Cullen reached into his pocket for his pipe and a small pouch of tobacco. After preparing it, he struck a match, then touched it to the sweet leaves within the bowl. “There but by the grace of God, Eric,” he said between puffs. “There but by the grace of God.”
* * *
ALTHOUGH ERIC NEVER regretted leaving his great love of track and field for missionary work, he couldn’t help but note that the winner of the 1928 Summer Olympics 400-meter race, American Ray Barbuti, won with a time slower than Eric’s in 1924.
That fall, Rob and Ria, along with their new daughter, Peggy, arrived in Siaochang to help with the rebuilding of Siaochang Mission Hospital. Rob—now Dr. Robert Liddell—also became its medical superintendent and worked alongside Nurse Annie.
In October, Eric took part in the Far Eastern Games at Port Arthur, located at the southern tip of China’s Liaodong Peninsula. There he ran the 200 meters in 21.8 seconds and the 400 meters in 47.8, finishing first in both races.
But his most challenging race came later along the streets of the seaport city and the long dock to the boat aimed for Tientsin.
Eric had run the 400 meters at 2:45 p.m. with two goals in sight—first, the finish line; second, the 3:00 boat leaving for home. With only fifteen minutes between the two—literally only a little more than fourteen after the run—Eric had hired a taxi to wait for him. His plan was a simple one: run the race well, stand for the playing of “God Save the King,” dash to the taxi. The taxi would then hurry for the dock, and—on a wing and a prayer—Eric would board the boat with a few minutes to spare.
But after his win, in addition to “God Save the King,” the band played “La Marseillaise” for the French runner who took second. As soon as the last note echoed between the stands, Eric grabbed his overcoat and his bag and dived into the waiting taxi, which then sped to the dock.
When the taxi slid to a stop and Eric jumped out, he discovered that the boat he needed to be on in order to make it back to Tientsin in time for church the following day had already left the dock.
Eric ran to the edge of the dock, his eyes wide, his mouth gaping. Just then, a tidal wave rolled the steamer back toward the dock. Eric threw his bag onto the deck, backed up a dozen or more steps, ran, and leaped across fifteen feet of dark waves, landing safely alongside his bag.
Comic books for young readers and sports pages in Scotland later appeared recounting the tale with the Flying Scot sailing over new horizons—Olympic records, Asian political adventures, and the rails of moving ships.[35]
As Eric grew in his role as teacher, local hero, and leader, Florence MacKenzie continued to develop into a fetching young woman, even as the world she lived in stood on the brink of civil war. Now nearing seventeen, Florence, like Eric, taught her own Sunday school class. Eric, who seemed to look for any excuse to be near the beauty with the long auburn curls, often dropped by her classroom if only to ask if she needed anything.
“Anything at all?” he would inquire.
Florence would assure him all was well.
He also managed to show up, quite naturally, at home during the hours Jenny instructed Florence in her music lessons. “I made it just in time for tea,” he would say. In spite of their age difference, he noticed her more often at church socials, picnics, and the dramatic plays performed by the Sunday school classes. And he couldn’t help but note that while the ten years between their ages had not changed—and would not—the older Florence became, the less peculiar his growing interest in her felt.
In late 1928, Eric sent a circular letter to several friends informing them of how life had been treating him that year and confirming that he was well aware of the things going on, both in Scotland and in China.
The year has been one of ups and downs and like many others I have sometimes felt are we getting anywhere at all. At the beginning of last year (1927) we thought that as a college we would be able to finish our academic year (June) in peace, despite the fact that a great number of colleges round about had had to close down. Our wish was not granted for there was a sudden scare in Tientsin that the Southern Army would be advancing towards it before long. . . .
We still hoped that the examinations would be able to be taken, but before long it was clearly seen that it would not be wise to go on so we closed down. The examinations were put off till September! It was rather a damper to have the work suddenly closed like that, but on thinking it over there were some things that could be said for the students. . . .
The trouble fortunately passed over. The advancing southern force was stopped and ever since has seemed to lose rather than gain power.[36]
What neither Eric nor the recipients of his letter could have known at the time was that “power” would soon take on a new meaning and “trouble” would fall upon his world in ways that would test even the strongest of believers.
Christmas 1928 came, and Eric sent out a number of Christmas cards to family and friends in Scotland, including one to the little Sunday school class of Effie Hardie. As 1929 dawned, Eric found himself faced with a new decision—his four-year commitment to TACC would meet its completion in June. His mother and father planned a furlough in June, and he thought to go with them to receive additional training and then return to the students—and Miss MacKenzie—in China. By then, she would be over eighteen. The timing seemed perfect.
But an announcement by Dr. Hart in late January 1929 changed all that.
In a February 1929 letter to Miss Hardie’s Sunday school class, Eric wrote,
Dear Miss Hardie,
Thank you for the beautiful calendar which came for Christmas, it was good just to see a bit of Old Edinburgh once again. . . .
This year I should have been returning home but I have decided to wait on another year. This decision has been aimed at owing to the ill health of our Principal. Dr. Hart has been at this college for 25 odd years and was hoping to stay another year, but this winter he has been seriously ill & the doctors advise him to return in May. I am staying on for the next year so as to save any trouble as regards two of us from the Science department being away together.
The rest of my family all go home at the same time in a month so that I will be left on my own here. The pleasure of looking after a house will be mine?!![37]
Within days of writing the letter, an unexpected change came to the Liddell home. James left for Tsangchow to attend the annual LMS District Committee meetings only to return a couple of days later, aided by Dr. Arnold Bryson. Mary gasped as she saw the condition of her husband and listened intently as Dr. Bryson explained to her that James had suffered a mild stroke not long after his departure.
James assured Mary that he now felt fine, but after a visit from their doctor, he was told to return to Scotland sooner rather than later for extended rest and relaxation. The following month, Rob arrived back at Tientsin. He and Eric escorted their parents, Jenny, and Ernest to Taku so the family could say their good-byes. This time their parents and siblings left China for Scotland, rather than the other way around, yet still leaving Rob and Eric behind as they had done so many times before.
“We’ll see you back home soon,” James assured Eric, gripping his hand. “Come when you feel the time is right.”
“And we’ll be back here as soon as your father gets better,” Mary said to Rob as she hugged him for a final good-bye.
Eric and Rob watched the family board, then remained on the dock as the ship set sail, wanting to watch and stay as close to their loved ones as possible, for as long as possible.
[35] Russell W. Ramsey, God’s Joyful Runner (South Plainfield, NJ: Bridge, 1987).
[36] Eric Liddell, circular letter, 1928, Eric Liddell Centre, accessed September 19, 2017, http://www.ericliddell.org/about-us/eric-liddell/personal-correspondence-of-eric-liddell/.
[37] Eric Liddell to Effie Hardie, February 19, 1929, Eric Liddell Centre, accessed September 19, 2017, https://www.ericliddell.org/about-us/eric-liddell/personal-correspondence-of-eric-liddell/.
CHAPTER 11
ORDINARY TIME, EXTRAORDINARY DAYS
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
1 Corinthians 13:7
Early Summer 1929
“How about a game of billiards?”
Eric glanced up from the evening meal he’d been enjoying with his three flatmates, surgeon Dr. George Dorling, grass widower Gerald Luxon, and newcomer David McGavin, a handsome bloke by anyone’s estimation.
Eric glanced from George to Gerald, then to David. “Are you speaking to me?” he asked.
“To all of you!” David exclaimed. “The evening is still young. What do you say?”
“Well . . .” Eric hemmed and hawed. “I’ve often enjoyed the order and geometrical precision of the game . . .”
David cocked his head. “The what?”
Eric threw his napkin next to his plate, as though dismissing his own words. “Sure, why not?” He pushed himself up from the chair. “Gentlemen? Shall we have a go at it?”
He raised his brow casually toward George and Gerald, who bit their lips to keep from laughing.
A short while later, after standing by idly while Eric won three out of three games, David turned to Gerald. “I may as well have asked if I could watch him sink ball after ball into the pockets.”
The laughter Gerald and George had managed to withhold for too long now erupted from their chests. “We learned a long time ago,” one of them quipped, “that playing billiards with Eric is not playing billiards with Eric.”
David looked from them to the observant Eric, who now leaned his hip against the billiard table. One hand rested near the top of his upright pool stick.
An easy smile broke across his face, one he hoped wouldn’t anger his new flatmate.
David slid his stick across the surface of the table with a grimace. “I see now, Liddell, where you misspent your youth.”
* * *
LIKE MANY CHRISTIANS, Eric pursued the irresistible lure of God’s law and its precision. One day, during their time as flatmates, Eric entered the room of the young Dr. George Dorling. He carried a copy of the New Testament in one hand, and his blue eyes held a deeper twinkle than usual. “Look at this, George,” he said, opening the book and pointing to Matthew 5:48. “‘Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.’” Eric straightened. “He said it, and he means it. You and I can and should be no less than that—perfect, even as our heavenly Father is perfect.”
When he left the room, George pondered the way Eric lived, how he sought God earnestly, and how he weighed out his own actions when he fell short of that perfection he felt so called to achieve. Eric, George surmised, never spoke unkindly of anyone, always seeking to find the good in them, even if only the tiniest ember. “We three,” Dr. Dorling said years later, “were miles below the standard Eric set for himself.”[38]
Life continued at its usual nonstop pace.
Eric and his flatmates rose each morning to breakfast, served at 7:30 by Kwei Lin, their cook. After finishing the first meal of the day, each man returned to his own private quarters for quiet time, then left for work.
Eric taught from nine to four o’clock, followed by afternoon tea. Later the men enjoyed their dinner meal, typically an English one. And each day, Eric managed to sneak a peek at the young Miss MacKenzie and to note that she grew more and more beautiful. Because Jenny had gone to Scotland, Florence no longer took piano lessons in his old home, which meant Eric could no longer “happen by” for tea, or just “happen” to need a book from the room adjacent to the piano room.
Eric needed a plan B.
Keissling and Boder, a Tientsin German restaurant, was famous for its cakes and chocolates and ice creams. Of course Eric, a teacher, could not ask Florence, a student, to go for dessert alone, so instead of asking her only, he asked if her siblings might like to come along as well. “My treat,” he said.
Before long, not only did Florence and “four or five of the younger MacKs” enjoy the fruit of Eric’s pocket change, but their invited friends did as well.
At the opening of summer 1929, with another year behind him, Eric went to Pei Tai Ho for his annual vacation to spend time relaxing in the summer sunshine, to bathe in the warm beach water, to catch up on his reading and his napping . . . and to continue his pursuit of getting to know better the object of his growing affection. The MacKenzie family was also vacationing in Pei Tai Ho. Seeing Florence on the beach or during group activities was easy enough, but he now knew for certain that if he was going to keep the younger men from attempting to court her, he’d have to monopolize her time a bit more creatively.
As he’d done in Tientsin, he managed to arrive on the front porch of the MacKenzies’ cottage for afternoon tea. Then, as the sun sank toward the horizon, he’d ask Florence if she’d like to take a stroll along the beach. She’d accept, and while the world grew pink and brilliantly orange around them, they’d talk leisurely about anything and everything.
Florence’s physical loveliness aside, Eric found in her a young woman of great Christian character, energy, and wit. And as with everyone who knew Eric, Florence found his gentleness and kindness, his mischievousness, his way with children, and his love of God to be exceptionally charming and drawing.
During this time, Eric continued his strong friendship with “the other Eric,” teacher Eric Scarlett.
In a letter to friends, Eric wrote,
Mr. Scarlett, one of the other foreign teachers, and I have been having our mid-day meal with the students lately, instead of going home. This is something that foreigners have not done in recent years and it certainly was a bit of an eye opener. . . .
There is a good deal of talk about there being no need for foreigners out here etc. that I cannot agree with. We certainly have something to give to China just as China has something to give to us. The standards always seem to decrease unless there is a foreigner at the head. (Ch’a bu dou) is a great expression with them, it means, good enough or near enough and it is an indication of the character of a great number of the people. Exactness they do not worry about.[39]
In August, before school started and while Eric was still on “vacation,” the two Erics, known as Liddell and Scarlett, led a camp in Pei Tai Ho for over thirty poor boys (all but two of them Russian) from Tientsin. For two weeks, the two Erics engaged the boys in activities designed for both body and soul.
When their time together came to a close, Scarlett said, “They’re not only more fit, they weigh more leaving than coming in.” He suggested that they do it again in the future.
In the fall of 1929, with classes at TACC well under way again, Eric caught the news that Dr. Otto Peltzer, the reigning world record holder in the 500 meters, the 800 meters, and the 1,500 meters, planned to visit China. While he was there, someone suggested organizing a race between the two champions.
Eric had hardly been in training—and said as much—but acquiesced because of the fun the event would bring. He won the 400 with a time of 49.1 seconds; Otto—a lanky twenty-nine-year-old German with a dimpled chin—took the win in the 800.
When the races were done and hands had been clasped in congratulations, Otto turned to Eric and said, “You know, with training, you could be the world’s greatest at the 800.”
“Oh, no,” Eric said. “I don’t think so.”
“You should do it. Train and then enter the 800 meters in the next Olympic Games. They’re being held in Los Angeles in America.”
“America? Won’t that cost the Olympics in competitors?” Remembering how financially skinned he’d been during the 1924 Games, he added, “Most European athletes won’t be able to afford the trip.”
“Could be, but the Games are worldwide, you know, not just European.”
Eric nodded in agreement.
“So, you’ll do it?” Otto teased.
“No,” Eric answered, his head dipping shyly. “I’m much too old now.”
Otto laughed. “O
h, but I’m older than you,” he said, “and I’m entering!”
On November 25, 1929, Florence celebrated her eighteenth birthday.
Shortly after, she and Eric took another of the long walks they’d both come to look forward to, this one because Eric sensed a burgeoning anxiety growing in her.
“Talk to me,” he said.
“I’m not sure of what’s ahead,” she told him. “I have always wanted to go into nursing—that much I know—but the entrance to the school I want to attend in Canada is extremely competitive.” She sighed. “In only a few weeks I’ll have to take my exams, and I’m worried I won’t do so well.”
He took a deep breath and held it. He would pray for her, of course, but what if his prayer for her meant losing her? What if she went to Canada and never came back? With a sudden exhale, he said, “What I’ve really been hoping for quite some time is that you’ll come back here and marry me.”
Florence stopped and turned to him, her eyes wide. “What?” She blinked. “What did you say?”
Eric chuckled deep in his throat. “I’ve hoped—for quite some time—that you would marry me.”
Florence’s lips broke into a generous smile. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” he said. “What about you?”
“I—I—gracious, Eric. I’ve nearly worshiped the ground you’ve walked upon but you are ten years older and I didn’t want anyone to think badly of you . . . because you shouldn’t have to endure that and—oh, Eric. I do love you . . . and if you’re sure . . .”
The Final Race Page 9
