A few months before my wife and I became engaged, we saw a movie that we knew nothing about. As we left the theater that summer night in 1981, we were speechless. The acting, the soundtrack and the message of “Chariots of Fire” deeply impacted both Wendy and me. I wanted to know more about Eric Liddell whose life as an Olympic athlete and a man of faith had been portrayed on the big screen.

In the film about his life, I loved how Eric responded to his sister when she challenged his desire to race instead of being involved in the family’s missionary pursuits. “Jenny, God made me for a purpose… But He also made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure.”

Who was this Scottish runner who won the right to compete in the 1924 Paris Olympics but, upon learning that his event would take place on a Sunday, refused to run? What are we make of his personal conviction to not compete on the Lord’s Day? And then, what became of this young man who actually won first place when allowed to compete in another event on a different day?

Over time I would learn that the Flying Scotsman (after his gold medal performance in the 400 meters) eventually joined his family in China working for the London Missionary Society. Following the Japanese invasion of China and the outbreak of World War 2, Eric became of prisoner of war where he used his spiritual knowledge and athletic prowess to encourage his fellow prisoners. Tragically, Eric died of a brain tumor just a few months before liberation.

One scene I particularly recall from the film is that of Eric standing behind the pulpit in an English-speaking church in Paris giving the sermon on the Sunday he was originally scheduled to compete. That scene came to mind a couple months ago when Wendy and I were spending a weekend in Paris before returning home from a three-month ministry assignment in Switzerland. As we worshipped at the American Church in Paris, I wondered if that gothic cathedral with Tiffany stained-glass windows was the church portrayed in Chariots of Fire.

Following the worship service, I asked the pastor if this was the church. He told me it couldn’t have been since ACP was constructed three years after the Paris Games of 1924. I later discovered that there was another English-speaking church in Paris where Eric was the guest preacher. All the same, it was special to attend church in Paris on the one-hundredth anniversary of Eric Liddell’s performance on the track and in the pulpit.

While I am impressed by the courage and personal conviction displayed by Eric in choosing not to compete on a Sunday, I am wondering if I would have made the same choice. In all honesty, I don’t think I would have. Although raised in a decade where Sunday blue laws were still enforced, I have come to interpret keeping the Sabbath holy in a less-legalistic way. While I attend church most every Sunday, I am not opposed to going to a Mariners game or watching the Seahawks in a sports bar. I have been known to run to Safeway for a quart of milk or a frozen pizza.

On the other hand, I have Jewish neighbors who strictly honor the Sabbath by not working, driving or attending sporting events. They do not watch television or use the internet. I respect them for their discipline. I am impressed by their willingness to walk to and from the synagogue in all kinds of weather. My neighbors are willing to sacrifice convenience or risked being misunderstood in order to practice their faith.

As we watch the athletes from around the globe compete over the next couple weeks, we will see the fruit of self-discipline and personal conviction. Those who represent their home country in Paris are there because they made difficult choices to live out their dream in spite of the cost.

For Eric Liddell, honoring the Lord’s Day (as he understood it) was a tangible way of feeling God’s pleasure in addition to running. Perhaps we need to ask what the non-negotiables are for us when it comes to pursuing our dreams all the while practicing our faith.

Guest columnist Greg Asimakoupoulos is a former chaplain at Covenant Living at the Shores in Mercer Island.