Billy Graham, ’43 graduate of Wheaton College, emerges from an honorable heritage of “crusade” evangelists like D.L. Moody, Wilbur Chapman and Billy Sunday, preachers renowned for conducting massive citywide campaigns. Laying the groundwork for all such ministries, however, was Charles Grandison Finney (1792-1875), the first great evangelist of the Second Great Awakening, who established such familiar patterns as offering the public invitation (now known as the “alter call”) to sinners to accept Christ’s free gift of grace, encouraging them to walk forward and deal with God at an “anxious bench;” and praying extemporaneously from the pulpit, rather than reading from a book. Finney’s innovations, now common practice, were groundbreaking for American Protestantism. As such his influence deeply colored the spirit of Wheaton College, though he never visited its campus.

Initially practicing law in New York, Finney dramatically converted to Christ through the counsels of Presbyterian theologian George Washington Gale. Studying for the ministry under Gale, Finney acquired his preaching license and served as pastor for several years in New York City before commencing his extraordinarily successful itinerant preaching. Eventually he served from 1851-65 as professor and president of Oberlin College in Ohio. Finney, an ex-Mason, was fiercely anti-Lodge and unshakably abolitionist. These qualities were most appealing to a young pastor named Jonathan Blanchard, visiting the Oberlin campus to deliver a speech, in addition to investigating the work of the Holy Spirit among the students and staff. Blanchard would serve as president of Knox College in Galesburg, Illinois, a work community named after the man who converted Finney, George W. Gale. In the late 1860s, after Blanchard had assumed the presidency of Wheaton College, Finney fully supported his efforts in founding The Christian Cynosure, the printing agency of the National Christian Association, dedicated to thwarting the Masonic Lodge.

Jonathan’s son, Charles Blanchard, second president of Wheaton College, remembers Finney from a visit to Oberlin:

President Finney of Oberlin was another of the great souls whom God permitted me to meet in my early public life. Lecturing in his city he invited me to dinner and gave me the privilege of an hour or so of delightful conversation. Among other things he said: “You frequently meet with opposition, do you not, in your work against the lodges?” I replied that this was true. He said: “That is always true when you are doing good. It used to be true of us here in Oberlin. When I came to this place there was not a church between Boston and Buffalo which wanted to see me. Associations, conferences and presbyteries refused to ordain our young men because they had studied here. Now,” he said, “We are really too popular. The world does not hate us anymore. Our great danger is our popularity.” He continued, “You need not be worried while you find that the world hates you, but if ever the world should come to love you and speak well of you and make your path easy, then,” he said, “you must beware for you are in mortal danger.”

Blanchard paints a vivid word picture of the magisterial preacher:

He was the most remarkable man to look at. Perhaps all great men are…His eyes were deep set, his brows beetling over them. His eyebrows were gray and large, intensifying the effect of the brows themselves. His eyes glowed under excitement and inspiration. He seemed like an old prophet. It was easy to imagine that he resembled Ezekiel. I think in the temper of his mind he did resemble him. Not so much a mourning prophet as Jeremiah, not so much a prophet of the court as Isaiah, rather like Ezekiel who saw visions of eternal things and who saw all temporal things in things in the light of the eternal….President Finney was another of those men who did not confer with flesh and blood. He took his orders from Heaven and I do not think it would have made the slightest difference to him if the rich and wise and powerful of the world could have been gathered in one company to denounce and threaten him. God was so real that the voices of men sounded dim and uncertain in his ears.

Finney’s abiding influence on Wheaton College is also evidenced in the ministry of its fourth president, V. Raymond Edman, who was deeply concerned about revival. In 1951 Edman published Finney Lives On: The Secret of Revival in Our Time, of which Billy Graham remarks, “To read, study and pray over this book is an imperative for every Christian worker in such an hour as this.” Edman summarizes his subject in the epilogue:

Thus was Charles Grandison Finney, the lad who grew up in the backwoods of America without any knowledge of the gospel, the young lawyer who met the Lord Jesus in true penitence and prayer, the man who was devoted to the Scriptures and the Savior, the revivalist whose tireless labors shook America and Britain in decades that were dark with human greed and godlessness, the pastor and college president whose ministry led multitudes to the Master and sent them to the ends of the earth in His glad service, the servent of Christ who still lives in Christian hearts the world over as he thunders to us in his Memoirs, Lectures on Revivals of Religion, and Lectures to Professing Christians. Finney lives on in hearts that need revival. Pray for revival, and learn from him the open secrets of revival.

Charles Blanchard, second president of Wheaton College, recalls in his autobiography (1915) crossing paths with two Presidents of the United States and other notables.

I have never known any of them in an intimate way. They were either before my time or had homes in distant parts of our country, but I have had the privilege of seeing a number of them and I count this also among the privileges of my life. The great Lincoln I saw when I was a boy of ten years. I heard him at that time in the Lincoln-Douglas debate. It has never passed from my mind. I do not suppose it ever will. The tall, angular loose-jointed, benevolent man, rather inexpensively clothed, the short, well-dressed, polished-looking opponent, the seething crowds, the bands of music and the storm of flags! As I remember there were twenty music organizations in the procession that day at Galesburg. The number may have been greater or less, I do not pretend to know. Twenty is the number which remains within my mind. The evident appeal to conscience and humanity in the speeches of the great President and the deft, cunning, clever twisting and turning of his opponent, these came to me even as a child and remained. After he had passed away I met in the White House at a reception General President Grant, who also was a great man of totally different type but one of the real men of our nation and time. I have always thought better of him since I read the story of his own life. He was injured by his friends. He was too loyal to his friends, that is, his loyalty made him true to them when he ought to have placed the country before them. In purpose no doubt he did; he was of Scotch parentage and it is hard for a Scotchman to give up his friend.

Twenty years ago, the Wheaton Alumni magazine began a series of articles, titled “On My Mind”, in which Wheaton faculty told about their thinking, their research, or their favorite books and people. Professor of Old Testament Paul House (who worked at Wheaton from 2001-2004) was featured in the Summer 2002 issue.

When I was a senior in college, I once sat in my favorite professor’s office and thought that it must be a wonderful thing to be a teacher. Like most kids from rural Missouri, I never met a college professor while growing up. Thus, it never occurred to me to think about Christian higher education as a vocation.

By the time I had finished my B.A. at Southwest Baptist College, however, my teachers had instilled in me a sense of the importance of the ministry of instructing others for, as we say at Wheaton, Christ and His Kingdom. Since I entered the teaching life I have not wanted to do anything else, at least not in place of it. Teaching students, writing books, and learning from colleagues continue to confirm what I thought as an undergraduate–the teaching life is a wonderful calling. I think this is especially true because I get to teach the Bible, God’s inerrant written Word.

Teaching the Bible to today’s students is an interesting, sometimes frustrating, task. They often know little beyond the basic Bible stories they learned as children, since biblical content is often left out of youth-group meetings. So students know that they should wait to have sex and should tell others about Jesus, but often little else. The result can be a dangerous division between worship on Sunday or in chapel and decisions made during the rest of the week. Thus, my task is to help them learn the Bible’s contents so they can have some chance of applying the whole of Scripture to their increasingly complex lives. As they learn, many of them grow rapidly. Their Christian worldview blossoms as they apply the Bible to life.

Writing books is one way to teach the Bible to people I will never meet in person. I am not alone in this conviction. Think of how many readers Scott Hafemann, John Walton, Andrew Hill, and my other colleagues have helped understand the Bible. For that matter, consider how many people beyond the Wheaton College community have learned about history from Mark Noll, Kathryn Long, and Edith Blumhofer. Or how many readers know more about literature because of Leland Ryken’s books. Writing is teaching; it is not just a way of getting promoted or becoming famous, or infamous for that matter.

Learning from colleagues is a great benefit of the teaching life. Through the years I have not only learned more about the Bible from other teachers, I have also absorbed knowledge about literature, history, current events, music, and athletics. Sadly, I fear that no matter how hard anyone tries, my brain rejects scientific knowledge. Despite my deficiencies, being taught by other teachers is a marvelous experience that helps me integrate the Bible more fully into the lives of my students.

I recommend the teaching life to young people all the time. I also recommend that donors and prayer warriors do all they can to support it. The teaching life is one committed to helping people learn what matters and how to act accordingly. More importantly, at Wheaton it is a life committed to the Lord, the sufficiency of His Word, and the growth of His people.

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Paul R. House is a graduate of Southwest Baptist College (B.A.), the University of Missouri (M.A.), and the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary (M.Div. and Ph.D.). He has been a professor of divinity at Beeson Divinity School since 2004 and served for six years as associate dean. Previously, he taught at Taylor University, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Trinity Episcopal School for Ministry, and Wheaton College. Dr. House is the author or editor of 15 books, including The Unity of the Twelve, Old Testament Survey, Old Testament Theology, and Lamentations. He has been pastor of churches in Missouri, Indiana and Kentucky. He and his wife, Heather, have one adult daughter.

On the last day of March 1977 Jerry Hawthorne wrote from Cambridge, England to his colleague Gil Bilezikian. Hawthorne was abroad studying and wanted to alert him to a book by Howard Kee he had just finished reading. He wanted to be sure that Bilezikian was aware if he needed to include it in the book he was writing, later published as The liberated Gospel : a comparison of the Gospel of Mark and Greek tragedy. Hawthorne noted that Kee surveyed the literary antecedents of Mark, notably “Mark as ‘Greek Tregedy,’ Mark as ‘Comedy,’ etc.”

What is most notable about this brief postcard is Hawthorne’s description of Cambridge, which he said “is a wonderful place to retreat for quiet study–reading + research.” He spoke of going “into the bowels of the University library” and being taken beyond vaulted doors to be shown Codex D, the Bezae codex. He wrote to Bilezikian that seeing this 5th century vellum codex was “Priceless.” That postcard, shown here, is of the “famous reading from Luke 6:5 about the man working on the Sabbath.” He finished with an affectionate closing, “Love to you + all at Wheaton.”

Little did Hawthorne know in 1977 that a home near Tyndale College, Cambridge would bear his name. In 1994 the warden of Tyndale House notified the college of the availability of a home within walking distance to Tyndale. It became clear to the college leaders that Tyndale desired Wheaton to acquire the home. Donors were approached and Wheaton purchased the home. President Duane Liftin recounted at the time that “a lot of people said, ‘I think this is a great idea.” The donor wished to express his affection for Hawthorne and name the four-bedroom house after Dr. Gerald Hawthorne, professor of Greek at Wheaton for over 40 years. Through this gift Wheaton’s faculty members on sabbatical can travel to Cambridge and have full access to the facilities of Tyndale House and the libraries of Cambridge University. Having used Tyndale’s library as an Oxford student, Litfin recalled that “there’s nothing like it. It’s the crossroads of the whole world when it comes to studies.”

Chicago’s distinctive personality is a complex amalgamation of revolutionary architecture, excellent food, famous streets and most importantly, its multitudinous colorful citizens, wise-cracking and hardworking. For decades the man who most perfectly captured the spirit of the Windy City, serving as its most loyal ambassador, was Louis “Studs” Terkel. A graduate of the University of Chicago and the Chicago Law School, he acted on stage and radio and wrote scripts for WGN, among many other jobs. Forever curious, he hosted his own radio show on WFMT, enthusiastically interviewing scores of fascinating writers, actors and politicians, signing off with his signature, “Take it easy, but take it.” He acquired his nickname from James T. Farrell’s trilogy, Studs Lonigan, about a Southside Irish family struggling during the Depression.

Terkel was probably best known for conducting oral interviews, collected as transcripts in a series of books. Division Street: America (1966) explores urban conflicts of the 1960s. The Good War: An Oral History of World War II won the 1985 Pulitzer Prize for nonfiction. His autobiographical writings are contained in three volumes, Talking to Myself: A Memoir of My Times, (1977), Touch and Go (2007), and P.S.: Further Thoughts From a Lifetime of Listening (2008).

Visible in Chicago and nationally, Terkel was widely connected with many prominent figures, so it is not surprising that he knew Dr. Clyde Kilby, professor of English at Wheaton College and founder of the Marion E. Wade Center, housing the manuscripts of C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien and five additional British writers. What is somewhat surprising is an inscription Terkel wrote for Kilby and his wife, Martha, in the front flyleaf of American Dreams: Lost & Found (1980):

For Clyde and Martha Kilby — How, with such delight, I remember our meeting — your godlike simplicity — but mostly your effect on Nell’s life — and helping her become the wondrous human she is. With a great deal of respect and affection, Studs Terkel.

According to Terkel’s close friend, film critic Roger Ebert, the indefatigable journalist was “a contented, not an outspoken, atheist.” Considering that, it is intriguing that Terkel recognizes and commends the Kilbys for their “godlike simplicity.” Though the full story behind the inscription is unknown to the Archives, it is fully appropriate that two men who collected stories and relished good storytelling intersected with such intensity, however briefly.

Studs Terkel died at 96 in 2008.

Twenty years ago, the Wheaton Alumni magazine began a series of articles, titled “On My Mind”, in which Wheaton faculty told about their thinking, their research, or their favorite books and people. Franklin S. Dyrness Professor Emeritus of Biblical Studies C. Hassell Bullock (who worked at Wheaton from 1973-2009) was featured in the Spring 2001 issue.

I have sometimes pondered the question, “Is it possible for a society to commit the sin against the Holy Spirit?” Obviously, Jesus, in Matthew 12, spoke about individuals who had turned the moral code upside down–good was evil, and evil was good. Isaiah too described that state of moral depravity:”Woe to those who call evil good and good evil” (Isa. 5:20).This is what the sin against the Holy Spirit means. John Milton summed it up well in Satan’s apostrophe,”Evil be thou my Good.”

Yet I don’t think believers can commit this sin.They belong to God, and Jesus assured us, “I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish, and no one shall snatch them out of my hand” (John 10:28).Then why should believers be concerned about this warning at all? Perhaps the answer is that we can become accomplices in the process of moral decline.We can, by our own indifference to the issue of right and wrong, abet our society in its trek toward moral inversion. In the debate over our current attorney general’s confirmation, one opposing senator referred to abortion and homosexual rights and called them “fundamental values.” “Rights” have become “values.”The moral battle is being waged in the church too. Despite the mounds of exegesis that favor moral clarity, the claim is that we should be neutral on certain moral issues. If Satan can first get us to become neutral or indifferent on morality, then he has made us accomplices in progress toward the reversal of moral standards.

Jesus warned the religious leaders of His day that, if they continued to see the work of God and persisted on calling it evil, their hearts would fossilize in that state of thinking.They would see evil and think it good, and good, and think it evil.Their moral code would turn upside down, and they would become incapable of repentance and thus of forgiveness.

The final goal of our moral journey is not neutrality about right and wrong. Even when we insist that one has the right to determine one’s own moral standards, we become a catalyst in the movement toward moral inversion.Then there are no standards of the whole, no absolutes by which our actions and attitudes can be reckoned right or wrong. Everyone has become a law to oneself.This is happening with homosexuality, and there are signs that some are determined to put pedophilia in the same category.

As Christians, in our attitude toward sin we are either accomplices or members of the opposition.There is no neutrality. Some of us need not only to repent of the sins we have committed, but we need to repent of our neutrality to sin.We need God to renew in us a sense of righteous indignation as well as compassion about the sinful world we live in. C. S. Lewis said that an absence of righteous indignation might be one of the alarming symptoms of a society that is losing its moral moorings. Can a society commit the sin against the Holy Spirit? Broadly speaking, I believe it can.That’s what happened to Canaanite society whose sexual perversion rendered it irredeemable. God help us not to be an accomplice in the progress of our cultural journey toward moral inversion, where good is evil and evil is good.

Since its origin in 1855-60, the word “prexy,” representing a shortened term for “president,” was invoked for decades by students on American college campuses as a term of endearment for their administrative leader. At Wheaton College the term was applied to presidents Charles Blanchard, J. Oliver Buswell and, most familiarly, V. Raymond Edman. While visiting campus for reunions, generations of older Wheaton College alumni happily swap stories, often casually referring to the piety and dedication of their beloved prexy, not needing to explain his identity. Interestingly, “prexy” is not applied to subsequent presidents Hudson Armerding, Richard Chase, Duane Litfin or Philip Ryken, perhaps because it has simply fallen out of style.