The spark
/
Megan Skane: Every
movement begins somewhere.
Often it's not with a grand
event, but with a quiet question.
One man, one moment, and one spark.
Today we begin our journey with a
farmer from New York, an unlikely
preacher whose personal search for truth
ignited one of the largest religious
awakenings in 19th century America.
His name was William Miller.
Born in 1782 in Pittsfield, Massachusetts.
Miller was raised in a Baptist
home, though his faith wouldn't
stay in one place for long.
By the early 18 hundreds, he had embraced
deism, a belief that accepted the idea
of a divine creator, but one who stood at
a distance uninvolved in human affairs.
To Miller, God had made the
world and then stepped back,
leaving it to run its course.
That belief was soon shaken, not in a
church or a book, but on a battlefield.
In 1814, during the war of 1812, Miller
served as a captain in the American Army.
At the Battle of Plattsburgh,
he witnessed what he could only
describe as a miraculous victory.
The odds had been against him.
The outcome seemed impossible,
and yet they survived.
For Miller, this was more
than military success.
It was a spiritual crisis.
If Chance couldn't explain what he'd
seen, maybe God could back home.
The questions wouldn't go away.
So Miller did something radical.
He opened a Bible.
Armed with nothing more than scripture,
a concordance, and a determination
to let the Bible explain itself.
He began to study slowly,
methodically, and prayerfully.
For two years, he combed through
the pages verse by verse, until
one passage seized his attention.
Daniel, eight 14 until 2,300 days.
Then shall the sanctuary be cleansed.
It wasn't just a verse, it was a puzzle.
Using the day year principle, common in
prophetic study and beginning from the
decree to rebuild Jerusalem in 457 BC.
Miller calculated that the
prophecy would reach its
fulfillment around the year 1843.
That date later clarified by others
as October 22nd, 1844 would become
the focus of an entire movement.
But Miller wasn't a prophet.
He never claimed visions or dreams.
In fact, for years, he
resisted the idea of preaching.
It wasn't until 1831, at the age of 49
that he finally agreed to speak publicly.
Driven by inner conviction and
the encouragement of friends.
When he did, the response
was overwhelming.
His message wasn't polished or
theological, but it was rooted in
scripture and that made it powerful.
By the early 1840s, the millwright
movement had spread across the
northeastern United States.
Tens of thousands across many
different denominations were
reading, praying, and preparing.
Not for war or protest or fame,
but for the return of Jesus.
Of course, October 22nd, 1844 came
and went and Jesus did not return.
The disappointment was crushing.
People wept in fields, in
churches, public, and in silence.
Some walked away from faith
entirely, but not all.
A small group unwilling to let go of
their hope or abandon their study.
Went back to the scriptures.
They asked new questions, read
more deeply, and began to see the
cleansing of the sanctuary, not as an
earthly event, but as a heavenly one.
This study laid the foundation for what
would become the seventh, a Adventist
church formerly established in 1863.
William Miller never joined that church.
He died in 1849, never knowing the full
extent of what his spark would become.
But what he began changed the
course of history, and that's
the heart of this story.
It wasn't about perfect
theology or perfect timing.
It was about a man with a Bible,
a question, and the willingness
to follow truth wherever it led.
And that's how movements start.
Not with certainty, but with sincerity.
So today, as we open this first chapter,
we remember William Miller, not just
for his message, but for his method.
Because sometimes the greatest
revival begins not with an answer,
but with the courage to ask.
Episode one, the Spark
read by Megan Scheme.
