By all accounts, Eric Liddel, immortalized in the movie Chariots of Fire, was the embodiment of an old soul. At age 22, he won a gold medal at the 1924 Paris Olympics in the 400m race for Britain, and after over twenty years as a missionary to China, died there at age 43 in a Japanese internment camp at the end of WWII. But the real story lies beneath such events.
The movie turns on the contrast between Liddel and his Olympic teammate Harold Abrahams and sister Jenny. Abrahams is obsessed with running, determined to win at any cost as revenge for antisemitic prejudice and proof of his superiority. Jenny is obsessed with religious duty and chastises her brother when he misses a prayer meeting, frivolously training for the Olympics. He tells her: I believe God made me for a purpose—for China. But he also made me fast, and I feel his pleasure when I run.
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Abrahams and Jenny are the same person with different agendas. Driven, anxious, identified only with what they could do. Liddel’s genius was to find within every physical task an eternal task always pointing to connection. That true meaning and purpose is found in that connection and nowhere else, and addressing that connection is to never let the hard work of change eclipse the radical acceptance of right now. That to celebrate the connections around us now is to accept ourselves and everything just as we are. Even as we train and strain toward not yet.
Everything we do is meaningless…
Until the moment duty is no longer obligation and running is no longer winning. Just the feeling of God’s pleasure in the breeze of our passage.
