“When and where?” Eric asked.
“Friday night. In Armadale.”
Eric nodded, his eyes searching the pattern of the floor’s rug as his heart called out to his heavenly Father for direction. Within a moment, the answer came, and Eric looked from the floor to the man sitting only a few feet away, anxiousness etched into his face.
“All right,” Eric said. “I’ll come.”
ONE DAY, when speaking of this meeting with D. P. Thomson, Eric would say,
I was brought up in a Christian home where the stories of the Bible were often told and became familiar to me. In school, the stories of the Bible and the teachings of Christ were placed before me. The beauty of the Christian life began to appeal to me. The time came when the appeal of Christ became more personal and I began to realize that it was going to affect my life. In this experience of Christ there was a sense of sin but that was not nearly so great as the sense of being called to do a piece of work for which I was absolutely unqualified. My whole life had been one of keeping out of public duties but the leading of Christ seemed now to be in the opposite direction, and I shrank from going forward. At this time I finally decided to put it all on Christ—after all if He called me to do it, then He would have to supply the necessary power.[5]
D. P. decided that Rob should come and speak in Armadale as well. While Thomson was delighted and Rob willing, Eric felt the familiar inner butterflies that always showed up before a race. The morning after Eric’s visit from Thomson, a letter arrived addressed to Eric from his sister Jenny. Her correspondence ended with a passage from Scripture, Isaiah 41:10: “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.”
Eric, feeling ill-prepared for his new quest, was greatly comforted by this peculiarly timed oracle.
On Friday evening, April 6, 1923, Rob and Eric prepared to speak to the crowd of about eighty men. Rob spoke first and performed adequately but not as dynamically as Thomson had hoped.
Then Eric stepped up. Quiet and unassuming, he shared a few Bible passages and his faith in Jesus Christ and encouraged the young men with coal-dusted faces to trust Christ as well. To no one’s surprise—save perhaps Eric’s—his first speech was a smashing success.
The local newspapers picked up the story that the famous Scottish athlete Eric Liddell was speaking about his faith. The news rippled throughout the United Kingdom. After that, anytime it was announced that Eric would be speaking, large crowds responded. One week after the minor attendance in Armadale, Eric and D. P. spoke to a crowd of more than six hundred in Rutherglen. Everyone wanted to see the Flying Scotsman up close. Whether they just wanted to brush up against a rising celebrity or had a deep desire to hear his words, their motivations didn’t matter at the outset. The most important thing was that people showed up.
Thomson was eager to train Eric in how best to articulate his faith. Dwight L. Moody, an American evangelist who encouraged a straightforward, winsome style of Bible teaching, had influenced D. P. Thomson greatly in his approach to ministry. Thomson found Moody’s writings inspiring and enjoyed observing the results from implementing his methods. The unassuming tactics of decision theology—teaching people to decide to accept Jesus and to follow him—seemed to Eric easy enough to understand and communicate. Eric had little evangelism experience and only basic theological training, but he was sincere and committed to Christ.
Thomson, whose inspiring mentors also included Henry Sloane Coffin, possessed a slightly different, more pragmatic definition of living faith than Eric had grown up with. “Brought up in a Christian home,” Thomson wrote in his journal describing his early observation of Eric, “inspired by the highest ideals from childhood, guided in all he did by Christian principles, Eric Liddell had, I believe, long before that day, a faith in Jesus Christ at once simple and strong. To his own great impoverishment, however, as well as to that of others, he had been until then a secret disciple. Of his influence for good there could be no question—it was acknowledged on every hand—but he had never disclosed its secret, and had never openly confessed his Lord.”[6]
Eric might not have agreed with D. P. about the secrecy of his faith, having publicly professed it earlier in school and at chapel and church services. Eric’s Congregationalist values were open to alternative philosophies. Congregationalists generally had no issue with exploring doctrinal nuances, the role of baptism, or the interplay between law and gospel from the broad spectrum of Christianity. But when Eric spoke before the growing crowds, he simply told his personal story, explained the strength behind his faith, and encouraged those listening to believe.
Eric’s raw but genuine delivery would soon be honed under the watchful tutorial of Thomson.
Eric’s rising popularity led to more opportunities and to larger and larger crowds at events now known as “Muscular Christianity Campaigns.” Students and local athletes were invited to a “campaign,” where they had fun participating in or watching staged matches or competitions. Eric took part in these, much to his delight . . . and the crowd’s. Above all, those in attendance came to understand that Christianity bore no resemblance to weakness or boredom. Rather, being a Christian was exciting.
One afternoon the postman delivered a large stack of mail to Eric—something he had become uneasily accustomed to. But this particular stack held an envelope with an interesting bit of correspondence. A young girl, Miss Elsa McKechnie, informed Eric that she had formed the official “Eric Liddell Fan Club” and was eager to hear back from him. Eric always tried to correspond with everyone who took the time
