At Morningside, Eric became active in the Young People’s Union. While so many other young men and women his age sought new ways to carouse and carry on, Eric made faith the central focus of his life. Without a backward glance, he wholeheartedly poured himself into his role within the church and his walk with God.
What Eric could not have known then—and perhaps didn’t realize until much later in his life—was that his walk would become a run, leading him to do more of God’s work outside the church than he could have ever imagined.
On February 23, 1921, Eric Liddell officially signed his name in the books and became a student at the University of Edinburgh. A few months later, Rob and Eric stood on the train station platform to welcome James. The senior Liddell had a short time to be with his family before his work took him to the various Congregational churches in Britain. But James wanted more out of his trip home than work-related visits and time with family. He’d begun to hear rumors about Eric’s sporting accomplishments. So in addition to wanting to spend time with Eric—a rarity for the Liddells—James’s heart held a great desire to see his second son run.
But for Eric, sports had taken a sudden backseat to his zeal for examining creation in the shadows of Edinburgh’s academic legends, such as Charles Darwin and David Hume, both of whom had walked the green courtyard and age-old halls of the university generations before. He became exposed to and familiar with Darwin’s theory of evolution and Hume’s major thesis born out of the Enlightenment: The laws of nature are inviolate; miracles violate the laws of nature; therefore, miracles do not exist.
Rather than allowing these thoughts to turn his heart from Christ, Eric enjoyed the challenges and appreciated the complexities of theology, philosophy, and science. He noted that these and numerous other theories omitted Christ’s divine role in these matters. However, as a devout Christian and principled man of faith, he pressed forward, knowing that it was best to keep God factored into the equation of his scientific studies.
When educational responsibilities proved to be exhausting, Eric returned to the physical release and exhilaration of athletics. Playing alongside Rob, who had already established himself on the university rugby team and made a name for himself in his own right, rekindled Eric’s joy for the game. Together the two became stars for the Edinburgh University rugby team’s fifteen-man roster. When the Liddell brothers were on the paddock in winged tandem, it was a special time for them . . . and a special year for Edinburgh. Eric cherished every scrum, try, and goal because he knew this would be the last athletic season he and Rob would share at this caliber of play.
But the end came sooner than Eric anticipated. With Rob rigorously studying medicine and preparing to be a doctor, attempts to balance both medical academics and athletics at a high level became too much of a challenge. Rob decided to throw all his energies into becoming a doctor, which meant—in some ways—Eric found himself alone again.
May 1921 brought the university’s annual sports day, which was primarily dedicated to track and field. The previous year an extremely talented and versatile athlete, W. L. Hunter, had graduated from the university. Hunter’s completion of his studies left an athletic void no one expected to be filled anytime soon. And certainly no one had their eye on any of the freshmen.
But when Hunter left, Liddell entered.
A new dawn was about to break.
CHAPTER 3
THE STARTER’S PISTOL
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it.
1 Corinthians 9:24
March 1921
Nineteen-year-old Eric Liddell squinted one eye against the afternoon sunlight as he returned his teacup to its saucer. Across the outdoor table sat a school chum from Eltham, one who had also matriculated to the University of Edinburgh. “Run in the sports day games?” Eric asked with a shake of his head. “I don’t think you realize how busy I am.”
His friend laughed easily, hunched over the table, and reached for his tea by the cup’s rim. “And I don’t think you realize how good you are.”
A blush warmed Eric’s cheeks, already toasty from May’s heat. “I appreciate that—I do—but—”
“But what?” The young man leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. “Come on. You’ve been all about the books lately. Don’t you miss sports? Even a little?”
Eric thought a moment. Oh, yes. He missed the games. But shouldn’t his focus be solely on schoolwork now? Schoolwork and church?
“All work,” the friend said with a lilt in his voice, “and no play makes Eric a dull boy.”
Eric laughed. “I’d have to train and—”
“I could help. Get you ready for the 100.”
“You?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Eric folded his arms across his chest. “What do you know about training for the 100?”
The young man paused. Blinked. Then grinned. “Nothing. But I say we give it a go. We have a few weeks. If you don’t win—or don’t do well at all—why, I won’t bring it up again.”
Eric inhaled deeply. With spring in full bloom, the fresh air had made him feel alive again after hunkering over books during the long winter. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained?” he asked.
“Right.”
“Okay, then. I’ll have a go at it.”
GAMES WERE JUST THAT—GAMES. And Eric had not put serious thought into them. His true focus had been elsewhere, in areas he felt it should be: his spiritual life and academics. This was not to say that Eric didn’t genuinely love running, because he did. Running well—and running fast—came as naturally to him as