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 seize 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
