The Final Race

by Eric T. Eichinger

  As painful as the decision was, Eric knew that the rural areas of China were no place for his wife and children. Banditry, political fighting, violence, and human depravity were part of daily life. He decided that he would go to Siaochang alone and would visit with Florence and his girls only a few days each month.

  Every moment of his life—the early years of being apart from his family, save Rob, and both his athletic and spiritual training—had prepared him for all that awaited him within the next few years.

  He simply didn’t know it yet.

  [57] D. P. Thomson, Scotland’s Greatest Athlete: The Eric Liddell Story (Barnoak, Crieff, Perthshire, Scotland: Research Unit, 1970), 105.

  [58] Ibid., 138.

  [59] David McCasland, Eric Liddell: Pure Gold: A New Biography of the Olympic Champion Who Inspired Chariots of Fire (Grand Rapids, MI: Discovery House, 2001), 183.

  [60] Ibid.

  [61] Ibid.

  CHAPTER 16

  A PROPHET IN HIS HOMETOWN

  In your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.

  1 Peter 3:15, NIV

  Late 1930s

  He missed his family. But the longer Eric spent on the mission field in Siaochang, the more he knew that he and Florence had made the right choice when they’d decided he would go it alone.

  Months had passed. Months of work.

  But every chance he could, he returned to Tientsin to Flossie and his little girls. Often when he returned, he managed to make it early enough to put them to bed but not always. On this particular night, when the moon had risen hours earlier and now shone down full and brilliant on their home, Eric paused in front of the house, looking up, scanning the windows for any sign of life. Seeing none, he tapped on the door. Seconds later, it creaked open to reveal Yu Kwan, the houseman who had worked for Eric’s mother since his birth and who had continued to serve Eric and Florence since their wedding. “Mister Eric,” he whispered.

  Eric put a finger to his lips and shushed as he walked through the door. “Has Mrs. Liddell gone to bed?”

  “Just now,” Yu Kwan said. “Probably still awake.”

  Eric rushed to the bedroom he shared with his wife to find her sitting at her dressing table, pulling a brush through her auburn hair. “Hey, Flossie.”

  She spun around gasping, then stood and crossed the room, rushing into his arms.

  The next morning, as the sun’s light replaced the moon’s glow, a tiny Heather crawled into her parents’ bed, waking them. Eric blinked as he reached to stroke her soft, dark hair, willing himself to wake fully.

  Heather jumped, then looked at her mother. “Who’s this?” she asked, her large eyes staring at Eric. “The cook?”

  Eric raised himself up on his elbows and gaped at his wife. “I knew we were friendly with the cook, but I didn’t know it had come to this!” Then he wrapped his arms around them both and drew them to his chest, which rumbled with laughter.

  * * *

  THE WEEDS OF THE WORLD had grown tall and unpruned, casting a vast shade of darkness not seen around the globe for a long time. Japan, among other notorious powers, had lurked in the shadow of these stalks for years with the poise and patience of a cat, ready to pounce on its victim. In July of 1937, Japan finally seized its moment and lunged toward its chosen prey—China.

  China, weakened by drought, regional floods, and the distractions of its own civil and political strife, was at its most vulnerable point. The people of the Middle Kingdom had been more than ready for a hopeful ray of light to burst through and bring new joy over their dim horizon. But the Land of the Rising Sun was not what they had in mind.

  A unified Japan had in relative ease sacked the major Chinese cities of the east coast and taken control of all the shipping ports. On July 30, 1937, while Florence and the girls were in Pei Tai Ho, Eric watched Tientsin fall to the Japanese. Only days earlier, when the fighting had begun, Eric—along with Carl Longman and Dr. E. J. Stuckey—had gone to the roof of MacKenzie Hospital to observe. The sounds of gunfire and the cries of the people, as well as the feelings of panic and desperation, reminded Eric of what he had experienced as a child in England as World War I took place in his backyard.

  Daily, Eric busied himself helping the Chinese refugees who poured into the school and hospital seeking safety. Within a couple of weeks, however, the Chinese returned to their homes, and Eric found that—especially for foreigners—life returned to as normal as possible under Japanese control.

  For two months—September and October—Eric returned to teaching by day and enjoying his family at night and on weekends. But in November, a desperate letter arrived in Tientsin from Will Rowlands, changing everything.

  Siaochang, he reported, had been cut off from the missionaries in Tientsin by the flooding, leaving him isolated as the lone missionary at the outpost. Information came at a minimum. Nearly everything there had been destroyed. He needed help, most especially from Dr. Rob Liddell.

  The LMS decided that Eric and Rob would venture to Siaochang to assist and restart their service, although they were uncertain of what to fully expect. After a rough start and restart, the brothers left Tientsin on November 29 and journeyed mostly by way of riverboat through the perilous countryside.

  Eric and Rob had to keep their wits about them, navigating through Japanese invaders, the Communist troops, and the national armies, as well as guerilla forces and thieving bandits who took advantage of the country’s volatility. Eric learned the hard way that he should keep his money hidden in his shoes.

  After walking the final ten miles of the journey, the Liddell brothers arrived at Siaochang to find Will Rowlands in reasonable condition and thoroughly appreciative to see his colleagues. Among their first duties was to reassess the quaint Siaochang mission, which consisted of four houses, a hospital, a women’s dorm, a church, and a boarding school.

  The flooding had indeed taken its toll. Repairs were needed. The three men discussed and evaluated a strategy for future mission work. Roughly eighty people lived in the compound. Some were strong, confessing Christians. Others, not so much. For the people’s spiritual rebuilding, Eric, Rob, and Will aimed the gospel at the center of their group and slowly worked their way out.

  The consensus was that their mission work would be conducted with the understanding that China would win the war against the Japanese—eventually; that surely, with enough persistence, China’s slow waiting-game approach of guerilla warfare would pay off. Their sheer size and volume of people had brought them victory time and again throughout history. China possessed so much land and contained vastly superior population numbers compared to Japan. Surely, the proverbial tortoise of China’s battle approach versus the hare of the Japanese would ultimately carry the day. It would only be a matter of time. How much time, no one could predict. There remained only one certain fact for Eric and Rob, as well as for the other missionaries and the Chinese people: as extreme atrocities of war brought sickening report after sickening report, life in China would be unstable for a good long while.

  Early 1938 brought Eric Liddell a new season of work—village ministry. Technically Eric carried the title of “Hospital Superintendent” of the mission, a slightly comical position in that Eric had no prior medical training. There was method to the madness, however, as the title credentialed Eric in a valuable way to the myriad warring factions swarming the area.

  Each day Eric pedaled off on his bicycle with a mounted cart in tow and a Red Cross armband securely pinned to his upper sleeve. He artfully balanced the peaceful solitary bicycle rides through the serenity of the country trails with the harrowing strategy of avoiding military forces. Despite his best efforts, Eric could not always evade being detained, searched, or interrogated. These were the times when the armband came in handy, and Eric wore it boldly.

  The Red Cross armband signaled to any hostile group that might s
eize him for questioning that he and his work fell under the auspices of the hospital mission. Eric was quickly recognized as someone who could help others, particularly soldiers who likely would be in medical need . . . if not at that moment, soon enough.

  Some interactions were more stressful than others, but Eric genuinely exuded a love for humanity like no other, a trait that transcended culture. He possessed a strong sense of the nearness of God no matter the circumstances. Because of this strong assurance, he did not become rattled when grilled for information. Instead he always managed to parlay pardon from his captors, conveyed through a smile, a shared family photograph, or gentle laughter. In this way, Eric mastered the missionary tactic of being “wise as serpents and innocent as doves” (Matthew 10:16).

  One of Eric’s strengths was his ability to quickly relate to others, even those perceived as enemies. His sincerity toward the locals was authentic and convincing.

  Eric wrote to D. P. Thomson, sharing with him some of the experiences he described as the most joyful and freedom-filled work of his time in China, even though he missed Florence and his daughters terribly.

  The floods have caused much havoc, but the loss sustained by them forms only a small part of the sorrows of the people. Fear reigns in all their hearts. Bands of irregular soldiers, bandits, etc., are all over the countryside. They settle on a village and live off it and the surrounding villages. Repeated demands are made to the villagers to supply grain, money, rifles, and food and they must supply these as best they can. Fear reigns everywhere and the bitterest thing of all is to think that this trouble comes to them from their own people in the midst of a great national tragedy. No year would have given me a better chance than this one in the country “to sit where they sit till their sorrows become my sorrows.”[62]

  No matter the task and no matter how long he was kept away from his family, Eric did not complain. He simply didn’t allow a spirit of negativity to overcome him in his new work environment. Instead, he sought the positive with extraordinary skill and used it to his advantage.

  Because many of the villagers reverently remembered Eric’s father, James, and his work among them, Eric endeared himself to the Chinese people in Siaochang’s surrounding villages with a certain indigenous quality no one else could bring. Some even remembered Eric and Rob as young boys. Just as he had been called Liddell ii back in his days at school in England, Eric now went by the local moniker Li Mu Shi—Pastor Liddell—the very title his father had been called so many years before. For Eric, this seemed another subtle wink from God, underscoring that in leaving the classroom for the countryside, he had made the right decision.

  By June, Dr. Rob Liddell—now the chief surgeon of Siaochang—felt more than ready for his furlough. He headed back to Scotland for a year with his wife, Ria. The two eagerly anticipated being with both of their children and reconnecting with their British relatives and friends.

  On the heels of Rob’s departure, Eric took a brief hiatus with his family during the month of July. Pei Tai Ho always did wonders for his soul. Dashing down the shoreline after Patricia and soaking in the ocean waters were great ways to burn off the energy of his two little girls before lunch and naptime.

  But not nearly enough time had passed before Eric had to head back to his work. Nurse Annie Buchan had returned to the hospital in Siaochang to help pick up the slack Rob’s absence had caused, but even still, Eric knew full well that with his brother gone, more would be asked of him. Not that he wouldn’t readily accept the job and perform the tasks well, because with God’s help, he would.

  The severity of the war worsened, but Eric whistled, hummed, or sang his way through the trials, sowing seeds of joy wherever disharmony clanged. The dangers were quite sobering and real. The noise of bombs, explosions, and machine-gun fire rose as common background noise to Eric’s work, both on the mission compound and in the field.

  At the close of 1938, Eric wrote Florence and their daughters a final letter for the year.

  Dear family,

  I am writing this after an eventful few days. Last Sunday we had planned to hold a big baptismal service for several nearby villages but, already the day before, we heard heavy gunfire in the distance and by breakfast time a scouting plane was circling overhead. So many from the outlying villages didn’t turn up, rightly fearing that an attack was about to start. As I addressed those receiving baptism two shells exploded outside with a terrific noise and there was silence for a moment before we were able to continue. I don’t think any who were baptised that day will easily forget what happened. No one left after the service was over, so we just continued with hymns and witness to keep up our spirits.

  As there were no opposition forces here, truckloads of Japanese soldiers soon hurtled through the village gates and they searched every building in the place. Though they came into the church they left without causing any real damage, but in the evening, when everyone had gone home and was too frightened to come to evening service, the church door opened and in came the man who used to be the local opium-addict, thanking and praising God. It seems that, having reached a living faith in Christ, he had then been arrested on a trumped-up charge but, unlike many others, he had been acquitted. Hurrying home he had come to church straight away to give thanks for his deliverance, unaware of the terror we had all known earlier in the day. Feeling I had been given a congregation, I got on with the service! . . .

  Often now when I’m cycling from village to village, what with the frozen ground and the ruts, I have great difficulty in staying on the bicycle and I’ve a splendid collection of bruises. Nearly everyone is afraid to speak to me in public, but going into their homes, telling them how so many others are in a similar situation, and getting them to sing hymns, has a wonderfully restorative effect—especially when I sing in English—which makes everyone roar with laughter, even though they don’t have much to be cheerful about. . . .

  Now, with so many homes vandalised by visiting troops, most people are living crowded together, hungry and prey to disease. At least since the National government outlawed footbinding the women and girls are spared that agonising pain and deformity, but in places where Jesus is scarcely known you find next to nothing is done to help the weak and distressed, especially children and, more especially girls. Do you remember that little girl, frostbitten as the result of neglect, whose feet had to be taken off, though with care she did grow well and strong? Well, I found out quite recently that she married and that her children taught how love can help and heal. We must never forget that Jesus means us to pass on to others His love in deeds of kind thought, remember that what is done for one of His little ones is done for Him. . . .

  But goodness knows where it will all end. What with the Japanese, local warlords and increasingly poor living conditions the situation here is growing worse each day. I wonder what has gone wrong with the world.[63]

  By summer 1939, Eric and Florence were relieved to depart China for the respite of Canada. Initially Eric offered to delay their trip, but his superiors insisted that he take the time to rest up so he could return refreshed and ready to work hard again.

  Florence grew excited to show off their two little ones to her family in Toronto and looked forward to generally enjoying life in Canada again before moving on to Britain.

  Before leaving China, Eric wrote to D. P. Thomson,

  I cannot close without a witness to the goodness of God, as a sense of his presence and protection has been constantly with me. It would be untrue to say that the year has brought no danger, but he who said “Lo, I am with you always,” has been true to his promise. . . . The flag is still flying so don’t get depressed. There is still plenty to thank God for.[64]

  The Liddells traveled to Toronto full of anticipation and glee and in search of peace. On their voyage they often stood on the ship’s deck to watch the sun rise in the mornings and then set again in the evenings. But as they enjoyed the warm summer breeze on their faces, a flame of fear had begun to spread, eventually
catching fire throughout Europe.

  And a German firebrand by the name of Adolf Hitler stood poised and ready to douse the blaze with gasoline.

  [62] David McCasland, Eric Liddell: Pure Gold: A New Biography of the Olympic Champion Who Inspired Chariots of Fire (Grand Rapids, MI: Discovery House, 2001), 204–5.

  [63] Eric Liddell to his family, December 1938, Eric Liddell Centre, accessed September 19, 2017, http://www.ericliddell.org/about-us/eric-liddell/personal-correspondence-of-eric-liddell/.

  [64] D. P. Thomson, Scotland’s Greatest Athlete: The Eric Liddell Story (Barnoak, Crieff, Perthshire, Scotland: Research Unit, 1970), 162.

  CHAPTER 17

  AN ISLAND OF PEACE

  A time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.

  Ecclesiastes 3:8

  September 1939

  Eric sat in an armchair, a cup of tea resting on the piecrust table next to him, a Canadian newspaper spread between his extended arms. He frowned at what he read, knowing full well that the headlines affected not only the world at large but also him and his family in particular.

  Greatly.

  A shuffling in front of him caused him to bring the top of the paper down. “Flossie,” he said.

  She carried her own cup of tea and wore a smile that faded as soon as she read his expression. “What is it?”

  “A German U-boat off the coast of Ireland fired a torpedo at the SS Athenia.”

  Florence eased into a nearby chair. “Did anyone—”

  “They’re dead. Nearly 120 of them.”