William Miller was born on February 15, 1782, and spent most of his early life in a place called Low Hampshire, which they put in the State of New York for some reason. He was mostly what we would call “homeschooled” today, and there is no evidence that he ever attended any colleges or received any formal training of any kind after that.
In 1803, he married a fine girl, Lucy Smith, and his new family relocated to Poultney, Vermont. Soon, he would be elected to his first public office – Constable. Then he became a deputy sheriff before ultimately becoming a Justice of the Peace.
During all this time, he had also lost his faith. Being raised as a Baptist, Miller now aligned himself with the deist movement of the time. Many of the more prominent members of the Poultney society were Deists, and he considered them to be good, upstanding men. So, he stopped reading the bible and turned instead to the likes of Voltaire, Hume, Thomas Paine, and Ethan Allen (which I thought was a furniture store, but I guess not. Or, is it?)
After The War of 1812 broke out (whichever year that was, again) Miller joined the armed services (similar to what his father had done when he was around that age) and became a part of the 30th Infantry Regiment. He experienced the horrors of war for himself at the Battle of Pittsburg where the fort he was stationed at was so outnumbered by enemy combatants that he thought it was a miracle that he not only survived but won the battle.
This was probably the start of his mind shifting from deism back to theism. When he left the army, he and his wife relocated back to Low Hampshire (which is still in New York for some reason). While he was here, he tried his hardest to meld his deist beliefs with his Baptist upbringing, examining the bible as closely as he could. In a way, in doing so he created his own “religion” which we call Millerism today.
There was, however, one part of the bible that he became absolutely fascinated with – Armageddon.
He managed to convince himself that if it hadn’t already started – it was about to.
By 1840, Millerism had gone from a small, local congregation into a nationwide spiritual movement. And there was one city that the Millerites seemed to have their eyes on more than any other: Cincinnati.
The Millerites began worshipping at a hall in Cincinnati College located at Fourth and Walnut, but considering their teachings went pretty far beyond what was religiously acceptable by most other congregations at the time, they were forced out had to build their own temple at Seventh and John Streets.
The End – First Try
From his home base in New York, Miller pronounced that according to his calculations, the end of the world would occur on March 21, 1844. When that day came, thousands descended upon the Millerite Tabernacle, doing whatever it was the Millerites did in their places of worship. Afternoon turned to evening, but nothing happened. Still, the congregation was hopeful, certain that Miller’s prediction was about to come true. Evening turned to night, and eventually everyone just went home and went to bed.
The End – Second Try
Miller was a bit perturbed that the end of the world didn’t happen, so he examined all his sources, redid all his calculations and discovered that he had made an error. The end wasn’t going to be on March 21, but on October 22nd.
The Millerite leaders in Cincinnati spoke about this new end date with such conviction and passion (not to mention a fairly strong smell of fire and brimstone) that his congregation kept getting larger and larger.
Toward the end of October, many people began to act as if the world was about to come to an end. Some quit their jobs to spend their last remaining days on earth having as much fun (or, as much fun as the church would allow). Legend has it that a few people sent notes to school with their children saying that if the world should come to an end, please look after Little Johnny. One man sold his very profitable riverboat for way less than it’s value because he didn’t think he would need it anymore.
Finally, the day arrived and as morning rolled in, people started showing up at the church. Once a sizeable crowd had gathered, an estimated thousand people left the church heading North on John Street. At the end of the road, they climbed the hill (near what we call Fairview Park today). Any moment now, Armageddon was going to start. They weren’t entirely sure what they were about to see, but they knew that whatever happened, they’d get a good view from way up there.
By the time Evening got there, the mass of people at the hilltop had continued to grow, as did the number of people at the Millerite Tabernacle. They wanted to watch as the skies opened up, as predicted in the Bible … they wanted to see rivers of flames begin to decimate the city … they wanted to ascend into the heavens to see what awaited them there.
But, none of that happened.
By nightfall, the congregations started giving up, the last ones leaving as the morning sun made it’s appearance over the horizon.
The following morning, a group of the more faithful congregated, again, at the top of the hill (now Fairview Park) still believing that the end of the world was going to happen any second now. But, when it got to mid-day, people started to give up hope and slowly the crowd started to dwindle.
The End – Third Time’s The Charm, Right?
Back in New York, William Miller was confused. Once again, he started going back over all his calculations, trying to spot any errors in his methods. He released a statement acknowledging that his predictions were a bit off and taking full responsibility for all that had (or had not) occurred. Yet, he promised, he knew that the end of the world was right around the corner.
As he set about trying to determine the correct date (yet again) most of his followers weren’t exactly happy anymore. So many of them had quit their jobs or sold their businesses and were now on the verge of being completely destitute, not that the church was in a position to help them very much. Others had sold their houses, leaving them no place to go. Apparently, people burned a lot of figurative bridges thinking they’d be rubbing elbows with Jesus by now, so when they weren’t – they’d lost all faith.
At least, they lost faith in William Miller.
When William Miller tried again about a month later, his congregations had gone from being in the thousands but were now just a handful. In Cincinnati, six people gathered on the top of the hill to watch for signs of Armageddon, only for nothing to happen, yet again.
But, this time, William Miller seemed to have an answer (if there was anyone left around listening to him).
See, this time it wasn’t a physical Armageddon, with horns blasting and rivers of fire and miracles happening … No, this was actually a “Spiritual Armageddon” … God’s way of cleaning up the earth a little bit before his son comes to visit …
The End – Just Not That One
The second failed Armageddon prediction signaled the end of the Millerite way, yet many people still weren’t ready (or willing) to completely give up on his teachings. By 1845, nearly all the Millerite churches had all but died away, the once thriving spiritual movement now relegated to smaller interest groups.
In just a few years, several new traditions would emerge, taking the Millerite teachings in slightly new directions. Both the Seventh Day Adventist and Christian Adventist churches would ultimately rise out of the Millerite ashes, as others would leave the church completely for the Jehovah’s Witness groups that were starting to form.
Many of these churches still exist today. I just don’t have the heart to call them up and ask if they’re still waiting for Armageddon.
