A longstanding tradition dating to the early church is to gather at the anniversary of the death of a martyr. Today we remember the witness of a remarkable man from the 20th century.
Seventy-five years ago today, Eric Liddell breathed his last, succumbing to a brain tumor while in Japanese custody at a prisoner of war camp in occupied China. “It’s complete surrender,” he is said to have uttered, referring to his Christian missionary work.
Liddel is best known to most people via Ian Charleson’s portrayal in the classic movie “Chariots of Fire”. This academy award winning drama covers an early part of his life when he had decided to run competitively, ultimately representing Britain in the Olympics. “I believe that God made me for a purpose. But He also made me fast, and when I run, I feel His pleasure” he tells his disapproving sister in the film. (His sister’s objection to Liddell’s running is one of several points of creative license—she actually supported his athletic career).
After years of training, Liddell was selected to represent Britain in the 1924 Olympic Games in Paris. Learning that the heats for the 100 meter dash were to be held on Sunday, he refused to run as he felt that this would dishonor the Sabbath. He instead ran and won the 400 meter dash.
In 1925, Liddell returned to China, where he had been born, and took up the role of a missionary. He taught at an Anglo-Chinese school for wealthy Chinese students, was superintendent of the Sunday School at Union Church in Tianjin, and built the Minyuan Stadium, modeled after the Chelsea’s football grounds.
In 1932, following his ordination to ministry, he married Florence Mackenzie, a daughter of Canadian missionaries. The couple had three daughters. As World War 2 broke out, a pregnant Florence left China for Canada. Eric then took a position at a rural mission station in Xiaozhang, alongside his brother, a physician.
When the Japanese took over, Liddell went back to Tianjin for a time. In 1943 he was sent to the Weihsien internment camp along with other missionaries and foreigners. He became an organizer of prisoners and a respected leader among them. Children called him “Uncle Eric”. In 1945, he became ill, and was found to have a brain tumor. He died February 21, and was buried beneath a small wooden cross in the garden behind the Japanese officers’ quarters.
Langdon Gilkey, who would later become a theologian, said of Liddell: “Often in an evening I would see him bent over a chessboard or a model boat, or directing some sort of square dance – absorbed, weary and interested, pouring all of himself into this effort to capture the imagination of these penned-up youths. He was overflowing with good humour and love for life, and with enthusiasm and charm. It is rare indeed that a person has the good fortune to meet a saint, but he came as close to it as anyone I have ever known.”