When I was a young man, an evangelist by the name of David Miller would come to preach at our church every year. It was during those years that I became familiar with his preaching ministry. Over time, I would learn more about him, his disability, and as a student at The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, I would learn of his influence on the conservative resurgence of the Southern Baptist Convention.
Words cannot express how this man has impacted my life. In God’s providence, not only did I come to appreciate David Miller’s expository preaching, but I was able to call him a friend.
A Lionhearted Boldness
It wasn’t until after I became a student at The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary (SBTS) that I would learn of David Miller’s role as trustee and involvement in the conservative movement within SBTS and the broader Southern Baptist Convention. In his role as a trustee, he stood without flinching on the need to return to the roots of biblical doctrine.
One day as we sat together over lunch, David told me the story of one trustee meeting that he had during the middle of the conservative resurgence days. He intentionally sat at the table next to one of the liberal Old Testament professors at the dinner table. During the time of their conversation, David posed an important question to the professor. David asked, “Professor, do you believe in the historicity of the first eleven chapters of the book of Genesis?” The Old Testament professor responded, “Well, yes David, I do believe in the historicity of the first eleven chapters of the book of Genesis.”
David smiled in appreciation and continued to press the issue. He asked, “Do you believe in Adam and Eve?” The professor nodded in agreement, and said, “David, I do believe in Adam and Eve.” David continued by saying, “Professor, I would like to know if you believe in a literal Adam, the progenitor of the human race?” It was at this time that the professor responded, “David, I don’t believe in a literal Adam as the progenitor of the human race. I believe the Hebrew term for “ADAM” can be taken as an expression of the entire human race.
At this point, David pressed further. He said, “Professor, I will have you to know that the good Southern Baptists back home in Heber Springs, Arkansas where I’m from, sitting in their rocking chairs on their front porch, would be concerned to know that their tithes and offerings are going to pay the salary of a professor at the seminary who is entrusted with training young preachers and missionaries who doesn’t believe in a literal Adam.” The professor responded, “David, those Southern Baptists on their front porch in their rocking chairs don’t possess enough theological acumen to understand the nuances of the theology behind the term “Adam” in the Hebrew language.”
At this point, David explained that everyone at the table had paused in their conversations and eating to pay attention to the conversation that was happening between he and the Old Testament professor. He said he responded, “Professor, it is the opinion of this country preacher that those good Southern Baptists back home in Heber Springs, Arkansas in their rocking chairs have apparently forgotten more theology than you apparently know.” According to David, you could hear a pin drop at this point. It was clear, David had exposed the professor’s aberrant and dangerous theology at the table.
David Miller was unflinching in his resolve—possessing a rare combination of doctrinal depth and unwavering commitment to persevere in the faith regardless of what may be popular according to the spirit of the age.
David Miller was a fierce solider for Christ. While there are many more stories like this one, time does not permit me to speak of all of them. David Miller was unflinching in his resolve—possessing a rare combination of doctrinal depth and unwavering commitment to persevere in the faith regardless of what may be popular according to the spirit of the age.
A Warmhearted Tenderness
People flocked to David Miller. He was like a magnet outside of the pulpit. He could say hard things in the pulpit and yet people were drawn to him because of his warmhearted spirit and gentleness in person. He was a man’s man who loved to hunt big game and watch all things sports as a committed Arkansas fan, but he had a tenderness that was attractive.
This warm tender spirit was evident in the way he loved his wife Glenda and his son Josh and grandson Malachi. It was also evident in the great number of people who would travel long distances to hear David Miller preach the Word.
A Love for God’s Word
The first time I recall hearing David Miller preach, I recall being blown away with his ability to commit the text of Scripture to memory—and then preach a verse-by-verse exposition without notes. Due to his disability, he was confined to a wheelchair. He had limited mobility and couldn’t use his hands to hold and turn the pages on the Bible, much less his notebook. When I asked him if God granted him with a photographic memory, he denied that claim. It’s one thing to love to preach the Bible, but another thing to love the Bible as God’s holy Word. That love was evident in how he approached preaching.
David Miller loved the truth of God’s Word. I witnessed this firsthand when his son Josh was hospitalized after a tragic automobile accident. When everyone asked him if he still believed in the sovereignty of God after Josh was confined to a wheelchair, he responded without hesitation, “I believe in the sovereignty of God even more after this tragedy.” When I watched David Miller suffer through his disability and his son’s tragic automobile accident, he continued to find peace in the truth of God’s Word. That would continue to shine brightly through the sickness and death of his beloved wife Glenda.
It’s one thing to love to preach the Bible, but another thing to love the Bible as God’s holy Word.
According to David, he was able to commit large sections of Scripture to memory because he maintained a faithful devotional in God’s Word before he studied and memorized the text. He would get up in the morning and read sixteen chapters of the Bible as he started the day. This would allow him to read the Bible in full four times in a single year. He said to me, “Josh, if you read the Bible like that over the period of about ten years and then add to it your personal study of a specific passage later in the afternoons while seeking to commit that passage of Scripture to memory—you’ll discover that it’s much easier to memorize the Bible because your heart and mind is saturated with the Word of God.” David Miller loved God’s holy Word.
A Commitment to Expository Preaching
David Miller’s evangelistic ministry was properly named, “Line Upon Line Ministries.” David spent much of his ministry traveling the roads in his motorhome and preaching in local churches with an aim to strengthen local churches. However, at the heart of his ministry was a desire to encourage and educate younger preachers.
Years ago, when I was a young pastor, I was invited to an “invitation only” weekend in Heber Springs, Arkansas for young preachers of God’s Word. We spent the weekend being instructed by David Miller on the principles of biblical exposition. Not only did we receive a bundle of good books to add to our budding libraries, but we also enjoyed time with a seasoned veteran who enjoyed investing in young men who would go out into pulpits and preach the Bible and shepherd souls. Looking back, that was the beginning of a lengthy friendship.
In recent days, it seemed that I went full circle. Not only did I go back home to pastor my home church were I was first introduced to David Miller, but I have in recent years taught as a professor of expository preaching at Grace Bible Theological Seminary in Conway, Arkansas. This past May as I was finishing up the semester with my final on-campus class responsibility, my wife Kari and I traveled over to David’s home where we ate lunch together and reminisced about life, ministry, G3 Ministries, and much more.
I begged him to come and preach one more time in our local church, but he explained that due to his limited lung capacity, he wasn’t able to endure for a full sermon any longer. He then said something in typical David Miller style. He said, “Josh, are you familiar with old western movies?” I said, “Yes sir.” He said, “You do realize they all have a similar theme, right?” I said, “Explain it to me.” He said, “Well, it goes like this. The cowboy rides into town, shoots the bad guys, kisses the girl, and then rides off into the sunset.” I chuckled in response to his deliberate emphasis on the theme. He then said, “At this point, I’ve ridden into town, shot the bad guys, kissed the girl, and now I find myself on my sunset ride.”
We laughed, shared pictures from our phones together, and then said our goodbyes. I had promised him that we would return with a film crew to capture some good episodes for the G3 Podcast about preaching, ministry, and the conservative resurgence in the fall of this year. As it turned out, his sunset ride was more swift than I imagined. In God’s providence, that would be my final conversation with this great giant of modern church history.
At the burial service of John Knox, Mr. Thomas Smeaton, one of his contemporaries said the following, “I know not if God ever placed a more Godly and great spirt in a body so little and frail.” Knox was small in stature and often sickly. While David Miller was not short in stature, he was plagued by a degenerative disease (muscular atrophy) that caused him to be confined to a wheelchair for the great portion of his life and ministry. Although plagued by a crippling disease, David Miller stood head and shoulders above many of his contemporaries in his day.
I have been blessed to call him my friend. He will be greatly missed. Modern evangelicalism lost a true hero. While I’m saddened by his passing, I can’t help but smile to know that he is free from this body of sin and the ongoing grip of a crippling disease. He is free. He is with our Lord. May our God be pleased to raise up more men with such unflinching resolve and boldness for his glory and the good of his Church.
