The Race He Wasn't Supposed to Run

Eric Liddell was Britain's fastest man heading into the 1924 Paris Olympics. Every expert expected him to win gold in the 100-meter dash. But when he learned the qualifying heats would fall on a Sunday, he withdrew — quietly, firmly, without apology. Obedience to God, he believed, wasn't negotiable.

The pressure was enormous. British officials pleaded. Newspapers questioned his patriotism. A prince personally asked him to reconsider. But Liddell had already answered the harder question: whom did he ultimately serve?

He pivoted to the 400 meters — a longer, punishing race outside his specialty — and spent months retraining for an event few thought he could win. On July 11, 1924, Eric Liddell crossed the finish line first, setting a world record of 47.6 seconds.

But here is what the gold medal didn't capture: the real victory had already been won months earlier, in the quiet moment when a young Scotsman chose obedience over opportunity.

Obedience rarely feels like the winning strategy in the moment. It looks like giving something up — a race, a promotion, a relationship we want. But God's call is never arbitrary. He sees the whole track from above, and when we trust His timing and His lane, we often find we were running toward something better than we had imagined.

Liddell once wrote that he felt most alive, most himself, when he honored the God who made him. That kind of freedom — deep, rooted, joyful — only comes when we run in the lane He assigns.