Driving on west through the California desert, I was astonished at the sweet sense of coming home. Where did that come from? I had never lived in Southern California and spent only a year or so in Northern. After Karin arrived with the kids, she told me she experienced something similar. We found a house in the working class section of Thousand Oaks. The neighborhood allowed horses, and the house we purchased had a four stall barn.
We visited the churches in the area. The architecture of all of them was unattractive, dark, closed, conventional, pews in rows. The preachers were boring. My sense was that the Adventists in California were deeper into “the Adventist world” than what I had experienced in New York or Ohio. Prophetic speculations and a profound wariness about the seductive threat of everything that was “outside” seemed to be the prime topics of conversation at potlucks and in church lobbies. We ended up at the Camarillo Church because of their quality programming for kids.
At about the time I was hired, the Voice of Prophecy had chosen Melashenko to take H. M. S. Richards, Jr.'s place as the speaker/director of the ministry. The plan was for a gradual transition. Melashenko would work along side Richards as the associate speaker, then gradually Richards would step back as Melashenko increasingly became the public face of the ministry. Publishing a book with Melashenko's name on it would be a helpful step in the process of giving him increased visibility in the denomination.
Melashenko had preached a series of sermons at the Paradise, California, Adventist Church not long before this transition. The sermons were an obvious source for a book. My first assignment, which I began working on before we actually moved to California, was to edit these sermons for publication. The sermons had already been transcribed, so it should have been an easy assignment.
The sermon series was structured around the people who were present at the cross on Good Friday. I read through the sermons, then began polishing the first chapter, transforming it from verbal to good written form.
One of the elders at Akron First Church, Larry Baggott, when he learned what I was doing, asked if I had ever read Leslie Hardinge's book, These Watched Him Die? No, I hadn't read the book, but I had heard Hardinge present a Week of Prayer on this theme when I was at a student at Pacific Union College. And yes, what I had read in the transcripts did have a familiar feel. Baggott lent me his copy of Hardinge's book.
Oops! Many of Melashenko's sermons consisted largely of quotations from Hardinge's book. Melashenko had a good memory. He was also phenomenally gifted at reading a script with a passion and naturalness that belied the fact he was reading. Whether the sermons had been read or were delivered from memory, the bottom line was that the transcriptions were frequently word-for-word repetitions Hardinge's book for pages at a time. In nearly every sermon more than half was direction quotation from Hardinge.
I called the manager at Voice of Prophecy and asked what to do. It was not a problem that could be addressed by simply giving credit. We couldn't put Melashenko's name on a book that consisted mostly of direct quotation from another book published by the denomination, a book that was still in print. Not only was the book still in print, Hardinge himself had preached the content of his book at campmeetings across the country and at many Adventist colleges.
It was finally decided I would write a book on the topic, using the Hardinge/Melashenko sermons as one source. That way there would be some connection between Melashenko and the content of the book, but it would avoid the embarrassment of merely copying Hardinge's work. The finished book showed no direct dependence on Hardinge. Melashenko had done his most independent work in the chapter on Mary Magdalene, so in this chapter I included several pages from the transcript of his sermon. Pacific Press published the book with the title, Stand at the Cross: And Be Changed. I was listed as a co-author. I was thrilled to have a book in print with my name on it. And I was, in fact, the author.
The production of this book set the tone for my work at The Voice of Prophecy. Both H. M. S. Richards, Jr. and Lonnie Melashenko were consumed with their work as the directors of a large ministry. They had no time for the slogging hard work of producing content for the broadcast or books. They chose their writers carefully then trusted them completely.
I would be assigned to write a week's scripts: five scripts, each with an approximately nine minute sermon and four minutes of introduction and invitations to write or phone for a free offer and an invitation to support the ministry financially. For the first few months, my scripts were reviewed critically by others and I was given thoughtful feedback. By the end of the first year I was left virtually on my own. Over the six years I worked there, only once was a manuscript returned to me as unacceptable. (The rejection was fully earned.)
I was (and am) a slow writer. Add to that my tendency to be easily distracted and there were times when I was up all night, trying to meet a recording deadline. A couple of times I did not make deadline and the entire ministry schedule was disrupted. In the last several years I was at Voice, my fellow writer and supervisor was David Smith. At that time, I wrote and produced the Sunday broadcast, a twenty-eight and a half minute program. Smith was writing and producing the Monday through Friday broadcasts, five thirteen and a half minute programs. Every week he wrote two and a half times as many words as I did. I remember once, after Melashenko had done an overseas evangelistic series, the ministry decided to produce a book telling the story of the meetings. Smith was drafted as writer. In a week or two he completed it.
Smith was a writing machine. Usually, his first draft was ninety-eight to a hundred percent of the final draft. He could write circles around me. I was slow and inefficient. I would write and re-write. Often I would be five or six pages into a sermon manuscript before realizing it wasn't going to work. So, I'd delete it and start over. On the other hand, I was recognized as the master when it came to handling delicate, sensitive issues.
From day one, I had to fight the old guard for permission to address any distinctively Adventist doctrine in the broadcast. For decades, the prevailing ethos had been to avoid giving offense. Just “preach the gospel.” “Sound like Christians.” “Win friends.” Then after they liked us and signed up for a Bible course or attended an evangelistic meeting sponsored by the Voice of Prophecy, we could share with them our distinctive beliefs.
I thought it a bit humorous that I who was more unorthodox, more liberal, more eccentric than any one else associated with the ministry, would be the one pushing the ministry to be more faithful to its denominational identity in its public programming.
One cause championed by several in the old guard had my full support. There were Adventist radio ministries around the world modeled on the Voice of Prophecy. In one respect these foreign ministries were like each other and different from the American Voice of Prophecy: Their names meant Voice of Hope rather than Voice of Prophecy, e.g. Voz de Esperanza, Stimme der Hoffnung, a Voz da Esperança.
Our radio broadcasts did not feature prophetic themes prominently. The old guard would have replaced a focus on prophecy with a focus on the cross. I would have replaced it with a more generalized message of hope and well-being anchored in the synoptic gospels. We agreed using the name Voice of Hope would connect us with our international partners and give us a spiritual/religious identity that was healthier and less open to the common bias against against Adventists as a “cult.” I don't remember how these conversations came to nothing, but in the end, preserving the status quo won out. Which was congruent with Melahsenko's pattern of leadership.
He had a deep sense of the honor conferred on him by being chosen to “step into the shoes” of H. M. S. Richards. During the transition of leadership from H. M. S. Richards, Jr. to Melashenko, Melashenko wanted H. M. S. with him in every public appearance. I never saw Melashenko show the least inclination to set any new direction. He did not show any desire to put “his own stamp” on the ministry. Rather his dominant objective was to preserve, to conserve the venerable heritage he had been handed. He wanted to maintain the ministry. He wanted to keep the long-time supporters. We did everything we could to present the face of a “continuing ministry.” The new Voice of Prophecy under Melashenko was the same as the old Voice of Prophecy under the Richards. People could trust us.
Part of my job was to represent the Voice of Prophecy at campmeetings around the country. The speaker/directors, H. M. S. Richards, Jr. and Lonnie Melashenko, would be scheduled for weekend sermons at major campmeeings. Other staff would take speaking appointments at smaller campmeetings. Usually our sermons were scheduled during the week when the campmeetings were harder pressed to fill their schedules. I enjoyed the travel, at first, but after awhile grew weary of it. As a pastor, I would often think, after preaching, if I had a chance to preach that again, I could do a better job. I imagined I would enjoy preaching a sermon often enough to perfect it. In reality, while I was certainly able to deliver more polished sermons, I often found myself wondering whether the sermon I preached connected meaningfully to my audience. They were strangers. If I preached grace, I worried they needed greater emphasis on duty and obligation. If I preached duty and obligation, I worried I may have added to the unbearable burden my listeners were already carrying. As a pastor, I might not deliver polished sermons, but I had a deep sense of connection with my audience.
Usually once or twice a year, I would have a preaching assignment that lasted for several days. Sometimes I would speak Monday through Friday at a campmeeting. These extended assignments were more satisfying than single sermons. Visiting with people over the course of the week gave me a sense of connection with my audiences.
Once when Morris Venden had to cancel late, I was invited to speak for the Sabbath services and evening meetings in the main auditorium at the Oklahoma campmeeting. This was highly flattering. The first Sabbath, I was in the lobby of the gymnasium before the services began. I met C. Mervyn Maxwell, a former seminary professor. I introduced myself, but he brushed aside my introduction, saying, of course, he remembered me. Which was believable. I did ask a few questions in his class. According to a number of my classmates, once when I was absent, Maxwell had told the class that I would never get a job as a pastor. At the time, his prophecy was not unreasonable. My job prospects were dim.
Dr. Maxwell's first question was, “So, what are you doing now?”
“I'm the writer/producer for the Sunday broadcast of the Voice of Prophecy.” I could see the astonishment on his face. In our denomination, my position was considered a plum. It was a position of honor.
Dr. Maxwell asked the next obvious question. “So what brings you here to Oklahoma?”
“I'm speaking here this week.”
His discomfiture increased. “You know,” he said, “H. M. S. Richards really was not a well-rounded minister. All he could do was preach.”
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He was talking about the late H. M. S. Richards, Sr., the man who had founded the Voice of Prophecy. Richards was at that time arguably the most admired Seventh-day Adventist after our prophet Ellen White. He was considered our greatest preacher, a genuinely wise, good man, a larger than life person. To dismiss him as “only a preacher” would be like dismissing Pavarotti as “only a singer” or Einstein as “only a theoretical physicist.” I mumbled something in response and ended the conversation, astonished and amused.
It was a lesson. Even the most venerated preacher has his critics.
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