As the world gathers together to exalt in the epitome of human athletic achievement, the century-old story of Olympian Eric Liddell reminds us that there is something greater, grander, and exponentially more glorious than even the Olympic Games.

At the core of the human experience is a longing for belonging and a search for significance.  We long to look upon greatness and to experience true and lasting peace. We love the excitement of competition and the prestige of world-class sport.  And these are just some of the reasons why the world is so captivated by the Olympics.  

Sitting with our family, watching the opening ceremonies of the 2024 Paris Olympics, I was struck by both the grandeur and grotesqueness of the over-the-top display.  The sheer scale of the festivities were centered around a 94-boat flotilla transporting 10,500 of the world’s top athletes down the historic Seine. Peppering coverage of the flotilla was a highly creative, odd, and at times unsettling collection of vignettes celebrating the clichés of French culture and heritage.  From beheaded kings and queens set to death metal, to a tribute to love without moral bounds, to drag queens and a naked representation of Dionysus eerily similar to da Vinci’s, The Last Supper, there was much to give followers of Christ significant pause. Yet, even still, the swelling music, the grandiose scale, the powerful imagery – all of it crescendoed into a moving, emotional and even a sort of worshipful celebration as the Olympic Flame was lit. 

As the official pop song of the Olympics, Imagine, by John Lennon, echoed through the crowds – the applause and adulation of the commentators ringing in the background – it all hinted at what is, I would argue, the darkest reality of the Olympics.  This celebration of human achievement – this aspirational proclamation of peace and unity forevermore – was completely devoid of any mention of God.  If the lyrics of Imagine are to be believed, it is not the embrace of true religion, but the abolition of all religion, that will bring us lasting peace and unity.  But, lest we miss the reverential, worshipful tone the opening ceremonies often took, it’s not so much that there should be no religion, but that the religion of secular humanism is our only hope. Like the monolithic spectacle that was the Tower of Babel, the Olympic fanfare rises from the dust of human depravity, to erect a grand edifice, full of self-exaltation and dedicated to the glory of the human race. Of course, many Olympians are religious, and among them, no doubt, are many Christians – but on a macro level, thanksgiving to God wasn’t even on the radar.  Behind the pomp and fanfare was the presumption that humanity, and humanity alone, deserves the glory.  We presume to have freed ourselves from what we see as the oppressive shackles of God.  Such is the ethos of the modern Olympic movement.  

Thomas Jolly, creative director for the opening ceremonies, illustrates this perspective well in his remarks about the controversial drag queen tableau, saying, “When we want to include everyone and not exclude anyone, questions are raised… In France, we have freedom of creation, artistic freedom. We are lucky in France to live in a free country. I didn’t have any specific messages that I wanted to deliver. In France, we are republic, we have the right to love whom we want, we have the right not to be worshippers, we have a lot of rights in France, and this is what I wanted to convey.”

Yet, even in the very subject matter of their celebration, we can see why all such godless pursuits are in vain.  Power will always corrupt, equality will always exclude some, and liberty will always lead to selfish license.  For example, in celebrating the ideal of liberty, the program invoked the image of dozens of beheaded aristocrats, set to death metal, and concluding with a blast of crimson streamers designed to look like the splattering of blood. Is this truly what liberty looks like?  Or is this just a celebration of corrupt human power taking out earthly vengeance, presenting it as the virtuous victory of the masses?    

A Greater Glory

“For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.”

Philippians 1:21, NASB1995

In stark contrast, I offer to you the life of Eric Liddell. One hundred years ago, at the second Paris Olympics in 1924, this champion English olympian did the unthinkable – forfeiting the race he was favored to win, because in order to qualify, he would have had to race on a Sunday.  If we’re honest, such a choice probably seems a bit absurd to our modern ears.  Why would Liddell, after all the years of training, practice, blood, sweat and tears, willingly walk away from the only chance to prove he was the greatest 100 meter runner in the world?  Was it merely the restrictive and legalistic rules of his faith that held him back, or was he living in pursuit of a greater and more lasting prize?  To answer that question, we’ll need to go back further still, to 1902 – half a world away in the bustling coastal city of Tientsin (now Tianjin), China.  

His parents, the Reverend & Mrs. James Dunlop Liddell, had answered the call to missions, uprooting the comfortable Scottish life they had known to become missionaries to China with the London Mission Society.  In the winter of 1902, Eric was born to the couple, their then second child.  He spent his early formative years alongside his parents, witnessing their love for the people of China.  But, as was common among missionary families of the time, at the age of six, Eric, together with his older brother, began their formal education back in the West, at a boarding school for missionary children, Eltham College, Blackheath, in England.  For the next twelve years, he attended school there, excelling in his studies, and becoming quite the accomplished athlete. 

“24 Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win. 25 Everyone who competes in the games exercises self-control in all things. They then do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable.”

1 Corinthians 9:24,25, NASB1995

By the time of the 1924 Olympics, Liddell had earned the unofficial title, “The Fastest man in Scotland”, and was strongly favored to win the 100 meter sprint.  But there was a problem.  The qualifying heats were scheduled for a Sunday.  Liddell was convinced that to race on a Sunday would be to dishonor the God he loved, and so he laid this dream at the Savior’s feet, a small sacrifice in light of what the Lord had done for him.  By God’s grace, Liddell entered the 400 meter race, instead, unexpectedly taking home the gold for England, and securing a new world record time of just 47.6 seconds – setting a blistering pace of 18.8 miles per hour.  But Liddell’s story doesn’t end here. Far from it. Speaking of his grand achievement, Liddell said this: 

“It has been a wonderful experience to compete in the Olympic Games and to bring home a gold medal. But since I have been a young lad, I have had my eyes on a different prize. You see, each one of us is in a greater race than any I have run in Paris, and this race ends when God gives out the medals.”

Less than a year after his Olympic triumph, Liddell returned to China to follow in his parents’ footsteps.  There, he would serve as a missionary teacher from 1925 to 1943 – first in Tientsin, moving later to the town of Xiaozhang.  But it wasn’t long before the drums of war grew to a crescendo as the Empire of Japan invaded China – beginning in 1937, and moving inland over the coming years. In 1943 Liddell would be taken prisoner – yet even in internment, he ministered to the people and guards of his camp.  Liddell would not survive the war – dying of cancer, perhaps hastened by malnutrition and overwork, in the camp, on February 21, 1945, just five months before liberation.  

What are we to do?

“We are all missionaries. Wherever we go we either bring people nearer to Christ or we repel them from Christ.

Eric Liddell

As we meditate on the example of Eric Liddell, and his pursuit of God, what should Christians make of the Olympics?  How should we respond to the brokenness of our world, put on display and celebrated, as we so vividly witnessed in the opening ceremonies?  Should we pound our fists against our shields, take up our culture warrior swords, declare war and pronounce judgment on the masses with vitriol and anger?  No.  This is not the way of the cross.  And while there is a place for anger in the Christian faith, as evidenced both by Christ and the words of Paul (Ephesians 4:26) and James (James 1:19), such anger should quickly give way to humble compassion and godly sorrow.  Were it not for the grace of God, my friends, we would be just as lost.  

“Do not judge so that you will not be judged. 2 For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you. 3 Why do you look at the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? 4 Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ and behold, the log is in your own eye? 5 You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.”

Matthew 7:1-5, NASB1995

We see the evidence of this in Matthew 7.  Though our culture is increasingly biblically illiterate, this one verse is widely known, and embraced by our culture as the summation of what Christians ought to be.  The problem is, it’s taken out of context.  This is not a passage about “you do you, and I’ll celebrate it”.  Rather, as Jesus makes plain, it’s an example of how to rightly judge. Verses 2-4 describe how we naturally judge.  In our self-righteousness, we condemn another person by our judgment.  What we desire is punishment, and it’s motivated by blind pride.  But verse 5 offers a better way – a way of restorative love, deeply impacted by grace.  When I first see the wickedness of my sin, and the great cost that was paid to remove the log from my own eye, I am able to lovingly seek the restoration of another.  The difference between the two is night and day.      

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If you have not yet read it, our post on Enemy Love unpacks the upside-down call of Christ to love our enemies, to do good to those who would harm us, and the amazing Gospel-witness of such radical sacrifice.

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“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were unwilling.”

Matthew 23:37, NASB1995

While outrage is in vogue, as Christians, we should neither be surprised or enraged when we see the sins of others.  It’s to be expected.  We all are far from perfect, and if even Christians sin day in and day out, how can we not expect the same and more from those who have never tasted the sweet waters of the Gospel? When we see the sin of the world on display, we should join with our Lord in weeping (Luke 19:41) over their brokenness. We should long for their rescue.  This is the way of the cross.   

Indeed, on the 100th anniversary of Eric Liddell’s sacrifice and triumph in the service of Jesus, might we too, in word and deed point to our hope, found in the Gospel of Jesus Christ alone – a certain-sure hope that is far more grand, significant, satisfying, and exponentially more glorious than even the Olympic Games.  To that end, consider sharing this video I discovered while researching this article, with your friends:

Might the Lord be pleased to light the true eternal flame in the hearts of the world through the self-denying, Christ-centered story of Eric Liddell, and through our own faint reflections of our great Redeemer King!