Category Archives: Wheaton College Archives

The Grass is always greener – Sesquicentennial Snapshot

In his memoirs The Wheaton I Remember, Edward “Coach” Coray (Professor Emeritus and former Executive Director of the Alumni Association) recalls his days as an undergraduate student at Wheaton in the 1920s. He reminisces about his early athletic endeavors and attempts to locate the advertised athletic fields.

Intercollegiate athletics at Wheaton were always fun and in the late teens and early twenties were carried on without the equipment, facilities, or coaching staffs of later years. I lined up for football equipment in my freshman year. By the time my turn came there were only two shoes left, both for the left foot. But they were real football shoes, so I took them gladly and made the best of it. The way I have often told the story, whenever I got in a game I told the quarterback to run all the plays to the left as I couldn’t turn my feet to the right. This isn’t altogether true, however, as I didn’t get into a game my freshman year. Besides shoes I received stockings, pants, and a jersey. Helmets and shoulder pads, if desired, had to be purchased by the individual. Coming from the coal fields of Pennsylvania, I thought I was tough enough to get along without a helmet. After I got a few indentations in the top of my head from cleats, I rounded up enough money for a cheap helmet.

The first day I hit campus I had inquired where the athletic field was. The college catalog had described it as having a football gridiron and a baseball diamond surrounded by a quarter mile track with a 220 yard straightaway. I was directed out Irving Avenue. After walking a few blocks I passed a hayfield with a cow grazing on it. I never did find the athletic field as described in the catalog. I found out later that Lawson Athletic Field and the hayfield were one and the same. The day before football practice started a farmer was hired to mow the grass. The stubble we practiced and played football on was sharper and tougher than the stones and hunks of coal on our high school field back in Pennsylvania.

Highway to Heaven – Sesquicentennial snapshot

One of my most memorable experiences of the power of our Lord’s prayer [in John 17] happened on a county road in Colorado. Olena Mae and I seldom pick up hitchhikers. We’ve heard too many sad reports of strangers doing harm. But like many rules, we sometimes make exceptions. The night before we had finished an intensive Bible conference at Winding River Ranch near Grand Lake. It had been a good week, a full one, and we were both anxious to be on our way for a few days of vacation. We left a little later than planned, but at last we were rolling down the highway–just at the right moment to spot a man thumbing a ride. He was in his middle years, clean shaven, wearing tattered jeans and carrying only a brown paper sack. Both of us felt we should stop, so I pulled the car over and invited him to ride with us. Olena Mae slid over to make room.

“What is your name, sir?” I asked, “and where are you from?” Without hesitating, the stranger answered, “I’m Orville Pratt, from Carmel, Indiana, near Indianapolis.” “Do you have a family?” “Oh yes, a wife and two married children. My son lives in Indianapolis, and my daughter in Wheaton, Illinois.” “Wheaton! Did you say Wheaton?” “Yes,” the man continued. “Her name is Mary Wilson, just north of Wheaton in Carol Stream.” We were amazed to find our hometown mentioned by this traveler in Colorado. “But where are you headed?” I asked him. “Can’t tell you, ’cause I don’t know myself,” Orville answered. “Maybe Steamboat Springs, maybe Australia.” Our curiosity obviously aroused, we pressed for more of his story. “Does your family know about this?” I asked. “No. I walked off my job last week and didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I’m part owner of a manufacturing business. We make outdoor tool sheds. It’s a good business. . . ,” he said, and his voice trailed off. Olena Mae and I sat quietly for a moment. Gently I proceeded. “Do you have a church home in Carmel?” “I did. A good church, too. I’ve been a deacon and an elder there–but I’m not fit to go to church anymore.” With care I ventured, “Why do you say that?”

“My daughter Mary lost her boy, a four-year-old lad. I loved him. He had a heart problem, and the specialist made a mistake. I cannot forgive that doctor, so I’m in no condition to go to church any more. It’s too much, I can’t face it.” Our hitchhiker friend was crying now. I assured him of our deep concern and more important, of God’s great love for him. We urged him to return to his wife and home, but Orville chose to get out of the car when we turned south for the Redstone Inn. We left him there–a lonely, heartbroken man–thumbing for another ride west. Our drive to the Inn was filled with prayer. Within minutes of our arrival, Olena Mae was on the phone. “You don’t know me,” she told the voice on the other end, “but my husband and I are traveling in Colorado. Earlier this afternoon we picked up your father… “Yes, yes, I know,” Mary Wilson interrupted. “He called an hour ago. He’s coming home!” Not long after we returned to Wheaton, Orville called to thank us for our simple advice and reminders of God’s care. He wanted us to visit him, and since I was to speak in Indianapolis at an alumni chapter in the next few weeks, we arranged to spend an evening in the Pratt home. They welcomed us warmly. The next morning, a Sunday, the four of us attended their church, a warm, evangelical fellowship. After church and a delightful dinner together, Orville and I went to the cemetery where his little grandson was buried. I prayed there for Orville and his loved one, and assured him of the promised resurrection and reunion. God was there with arms around us. Later, back at his home, we all thanked God that our paths had crossed on that Colorado highway. A chance meeting? “Holy Father,” Jesus prayed, “keep through thine own name those whom thou hast given me, that they may be one, as we are.” Excerpt from Evan Welsh, first chaplain of Wheaton College, A Touch of Heaven Here (Tyndale: Wheaton), 1985.

The Fourway Test

One of the most influential philanthropists of Evangelicalism in the mid-twentieth century was Herbert J. Taylor. Taylor, born in in Pickford, Michigan in 1893, had been educated at Northwestern University and began a career in business, initially in Oklahoma. After a time in the Navy during World War I Taylor began working for Jewel Tea Company (later Jewel Food Stores), eventually becoming an executive in the company. In 1933 Taylor was “loaned” to Club Aluminum Products, a door-to-door kitchen products sales company which was started in the early 1900s, when the company went into bankruptcy. Upon taking over Club Aluminum Taylor found that the business practices at the company were not above reproach and sought a way to turn the company around financially and ethically. While at Club Aluminum Taylor created a simple ethical code that became known as The Four Way Test. The test consisted of four short questions:

  • Is it the truth?
  • Is it fair to all concerned?
  • Will it build goodwill and better friendships?
  • Will it be beneficial to all concerned?

This code, created in 1932, established a common working environment for Club Aluminum and helped make the company profitable, trustworthy and strong. Herbert J. TaylorWithin several years the company was out of debt and became a multi-million dollar company.

During this time Taylor was a member of the Chicago Rotary Club and eventually became president of the club. And in 1944 he was selected International Director of Rotary. It was then that he offered the test to Rotary. The organization adopted The Four Way Test and has promoted it around the world to encourage an ethical life. It remains a central part of The Rotary despite some who criticized Taylor’s (and Rotary’s) creation of an official “moral code.” Some struggling with the objectification of “truth” and seeking to promote truth’s subjectivity.

From the profits of Club Aluminum Taylor founded the Christian Workers Foundation (CWF) in 1939 and it has helped fund a number of evangelical Christian organizations. Taylor was personally interested in youth work and served on the boards of several youth-oriented organizations like InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, Youth for Christ, Young Life, Child Evangelism Fellowship, Christian Service Brigade and Pioneer Girls. The Christian Workers Foundation continues Taylor’s interests through financial support to many of these organizations.

Herbert Taylor died in 1978. It is said that when the American National Business Hall of Fame wished to honor Taylor a few years after his death they contacted the owners of Club Aluminum to find out information about Taylor. A spokesperson for the company had no knowledge of Taylor.

Blanchard Hall’s “Dugout” – Sesquicentennial Snapshot

In his memoirs The Wheaton I Remember, Edward “Coach” Coray (Professor Emeritus and former Executive Director of the Alumni Association) recalls his days as an undergraduate student at Wheaton in 1920s. Using a sports metaphor to recall a space full of active young men, Coray recalled a “dugout” from his past.

Blanchard 4th-floor residents, 1939-1940

“While I never roomed on the fourth floor of Blanchard Hall I have heard many stories of experiences of people associated with this historic area. I never really determined if the fourth floor attracted the kind of fellows it did or if there was something about the atmosphere of the place that made them that way. In any case fourth floor monitors, or whatever they were called, came and went quite rapidly. I think I should slip in here that some of our finest graduates are alumni of the fourth floor. Getting back to monitors, one bachelor professor got out of the job when he got married. It cannot be definitely proved that he got married in order to get out of the job. A young, scholarly graduate assistant got an unexpected shower bath, fully clothed. Even Del Nelson, a rugged athlete who served as “housemother” while coaching athletics, had some problems. Del is now Dr. Delburt Nelson, M.D., and a college trustee. I presume much of his success in life is due to his experiences handling inhabitants of the fourth floor. One night he was chasing a fellow who had shot off a big cannon fire cracker. The fellow tried to escape through an attic with an unfinished floor over the library on the floor below. Del was in hot pursuit. The boy’s foot slipped onto bare plaster and his whole leg came down through the library ceiling, scattering pieces of plaster over one of the tables. With the increase of dormitory facilities and the need for more office and classroom space, the fourth floor was closed as a resident hall. Alumni returning to campus still wander around the “Floor” pointing out where they and their friends roomed and swallowing lumps which come in their throats.”


Thiessen and Determinism’s cold and chilling effects

It is said that an institution is the lengthened shadow of a man. In a very real sense Dr. Thiessen, the first dean of our graduate school, left an indelible impression upon it…Though dead he yet speaketh. His influence continues through his writings and through the lives which he trained for God’s glad service.

So stated Dr. Enock Dyrness, Wheaton College registrar, eulogizing Dr. Henry Clarence Thiessen.

Henry C. ThiessenBorn in 1883 in rural Nebraska, Thiessen accepted Christ at 17 and grew steadily in the scriptures as he also proclaimed the gospel to his friends. Thirsting for deeper scriptural knowledge, he entered the Bible Training School in Ft. Wayne, Indiana. After graduating he pastored for seven years in Ohio before accepting a call to teach full-time at the Bible Training School, where he also functioned as principal. Seeking further education, he entered Northern Baptist Theological Seminary, teaching part-time to pay expenses. From there he enrolled at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, then moved to Southern Baptist Theological Seminary for graduate studies, majoring in New Testament Greek. From there he served as Dean of the College of Theology at Evangel College in New Jersey. In 1931 Thiessen was hired by Dallas Theological Seminary, instructing New Testament Literature and Exegesis. He taught with distinction until 1935, when invited by Dr. J. Oliver Buswell to join the Wheaton College faculty. Responding with a letter to Buswell, Thiessen recounts his own impressive academic qualifications and that “…there may be a way of realizing my ideal at Wheaton College.” Specifically, this meant an ambition to establish “…a first class theological school of the fundamentalist and premillennial type in the North…” Once hired he started as Professor of Bible and Philosophy; a year later Buswell appointed him Chairman of the Bible and Theology Department. At this time, John Dickey, friend of the college, died, leaving an inheritance to be used expressly for instituting an advanced theological program within six months of his demise. As a result of this gift, Wheaton offered in 1937 its first graduate courses, headed by Thiessen. As the curriculum solidified and expanded, he chose Dr. Merrill Tenney as his associate.

Gordon H. ClarkThiessen was a popular but demanding instructor, firmly committed to dispensationalism. Sadly, this brought him into conflict with Dr. Gordon H. Clark, professor of philosophy and equally committed to Covenant theology. Wary of Clark’s “determinism,” Thiessen warned Buswell that his influence “…will do great, perhaps permanent, harm to many of the youngsters, because few of them are able to reply to his reasoning…” When V. Raymond Edman replaced Buswell as president in 1940, he followed Thiessen’s lead and took steps to dismiss Clark, first eliminating the philosophy major, then prohibiting Clark from teaching Reformed doctrine. Though Clark was tempted to leave, Buswell privately advised him to stay put. Edman then met with faculty and trustees to discuss Clark’s Calvinism and its “…chilling and harmful effect upon many students.”

Clark was a supremely capable teacher of unquestioned piety, much-respected by his students, including young Ruth Bell (Graham) who, awash with the over-gushy pietism prevalent during those years, sought his refreshing “logic” and “…his unemotional brilliance…” Faced with intensifying hostility from the administration, Clark finally negotiated a technical resignation in 1942, moving on to a successful career at Butler University. After his firing, Edman reinstated the philosophy major but hired no trained philosophers to teach it, instead opting for theology professors to lead the course until Dr. Arthur Holmes revived the program in 1957.

Thiessen with studentsThough the dispensationalists prevailed, they did not necessarily represent the position of all students or faculty. “Thiessenism,” wrote one, “is the only creed of Wheaton’s Bible Department…but a bitterly dogmatic and autocratic one…It’s agree with and memorize what Thiessen and his satellites say – or flunk…Of course, Dr. Clark isn’t the epitome of broad-mindedness – but he is [the epitome] of gentlemanly consideration…I’ve never found him forcing his views on anyone.” Premillennial dispensationalism remained Wheaton’s unofficial eschatological statement for the remainder of Edman’s tenure.

Thiessen continued teaching at Wheaton College until debilitated by asthma, which allowed him only an hour or two of sleep each night. Advised by doctors to seek a warmer climate, he accepted in 1946 an invitation to serve as president and dean of Los Angeles Baptist Seminary, placing Wheaton’s Bible Department in Merrill Tenney’s capable hands. Thiessen preached his farewell sermon, titled “Facing the Future with Christ,” at Wheaton Bible Church. After moving to California his condition worsened as he endured numerous nasal operations, and on July 25, 1947, he died. His widow, Anna, requested that Thiessen’s brother complete and publish his classroom syllabus. Lectures in Systematic Theology, in print since 1949, steadfastly advances Dr. H.C. Thiessen’s hope that it might “…set forth the truth more clearly and logically, and that the Triune God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit will be glorified through its perusal.”

(Information regarding the Thiessen/Clark controversy is obtained from The Fundmentalist Harvard: Wheaton College and the Enduring Vitality of American Evangelicalism, 1919-1965 by Michael S. Hamilton and Clark: Personal Recollections by John W. Robbins.)

Lighting the Spark – Sesquicentennial snapshot

“The idea of having a college in Wheaton was born in the minds of the Wesleyan Methodists of Illinois. Back in 1836 in Cincinnati, the Methodist General Conference passed the following resolution:

Resolved, By the delegates of the annual conferences in General Conference assembled: that they are decidedly opposed to modern abolitionism and wholly disclaim any right, wish, or intention to interfere in the civil and political relation between master and slave as it exists in the slave-holding states of this country.

Out of this resolution was born the Wesleyan Methodist Church, to whom slavery and the use of intoxicating liquors were anathema. A large number of Wesleyan Methodists settled in Wheaton, where anti-slavery sentiments were shared by many other citizens of the growing community.

In 1850 the Illinois Wesleyan Methodists decided to establish an anti-slavery school of their own. Too many of their young people had attended colleges where members of the faculty were either pro-slavery or indifferent to the issue. Wheaton was selected as a site because of its proximity to Chicago and because of the generous offers of its citizens to support such an educational experiment. Among those early devotees to the cause of Christian education were Warren L. Wheaton and his brother Jesse.

Nearly a mile from the Wheaton railroad station a pleasant site was selected, and land was bought for $150.00 from John C. Howard (some records indicate Gaius Howard). Although some maintain that Mr. Howard donated the land, records reveal that the original site of the College was purchased from him. There, on the crest of a small hill which overlooked the rolling prairie, preparations for the erection of a building were begun, when on a sweltering day in the summer of 1852 a group of devout Christians knelt in the tall prairie grass at the summit and dedicated ‘the hill and all that should be upon it to that God in whom trusting they had boldly gone into the thickest fight, not only for the freedom of human bodies, but of human souls as well,’ The new school was called Illinois Institute.”

Willard, W. Wyeth. Fire on the Prairie: The Story of Wheaton College. Van Kampen Press (Wheaton, IL). 1950. pp.20-21

Trust in God and do the right…

M. R. DeHaanA profoundly useful agent for disseminating scriptural principles during the middle years of the twentieth century was Radio Bible Class (RBC), founded and hosted by Dr. M.R. DeHaan. Quitting his Reformed Church pastorate in 1938 for health and theological reasons, DeHaan also resigned his medical practice to preach the Word of God over the airwaves, residing with his family first in Detroit, Michigan, then in Grand Rapids. The broadcasts were often transcribed and published as books, with several Bible commentaries still in print.

DeHaan’s second son, Richard, accepted Christ when he was about ten, the result of a dedicated Sunday School teacher. As a young man he received substantial biblical education, first at his father’s knee, then at Calvin College before transferring to Wheaton College to finish his undergraduate degree, and finally to Northern Baptist Theological Seminary for graduate studies. During his Wheaton days, the 1944 Tower yearbook describes a glimpse of his social activity in an off-campus dormitory called the House of Baa: “Upperclassman Dick DeHaan was an aggressive one-man debate team in bull sessions. Starting out slowly, he wound up the ‘fastest’ man in the house.”

Richard DeHaanAfter Dr. DeHaan suffered a heart attack in 1946, Richard accepted increased administrative responsibilities at the radio station, taking the microphone from time to time with a voice, “…deep and mellow and mild,” as his mother observed. When his father died in 1965, Richard smoothly assumed the presidency of Radio Bible Class. Its continued success on radio compelled him and his colleagues to expand the ministry to television. So in 1968 Day of Discovery aired, ranking for years among the top ten religious broadcasts. Additionally he published a series of pamphlets, first appearing as articles in the Our Daily Bread devotional, focusing on the Christian life and end-times issues, all written with characteristic clarity and analytical insight. Indeed, Dr. Lehman Strauss, renowned Bible teacher, praises DeHaan’s 1968 book, Israel and the Nations in Prophecy, for its “…sound and sane presentation of numerous prophetic scriptures.”

Dr. Richard W. DeHaan died in 2002, after a long battle with Parkinson’s disease. Ever the encourager, his favorite expression was, “Trust in God and do the right.” Richard’s son, Mart, continues RBC Ministires, as it is now called, reflecting its worldwide range of resources.

Echoes from the Past – Sesquicentennial Snapshot

In her article “Echoes of the Past” in the The Wheaton Alumni News, Julia E. Blanchard, class of 1899 and Jonathan Blanchard’s granddaughter, retold one of the many stories she heard her grandfather tell of his past.

Julia E. BlanchardGrandfather says in speaking of his early life, “I now think the Holy Spirit influenced me from my early childhood.” He was not four years old when he first heard the firing of the guns in the battle of Plattsburgh. It filled him with horror to know that men would kill each other. He was a man of strong passions, which were ever stirred most fiercely by oppression, cruelty, or anything which destroyed human life or welfare. Always a great lover of God, his great passion was to seek the God like in man. We children always teased for stories about the poor, black folk, whom they sheltered in their Cincinnati home, the thrilling episodes of the anti-Masonic meetings, which were broken up by angry Masons, armed with bricks, rotten eggs, and so forth. We especially loved to hear about the time they tried to throw him into the Ohio River. It was grandfather’s fierce hatred of the great secret empire, which threatened the very life of the nation, that led him to Wheaton, the smallest, poorest and least promising of the places offered him when he left Knox College; but near Chicago “the Gate City between the Atlantic and Pacific; between western Europe and eastern Asia” — a strategic location for a college whose motto is “For Christ and His Kingdom.”

Keep off the Grass – Sesquicentennial Snapsot

In his memoirs The Wheaton I Remember, Edward “Coach” Coray (Professor Emeritus and former Executive Director of the Alumni Association) recalls his days as an undergraduate student at Wheaton in 1920.

Charles Blanchard, Cedar Lake, Indiana (1923)Dr. Blanchard had his own way of handling discipline and I must say it was effective, In the spring of my freshman year he told us in chapel that we all wanted to have the campus looking nice for commencement. He said one way to make this possible was to keep off the growing grass. He asked us to be sure to keep on the regular walks. The next morning I overslept a little. I must have studied late the night before. To make up a few seconds on the way to my 8:00 o’clock class I was cutting across campus from the corner of Washington and Seminary Streets. As I approached the main building, to my horror I saw President Blanchard on his way out to meet me. From his office window in the southwest wing he had seen me running on the grass. With a big smile he put out his hand and said, “You are my friend from the coal regions of Pennsylvania.” He had an unusual memory for where people came from better than remembering their names. He asked for it and I gave him my name — incidentally my right name. We shook hands. He said, “I came out to ask you something. If you should encourage all your friends to keep off the campus grass and I should do the same thing, do you think it would help?” I said, “Yes, President, I think it would.” He said, “Will you do this?” I said, “Yes, President, I’ll be glad to.” With a big smile he said, “Thank you so much. Now hurry along to class. The Lord bless you and give you a good day.” I didn’t walk on the campus grass again.

Jack Hyles and Wheaton College

Willowcreek Community ChurchChicago and its suburbs host an array of influential “megachurch” campuses, each comprising congregations of several thousand members. Willow Creek, Harvest Bible Chapel, Christ Community and others, attempting to attract unbelieving seekers and disenfranchised Christians, typically eschew in their services the elements of “old-fashioned” worship such as hymns, pews and traditional architecture, instead using praise bands, humorous skits and theater-style seating. A lesser-known megachurch, at least among Evangelicals, is First Baptist Church of Hammond, Indiana, located in the northwest corner of the state. Contrary to megachurch methodology, First Baptist doggedly maintains an adherence to revivalistic evangelism, the singing of gospel songs and an unwavering insistence on the King James Bible as superior to all successive translations.

Founded in 1887 by Allen Hill, First Baptist grew steadily under a series of dedicated pastors, each contributing a unique strength. Notable among them was Dr. J.M. Horton, who served for fourteen years until resigning to lead the Indiana Baptist Convention. After Horton came Dr. T. Leonard Lewis, graduate of Wheaton College and Moody Bible Institute, who served for three years until resigning to assume the presidency of Gordon College in Boston. Then in 1944 came Dr. Russell Purdy, recommended to First Baptist by Dr. Will Houghton, president of Moody Bible Institute, and Dr. Harry Ironside, pastor of Moody Memorial Church. Purdy’s 1947 departure opened the way for Dr. Owen Miller, a supporter of missions and church plants. Miller served faithfully until 1958, leaving for Riverside, California; and again First Baptist sought a pastor. Several candidates interviewed with the trustees and deacons, but the most intriguing was a young Texas firebrand named Jack Hyles. As Keith McKinney and Gail Merhalski remark in The Old Church Downtown (2001), 100 Largest Sunday Schools“Pastor Hyles’s preaching was different…Most of the guest preachers were serious, staid and stiff in their delivery…The most interesting pulpit supply were faculty members from Wheaton College…to put it mildly, most could not be heard above the occasional cough…Brother Hyles, on the other hand, preached!” Not surprisingly, Hyles was elected. In addition to breathing vigor into First Baptist’s evangelistic efforts, he promptly severed its ties from both Southern and American Baptist conventions, sensing an alarming drift toward ecumenism. Under his leadership First Baptist’s various outreaches dramatically expanded; and in 1973 Christian Life magazine recognized it as conducting one of the “100 Largest Sunday Schools.” With multimillionaire contractor Russell Anderson, Hyles co-founded Hyles-Anderson College in Schererville, Indiana, in 1972.

John R. RiceMinistering widely within Fundamentalist circles, he enjoyed a tight friendship with Dr. John R. Rice, founder and editor of The Sword of the Lord, located in Wheaton, Illinois. In 1960 Rice asked Hyles, who had been serving as assistant editor of the newspaper, to assume the editorship, providing that he resign and move to Wheaton. Hyles, reluctant to surrender his pulpit, declined and resumed his position on the Sword’s board of directors, while Rice in 1963 moved all operations to Murfreesboro, Tennessee.

During the late 1960s Hyles spoke at Moody Founder’s Week in Chicago, Illinois, Rex Humbard’s Cathedral of Tomorrow in Akron, Ohio, and Oswald J. Smith’s People’s Temple in Toronto, Ontario. But as the years progressed, he limited his engagements, cautious of theological compromise.

In this sphere he squarely placed Wheaton College, about which he infrequently but always pointedly referenced in his preaching, as in this 1975 sermon, favorably invoking an older era to illustrate God’s restorative power:

“Right over here in Wheaton, Illinois, the President of Wheaton College, Dr. [Charles] Blanchard, told how a man had died and they had covered him up. His wife got under the sheet that was over his body. She stayed there and said, ‘He’s not going to die!’…He got up and the wife started walking out the door with him. A dead man! The doctor said, ‘Hey, you can’t walk out the door. You’re sick.’ The wife said, ‘No, he’s not sick. He’s dead. Leave us alone!’ They went home. Yes, God can still do it!”

More often, however, Hyles cited Wheaton College as a plum example of how not to administrate a Christian school, as in this 1970 sermon:

“Here is the problem, and here is what is causing these little, immature, teenage pink punks to ruin our country (and they’re letting them do it). The reason they are is because we older people are letting them do it…Let’s take an example – and I’ll just come right out and say it – let’s take over here in Wheaton College. It used to be a wonderful center for the Truth. There was a day when Wheaton College was one of the grandest and greatest colleges in America. No longer is that true…Wheaton College was in our budget when I came eleven years ago to pastor this church. As long as I’m here, it’ll never get in our budget again. Never. You say, ‘I don’t like that!’ Well, you can lump it the best way you can, because I don’t like it either. I am sick and tired of Christian colleges hiding behind last generation’s character, kowtowing to a generation of beatniks and liberals, and acting like them. Listen, if Wheaton College were what it ought to be tonight, let them take a stand on the issues of our day; let them fight and get bloody for the Bible again like they used to.”

He expresses a similar conviction in Fundamentalism in My Lifetime (2002):

“Basically, Bob Jones University was ‘The Wheaton College of the South.’ However, because Wheaton College was much older than Bob Jones University, it changed sooner. Bob Jones University remained fundamental, as nondenominationalists go, later than Wheaton College, because of its age.”

After Dr. Jack Hyles’s death in 2001, his son-in-law, Dr. Jack Schaap, was elected senior pastor. Each week First Baptist Church continues to operate a fleet of buses throughout Chicagoland and northwest Indiana. Matthew Barnett, pastor of Angelus Temple, founded by Aimee Semple McPherson in 1920, cites First Baptist as a model for urban ministry.