Missing The Flying Scotsman
The blog this week is a memorial to people that have greatly influenced me—specifically to those who’ve already gone home. Day 6...
Eric Liddell (1902-1945). “The Flying Scotsman.” I remember seeing Chariots of Fire in a theater in 1981. I remember the hair on the back of my neck tingling when I heard the iconic music by Vangelis and when I saw Eric Liddell’s flailing arms followed by his head tilting backward when he got into “the zone.” I recall thinking at the time, “What is it that makes my arms flail and my head tilt backwards? What is it for me that is the convergence of my passion and my gifting?”
I also remember Liddell’s resolve. He just wouldn’t run on Sunday. (In the movie, he finds out on the way to Paris that the 100M qualifying heats were on Sunday. In truth, he knew it for 8 months and was pressed by king and country to relent on his convictions.) Some might call that outdated legalism. Some might say it’s just plain ridiculous. But here’s the thing: Liddell’s decision wasn’t born in religion or legalism; it sprung from his core values and his obedience to God. Eric Liddell was clear about two things: he knew who he was and he knew who God was. Like Samson, he knew from where and whom his strength came. Unlike Samson, he was not willing to give up that which maintained his strength.
It wasn’t hair for Samson, and it was not Sunday sprinting for Liddell. The issue was—and is—obedience. Obedience can come at the cost of feeling like we are standing alone, as I am sure Eric Liddell felt for those eight months prior to the Olympic games in 1924. But it’s worth it. Obedience gets a bad rap these days. It’s associated with fanaticism and wackadoodles. The dangerous thing about obedience is making others feel like crap when they don’t follow convictions God has laid on your heart. Do you know who was the first person to congratulate Harold Abrahams, winner of the 1924 Olympics 100M dash? It was Eric Liddell. He ran down the stadium steps and onto the track (in real life).
Eric Liddell loved people the way a man ought to when he has such strong convictions to God. Love motivated Liddell, which is why he left for China to be a missionary the year after the 1924 Olympics. Almost twenty years later, while being held in a Japanese prison camp in China (during WWII), he developed a brain tumor. He was dead two years later in 1945, just five months before the prison was liberated by the Allies. He loved the people of China for 20 years, showing the world that the internal gold medal that comes from obedience means more than the glory of a gold medal publicly displayed around one’s neck.
His legacy of love, of conviction, of commitment, of honor, and of obedience live on. I’m challenged by Eric Liddell’s life to wrestle with things that God has put on my heart, while still serving others in love who do not share in those convictions. I’m inspired to get in “the zone” where my gifts and my passions make my arms flail and my head tilt back in the pure joy that comes from doing exactly what I am called to do—born out of being exactly who I am called to be.
Thanks Eric.
My favorite clips from the movie? That’s a blog for another day. Perhaps next week.
P.S. Trivia question: Who was the Executive Producer for the film Chariots of Fire? The answer will surprise you.
