Christian Rally Draws Ex-Sinners to Capitol

The West Lawn of the U.S. Capitol was transformed into a giant Christian courtroom yesterday, with a parade of reformed sinners telling thousands of fellow believers how they had found righteousness through Jesus Christ.

Former drug addicts and alcoholics; women who had had abortions; men who had had sex with men; people who had dabbled in the occult.

The stories recounted on the second day of the rally called Washington for Jesus '96 varied, but the outcome was always the same. People who had felt hopeless, alone and ashamed found acceptance in Jesus's love. "You know, there's no sin that the Lord can't forgive," testified Sydna Masse, who said that she had aborted a pregnancy in 1981, when she was 19, then became a born-again Christian whose career is spent persuading other young women to carry their pregnancies to term. She now directs a "pro-life ministry" in Colorado Springs. "I'm living proof that He can use a sinner."

Charles Miles Jr., a young veteran of the Persian Gulf War, told the sympathetic crowd that he had been hooked on drugs and living in the street. "To crack cocaine, I lost a wife, three kids and a home," he preached. "But Jesus, He came in, and He saved my soul. I'm here to tell you that Jesus is the way. . . . Jesus healed me."

After each series of testimonies, a "prosecutor" asked the crowd for a verdict on the sin in question. "Guilty!" they shouted, again and again. On the stage, and on giant video screens that dotted the Mall, a man sounded a long blast on a ram's horn.

When a speaker asked who in the audience had "participated in the sin of abortion," Cynthia Probst, 38, of Florida, raised her hand. She was surrounded immediately by well-wishers who laid hands on her, praying with her and telling her that Jesus loved her still.

"This was murder, and I am guilty of it, and I repent for it in the name of Jesus," cried Probst, a carnival vendor. "If it can change one person's mind and one baby can be saved, then . . . in the name of Jesus, I bear my cross."

U.S. Park Police estimated that 75,000 people attended the rally over two days. Huddled yesterday under umbrellas and tarpaulins amid steady rain and gusty wind, the faithful sang along with contemporary Christian music groups and gospel choirs, waved their arms in ecstasy and bowed their heads in prayer.

The gathering, the third organized in the nation's capital since 1980 by the Rev. John Gimenez, alternated stern condemnations of homosexuality and abortion with calls for school prayer, racial harmony and continued evangelizing in the name of Jesus. At times, however, the mood turned hostile toward the lawmakers in the stately white building behind the stage.

"Let's pray that God will slay everyone in the Capitol," said Paul Crouch of the Trinity Broadcast Network, who took the microphone yesterday afternoon. The channel broadcast the entire event, organizers said.

After a youth rally Monday under sunny skies, hundreds of teenagers and young adults camped out on the Mall overnight -- dancing in the pink light from the stage lamps, throwing glow-in-the-dark Frisbees and footballs or resting on sleeping bags and blankets. On stage, performers kept up a steady pace, singing about Jesus, quoting Bible verses and exhorting the crowd to make noise.

As if in response, about a dozen residents of the Pennsylvania Avenue NW corridor telephoned police to complain about the music, but authorities said it fell within the restrictions of the rally permit.

Kelly Nowery, 14, a heavy-metal music fan from Altoona, Pa., danced by herself shortly after 4 a.m. to the thumping tunes of a Colorado band. The rest of her youth group slept at her feet, but Kelly didn't mind. "I think it's really cool," she said. "The music's the best."

Twelve hours later, the two-day event reached its emotional high point when televangelist Benny Hinn staged a fast-paced "miracle healing" service.

Dozens of believers ascended the stage one at a time (security guards restricted access to "definite healings only") and told Hinn how faith had cured them of kidney failure, benign tumors, high blood pressure and a long list of other ailments.

On the plaza below, transfixed members of the audience clustered around invalids, touching them, praying for them and crying for God to ease their afflictions.

"Get up! Get up!" they urged Megan Donnelly, an 8-year-old with cerebral palsy who had been lifted from her wheelchair and was sagging in an adult's arms. Megan cried in frustration and reached for the chair.

Jessie Simms, 9, of Southeast Washington, left his walker behind briefly, wading through a sea of cheering believers with slow steps on spindly legs made untrustworthy by cerebral palsy.

His mother, Rene, said it was the best he had ever done without the metal walker. Even the few moments of independence -- and the support of so many fervent strangers -- left her feeling renewed.

"I believe God will heal my son totally. It wasn't his complete time yet," she said. "It made me feel that people care. It just moved my heart. There is still love here in this world, even through the darkness. And that's the miracle."

Staff writer Steve Vogel contributed to this report.

Articles appear as they were originally printed in The Washington Post and may not include subsequent corrections.