 225). He never left China. The Japanese forces interred him with many other westerners in a concentration camp in late March of 1943. The camp was a former mission school with all the plumbing and heat had been ripped out, and was crowded and less than comfortable (McCasland 256).

In the camp, Liddell continued as a teacher, in charge of overseeing the education of a barracks of children separated from their parents. They affectionately called him “Uncle Eric” and he taught science courses with the rude materials available. He had to write their chemistry textbook from memory (Michell 15-16). Looking back on those days, one of the boys under Liddell’s charge remarked that, “Some of these students made notable achievements in science after the war, and looked back to the sound foundations which Liddell had given them” (Cliff). Liddell also gave sermon messages for the camp, and organized sporting events for the children. Despite his stand for the observance of the Sabbath in the 1932 Olympics, some of the events he organized in the camp took place on Sundays. It is not know whether his convictions had changed over the years, or if he considered the well-being of the children under his care more important that his personal convictions (Michell 17). When he contracted typhoid fever with a brain tumor and died shortly before the end of the war and release of the prisoners, the entire camp mourned, as did Scotland when the news reached Europe (Michell 24).

Many years have passed since that day, but the memory of Eric Liddell has not faded. Edinburgh University erected a monument to his memory at the location of the prison camp where he spent his last years (Lackman). In the city of Edinburgh, a Christian community service center named for him serves its community in helping the elderly, poor, and mentally disturbed (Eric Liddell Centre). Liddell’s choices after the 1924 Olympics reveal his character no less than the bold stand for conviction he made, which is now immortalized in our memories. He was not afraid to do what he thought right under pressure and peril.

Works Cited

Benge, Janet and Geoff. Eric Liddell: Something Greater than Gold. Seattle: YWAM Publishing, 1999.

Cliff, Norman. “Memories of Eric Liddell.” Holy Trinity. 9 Dec. 2004 < http://www.holytrinitynewrochelle.org/yourti19163.html >

“Eric Liddell Centre.” The Gazetteer for Scotland. 2004. 9 Dec. 2004  <http://www.geo.ed.ac.uk/scotgaz/features/featurefirst6575.html>

Lackman, Robert. “China’s Forgotten Scottish Olympic Hero.” Shanghai Star. 5 Aug. 2004. 9 Dec. 2004. < http://app1.chinadaily.com.cn/star/2004/0805/vo2-2.html >

McCasland, David. Eric Liddell: Pure Gold. Grand Rapids, MI: Discovery House Publishers, 2001.

Michell, David. The Spirit of Eric Liddell. Toronto: OMF Books, 1992.

Nosotro, Rit. “Eric Liddell: Missionary to China Who Ran an Olympic Life of Faith” Hyperhistory.net. 20 Aug. 2004. 9 Dec. 2004. < http://www.hyperhistory.net/apwh/bios/b3liddell10lu.htm >

Swift, Catherine M. Eric Liddell. Minneapolis, Minnesota: Bethany House Publishers, 1990.