Thousands flock to see Christian healer

Stacy J. Willis

Friday, Feb. 9, 2001 | 11:33 a.m.

Seven hours before Pentecostal healer Benny Hinn takes the stage at the Thomas & Mack Center Thursday night, Sandra Gomez is standing beside her brain-damaged husband in a hospital room.

They are both 19.

They met a little more than a year ago while working at a pet store. They fell in love quickly.

Soon Sandra and Larry were married. Their daughter Alyssa was born in September.

But in October, while playing football at Sunset Park, Larry was tackled hard and hit his head. He slipped into a coma and suffered permanent brain damage.

"He has a sub-cranial hematoma," Sandra says in his hospital room, Alyssa balanced on her hip.

Photos of Larry -- a handsome, vibrant young man -- are pinned to the wall behind his bed. Today he is thin and pale.

But Sandra is hopeful. More than hopeful, really -- confident -- that Larry's head injury will be healed tonight by Benny Hinn. She has arranged for the hospital to release him for the evening, and she has arranged to pay $100 for a nonemergency ambulance to drive him to the Thomas & Mack Center.

"I believe that he's going to be completely healed tonight. Every day I've gotten more convinced," Gomez said. "I believe the presence of God is very strong within Benny Hinn. "I went to the pastors' meeting thinking Benny Hinn would be there. But he wasn't," Gomez said. "So I decided then that I would take Larry to the crusade."

Faith leader

Benny Hinn is a 48-year old televangelist who was born in Israel to a Greek father and an Armenian mother. He now spends his time primarily in Texas and Southern California producing his show, "This Is Your Day."

His Christian business reportedly receives $60 million annually in contributions from followers.

Hinn claims to be a channel for God, and that he regularly receives new truths from God. Some of his televised prophecies have drawn scrutiny from even the most faithful Christians:

"I see something quite amazing -- I see rows of caskets lining up in front of this TV ... people are going to be canceling funeral services and bringing their dead in ... there's going to be divine resurrection happening as people bring their loved ones to the TV set," he said on TBN in 1999.

Hinn regularly flicks his jacket at people, claiming that it is imbued with the Holy Spirit and can, upon being flicked, heal people. Many claim that it has.

Hinn founded the Orlando (Fla.) Christian Center in 1983, and moved to Dallas in 1999. His detractors have long criticized his affluent lifestyle, and they have alleged that some of his teachings were "contrary" to Christian doctrine.

But Hinn has a mass of followers. His book Good Morning, Holy Spirit, spent several years on the best-seller list after its release in 1990.

He has long been associated with the Trinity Broadcasting Network, the world's largest Christian network, and, says spokesman Jeff Pittman, "He's way beyond just TBN now. He's all over the world."

Revival

And now, he's in Las Vegas.

By 2 p.m. on Thursday, more than 100 people have gathered outside the Thomas & Mack. They are here to get good seats at the free, first-come-first-serve "Miracle Crusade."

They have come from around the world -- from Mexico and Minnesota, from Washington and Guatemala. Some are loyal Hinn followers, some have never seen Hinn in person.

By 7 p.m., thousands have converged on the stadium, some wearing their Sunday best and others in sweat suits. They buy popcorn and Cokes and Benny Hinn videos and stand in line for the bathrooms until finally the lights dim and everyone takes a seat.

Before the services begin, Hinn's associates ask the crowd to consider becoming a member of his crusade by donating $30 a month. They pass out envelopes.

Hinn, clad in a white suit and with hairsprayed hair, begins by announcing that "the city of Las Vegas will never be the same" after this crusade.

"We think this is the biggest religious event ever in Las Vegas," he says. A sea of hands reaches roof-ward, waving in the name of Jesus. People yell "hallelujah" and hug each other as Hinn delivers his sermon. They hold hands, they smile and cry.

In the back row of the prime floor seats, Larry Gomez is propped up in a stretcher. He's wearing a ski hat and has a blanket around him. His eyes are closed. Sandra and other family members are by his side.

Throughout Hinn's performance, Sandra holds Larry's weak hand, and strokes his face, and soon enough, tears drip down her cheeks.

And they wait for their chance to be healed.

Midway through the program, Hinn calls International Church of Las Vegas pastor the Rev. Paul Goulet to his side onstage, along with Goulet's wife and daughter. Hinn tells the audience that the reason he decided to come to Las Vegas is because Goulet's 19-year-old daughter attended a crusade in California and was cured of Hodgkin's disease.

"That's where it all began," Hinn says.

The International Church of Las Vegas is the "host church" for Hinn's Las Vegas Miracle Crusade.

The Gomezes attended International Church, formerly called the West Valley Assembly of God. It has a weekly attendance of more than 2,500 and recently opened a new building in Summerlin.

Hinn introduces a half dozen other local pastors and reminds the crowd of more than 17,000 to "find a good church and go every Sunday."

At 10 p.m., Hinn's associates begin taking up the collection. Dozens of ushers carrying hundreds of buckets make the rounds through the crowd as Hinn talks about planning the "first-ever crusade" in Cairo, Egypt.

Some people are heading towards the doors now, but not the Gomezes.

They are still sitting in the back row, waiting for their turn to be healed.

Finally the personal healing begins. People are escorted onto the stage by Hinn's ministers to tell a brief story about the miracles they have experienced tonight.

Person after person is chosen to walk up the steps to Hinn's stage and tell their miracle story. Cancer and AIDS and mysterious aches and pains of all kinds, they say, have disappeared.

"Look at all these empty wheelchairs in Las Vegas," Hinn says about the dozen or so chairs now sitting on his stage, their owners walking the floor. "It's a miracle."

Larry Gomez is still lying in his stretcher, a minister praying with his family.

The auditorium is hot, people are sweating and dancing and falling to the ground in the spirit of Jesus. Hinn himself appears to be tiring. "This is only Thursday night," Hinn tells the crowd of people who have not yet visited his stage. He will hold two more crusades today -- one in the morning, one at night.

"Tomorrow is another night," he tells those still hoping to get on stage. "Tomorrow, tomorrow."

The lights come up at the Thomas & Mack. The music stops. Hinn disappears.

The Gomezes are still sitting in the back of the now emptying auditorium. They got to the stage.

Sandra Gomez is wiping tears from her cheeks.

"He's tired," she says of Larry, who is still in his stretcher. She slides the ski cap back on Larry's scarred and slumped-over head. "He wants to go home.

"I don't think I can bring him back tomorrow. He wants to go home."