Still at the station, Eric loaded their luggage—the heavier pieces for Vancouver and the rest for Toronto. The clock struck midnight, and Eric found a ready taxi to take them back to the ship in hopes of bunking there. But as soon as they arrived, a shipmate informed them that “all the beds have been stripped, sir.”
Bone-weary, Eric, Florence, and the girls slept in their traveling clothes on top of bare mattresses.
Ten days later, after spending time with family in Toronto, a long train through Canada forged the Liddells across North America. Their visit with the family had been wonderful but not long enough.
Never long enough.
Another long but considerably less terrifying voyage across the Pacific to China awaited them. Finally, after a little over a year abroad, they arrived back in Tientsin in late October 1940 and began to prepare for a move to Siaochang.
Eric and Florence had spent many hours during their trans-Atlantic and trans-Pacific journeys discussing the possibility of moving the family to Siaochang. Perhaps it might be different this time, they reasoned. Perhaps it would be safer and their family could stay together rather than having only the snippets of time together that Eric’s solitary work afforded them.
But their expectations were not matched with the current developments in Asia. Siaochang—and the rest of China—had changed a lot during their time away, and not for the better.
Quiet murmurs buzzed that there was a possibility of all foreigners being sent out of China—or detained. Eric and Florence immediately felt the shattering of their hopes of staying together. Florence and the girls moved back into their house in Tientsin while Eric headed out for Siaochang.
But when Eric arrived there, he found the village garrisoned and its south side surrounded by a high wall. Land had been requisitioned without compensation. Graveyards had been desecrated, and the mission had been closed. Because of its value to the Japanese, the compound had also been turned into an impromptu Japanese base camp, although the hospital stayed operational. Dr. Ken McAll and Nurse Annie Buchan worked under that stress and were overjoyed when Eric arrived.
Eric stayed with area missionaries and traveled around the region on his bicycle.
His muscles reminded him his first week back that he had not pedaled for a year on the cumbersome trails of the northern China backcountry. He powered through it in his signature style, popping in on various churches. He concentrated on the many new villages in the southern territories of Siaochang that he had not visited much, if at all, in the past, and he realized that in the midst of fears and alarms, the world and life goes on.
Eric did his best to spread hope by speaking, teaching, and always thinking about how to make a contribution to ensure a better world. Eric described his work as “giving, giving, all the time, and trying to get to know the people, and trying to leave them a message of encouragement and peace in a time when there is no external peace at all.”[71]
Dr. Ken McAll, a bit of a neophyte to the rural missionary setting he had been called to, offered a portrait of Siaochang life at that time:
In the hospital we have been able to help the wounded of four armies, the Japanese, the Chinese Central Army, the Eight Route Army, and the Chinese Army that is helping itself under the Japanese. The local people are not unanimous as to which of the first three types of armies they prefer, as most people think of their own money and food before their country. . . . We have had many visits from troops as they have passed through or used our Mission as a base for operations. . . . With these visits we usually have a huge rush of refugees from the village. We take all the women and children into the Church. It shows that in their mind we stand for a safe refuge, unbroken by the worldly warring outside.
Our peaceful state is, some of us think, due to an early attitude that Eric Liddell helped us to; one of treating all these soldiers as children of God whom he cares for; and that it was for us, as we showed these over the premises to witness to them, explain why we were here, and try to help them as we ourselves have been helped by the Almighty. To this end, Eric spent most of one day with the Japanese in our Hsien city, and I think those who listened certainly caught some of his idea, for the next time they came they were full of questions, and one Japanese spent an hour with me in my room in hospital.
It is possible that there was room for doubt as to the genuine spirit of this Japanese response. But there can be none as to the eager sincerity of Eric Liddell’s desire for them.[72]
Despite the obvious and constant challenges, Eric shared a unique perspective of seeing avenues for the gospel of Jesus in unobvious ways, ways the average person would not see. He wanted to help others see the beneficial effect beyond the naked action of the service itself. Even the smallest labor of love mattered. Eric believed that through service to others, God is there—hidden and helping through the hands of the helper.
LMS missionaries to China felt a most difficult sting. Months went by without letters from England. For those whose children went to school there, the agony of not knowing how their loved ones were faring during the war was nearly unbearable. Eric and Florence had not heard from family since their return either.
Even as the usual joy of Christmas wove its way in, Eric watched Chinese men—miserable and dispirited—forced to work for the Japanese. He was
