Since I am in this category myself, Tas, let me give a personal response.
First, let me contextualize my comments. I find my institutional home (Messiah College) in many ways ideal. I probably could be teaching at a very secular place: early in my academic career, I had a visiting position at Vanderbilt and I was on the short list (i.e., was invited to campus for an interview, something that happens only as the penultimate step in hiring a new faculty member) for jobs at two Ivy League universities and one major public research university. I declined an invitation to interview at another public university, where (they said on the phone) I was the top candidate. Several years later, I had a one-year visiting research position at Penn (not one of the two Ivies I just mentioned). And, several more years after that, I was approached about a pending full professorship at yet another research university, but the position never got advertised after strict budgetary restrictions had to be implemented. So, I think it’s realistic to say that I don’t teach at an evangelical college b/c that’s the only type of place where I would ever be hired. (You haven’t implied this, Tas, but I sometimes hear people say things like that about faculty at places like Messiah. So, I start by getting that out of the way.)
Why do I find this such a good fit? My interest is primarily the history of Christianity and science. Not only to I get to teach about that here–a lot, which I like–I get institutional support (both financial and emotional) for focusing on aspects of that history in my research. Even though a lot of my stuff is published in regular academic venues, I don’t have to worry about colleagues undervaluing the specific topics I choose to investigate. That could very well be a problem at a given secular institution, but certainly not at all of them, since I am an affiliate fellow (a certain type of formal faculty association) at one of the major graduate programs in history of science. But, this happens to some secular scholars too, for different reasons, so it’s not unique to Christian scholars like me. Still, it just doesn’t come up at Messiah–and it shouldn’t, given the nature of my work. I actually get rewarded for directing some of my work at “real people” (like readers of BL), rather than directing all of it at fellow nerds. And, I get rewarded for wanting to help the body of Christ think hard about science. (None of this means that my conclusions are correct, but it does mean that people want me to keep thinking and writing about such things, whereas that might not be true at many secular institutions.)
I’ve never been a YEC, Tas, not at any point in my life. I’m old enough to remember when the YEC view was not the default option for so many conservative congregations, and I watched it basically take over large segments of the evangelical world. The “problem” you refer to (Christian academics who don’t interpret early Genesis along the lines of Ken Ham) is one I am fully aware of, but I don’t regard it as a problem at all. IMO, the YEC movement is born more from fear of secularism and religious modernism (I am not and never have been a “modernist”) than from confidence in biblical truth (which does not equate with Ham’s interpretation of Genesis). It’s also born from a rigid, literalistic hermeneutic that someone like Augustine or John Calvin or B. B. Warfield would never have embraced, a hermeneutic that insists that all biblical statements about nature or human events must be “true,” in a manner that conforms to our modern (post-biblical) sensibilities about scientific or historical truth.
Given all of this (as I see it), Tas, it’s not so hard to understand why many academics at evangelical colleges and seminaries approach origins differently from YECs–you are right about that part, despite that fact that there are several dozen institutions where affirmation of YEC is required in order to be on the faculty. Many of us really do want institutional homes where we have genuine academic freedom to be encouraged to explore questions that many secular universities ignore or trivialize, coupled with genuine academic freedom to do our own thinking, whether or not Ham and company agree with our conclusions. I don’t object to Ham, or any of my colleagues here or elsewhere, concluding that the earth is just a few thousand years old: he and they must conclude what makes the most sense to them. However, I strongly object to Ham, or any of my colleagues, imposing their own conclusions about origins and the Bible on me, either by name-calling (“compromiser” is just one such term) or by formal strictures on employment involving these matters. It’s our job to be the church at thought. We don’t have to do this particular job, but if an institution wants us to do it, we must be allowed to do it properly, by doing our own thinking.