Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, May 7, 1994 TAG: 9405090121
SECTION: RELIGION PAGE: B-9 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By CODY LOWE STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
It was there he saw the "transforming power of Jesus Christ" among people that much of society views as irredeemable, he says. And it was there he witnessed the stories he now shares in a revival ministry he calls "From Convicted - To Converted."
Richards will recount some of those experiences as part of a five-day revival series beginning Sunday in the exhibition hall of the Roanoke Civic Center. A half-hour of music begins at 7 each night, followed by Richards' presentation.
Admission is free. There is no offering taken, no altar call extended. "We're not out to change people's denominational beliefs. We just want to lift up the Lord,... have people see Jesus from a different perspective," Richards said in an interview this week.
"Lots of evangelists want people to raise their hands or come forward" to express a new or renewed Christian commitment, Richards said. Instead, he says his experience is that "change happens in a personal, private, quiet way in the soul of a person."
Richards is pastor of the Roanoke Seventh-day Adventist Church on Memorial Avenue Southwest, but he stresses that his message will not deal with Adventist doctrine - such as Saturday worship or dietary preferences.
Richards actually downplays his relationship to the traditional image of a minister of any stripe. He comes from a business background - he was a regional manager for a large national insurance company - and most of his ministerial career has been in a non-denominational role.
In 1979, while he was living and working in Williamsburg, Richards was asked by his minister to help lead a Saturday morning Bible study at a nearby prison camp. He reluctantly agreed, he said, after he was told all he had to do was lead a prayer, show a videotape, give away a few Bibles and answer any questions the inmates had.
Though he would never had expected it, he said, "a rapport grew between me and the prisoners." He continued to visit the prison weekly.
A year and a half later, the prison chaplain left and Richards was asked to become the chaplain. He refused, insisting he was a businessman not a minister, but after some arm-twisting said he would agree to coordinate religious activities at the prison.
His work hours were flexible, he said, making it an ideal arrangement. In three months, he had increased the number of on-going religious programs at the prison from three to 20, he said, and the warden again approached him about becoming the official chaplain.
Richards finally gave in, took the required training for prison chaplains - though he was not ordained - and for the next seven years held that job in addition to his insurance post.
During that time, his vision was getting progressively worse from an eye condition that left him blind at first only in the center of his field of sight. By March 1988, he was declared legally blind and received a disability retirement from his insurance job.
Richards says he tried to resign the chaplaincy at the same time, but was persuaded to keep it for about another year.
At about the same time he was preparing to leave the chaplaincy post, he was asked to give the first of what would be a long series of revivalistic messages based on his experience with prisoners. He spoke first to a United Methodist men's group in Richmond, later to Christian business groups and to youth groups, which he describes as particularly receptive to his message.
He never charged for his appearances, Richards said, though sponsoring organizations paid his expenses.
His ministry took another turn when, in late 1990, he was asked by denominational leaders to come and "help out" at the Roanoke Seventh-day Adventist congregation. He agree to come for a couple of months. He's been here ever since, now ensconced as the minister. Last year, he gave up the revival ministry because of the demands of keeping up with his 300-member church and its 50-student school.
Members of his congregation pressed him, though, to give his prison ministry testimony here, and the congregation is footing all the expenses and serving as volunteer ushers and child-care providers.
"I thought after I became blind, my life would be put on the shelf, but today it's like my life was on the shelf before. I see with a new vision. My physical vision is gone, but my spiritual vision - my view of God - is much clearer now."
That's the vision he says he wants to share next week.
by CNB