/ 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.