Sunday, May 10, 1998

Deion Sanders leads hundreds in weekly Bible study sessions

By CHRISTY LEMIRE / Associated Press Writer

PLANO, Texas (AP) -- It began on a Sunday in October, in a Washington hotel, the night before the Dallas Cowboys were to play the Redskins.

About a half-dozen Cowboys who routinely prayed together on Saturdays before Sunday games were expecting to continue their tradition. But nothing had been planned.

Deion Sanders, a loyal member of the prayer group, had an idea. He already had flown his friend and spiritual mentor, pastor David Forbes of Columbus, Ohio, in town for the game, so he had Forbes lead the group.

A few days later, Sanders said God told him to remain in charge of the group.

"He said, ÔDeion, I want you to continue this,' " Sanders said.

That week, Sanders invited the same players to his living room for Bible study. The following week, the group grew to about 40 people -- so many that Sanders moved the meeting to his garage and had to borrow chairs from a Christian book store.

By the third week, Sanders had to move the gathering to at a nearby church. Soon, that space was too small, forcing a move to another, bigger church.

Now, through nothing more than word of mouth, Sanders' "Prime Time Tuesday" gatherings have grown to about 400 worshippers, including a diverse mix of black and white, young and old.

Skeptics of Sanders' recent religious immersion may be surprised to hear of the weekly Bible lessons. They're probably even more surprised that Sanders -- who gave himself the nicknames "Neon Deion" and "Prime Time" -- has kept it quiet.

When The Associated Press attended a recent Tuesday night session, Sanders said it was the first time he'd allowed media coverage. His reason: "We don't want to taint the word of the Lord."

"People doubt that he's a real Christian and then they come here and see he's a real, true Christian," said Emmitt Smith, one of the original group members.

"It's definitely a blessing. I appreciate Deion for doing this. He's saved a lot of souls," said Charlie Williams, another Cowboy who's been part of the group since its inception.

One reason the sincerity of Sanders' conversion from admitted adulterer to devout Christian has been questioned is because of the flashy way he's done it.

When Sanders and three teammates were baptized in October, television cameras were there to record it. You may have seen it on ESPN.

And, although he ditched the sparkling gold-and-diamond "21" pendant he often wore in favor of a cross, he picked one that was equally huge and also diamond-studded.

Sanders even makes a glitzy entrance to his prayer sessions.

He pulls up to the church in his sleek, black Mercedes Benz with dark tinted windows. Seconds later, a helper jumps in and whisks it away to a parking space.

All eyes are on Sanders as he glides inside, dressed in a raspberry-colored linen suit and matching leather shoes. He hugs and high-fives those who flock to him, surround him, adore him.

Many are true believers. Some, however, are there simply to catch a glimpse of the born-again Christian athlete.

A band and a choir warm up the worshippers, who clap and dance. Then Sanders takes the stage and the electricity level suddenly jumps a few notches.

He grabs a microphone and the first words out of his mouth are "Praise God."

He continues, the music blaring behind him, "I said hallelujah."

When he doesn't get quite the reaction he wants, Sanders puts a hand on his hip, pouts and growls: "I really don't think you heard me. I ain't speakin' French. I don't know if you understand me, because I said hallelujah!"

The crowd jumps and cheers, to his apparent satisfaction.

Sanders' stage presence evokes memories of Deion the rap singer, who spent time in 1994 as the opening act for the popular group Boyz II Men. He stomps his foot to the pounding gospel music. He pumps his arms high in the air, prompting the crowd with the "raise the roof" gesture.

After a few raucous minutes, Sanders brings the mood down a bit. The music quiets, as does his voice. He speaks in breathy, almost seductive tones.

"We don't have to tell nobody at work that we're saved," he says, pausing, then whispering, "We show them."

Worshippers respond with a chorus of "amens."

Sanders steps aside to allow a preacher to lead the actual Bible study. This week, it's Forbes again.

A slight man in a navy blue suit and wire-rimmed glasses, Forbes was Sanders' spiritual guide last summer when he played outfield for the Cincinnati Reds.

The evening's topics include temptation, which Sanders says was his downfall. His ex-wife, Carolyn, divorced him in recent months and moved with their son and daughter to Houston.

Forbes also preaches about setting goals and having the determination of a football player. Some in the crowd already do -- fellow Cowboys Williams, Smith and Broderick Thomas are part of the audience.

The most emotional moment of the evening comes toward the end, when Forbes and Sanders ask worshippers who are having a rough time to come forward for a blessing.

Sanders approaches a tall man wearing jeans and hiking boots. Sanders looks him in the eye, takes him in his arms and the man crumbles into a heap of sobs. Sanders holds him for about five minutes, whispering encouraging words into his ear. Afterward, Sanders brings the man tissues and guides him back to his seat.

When asked later whether he knew the man, Sanders says no.

"I saw in that person that he was broken, like I was a year ago. You could see the anguish and see the hurt," he said. "But you could also see the deserving he has."

This is a very different Deion Sanders from the high-stepping, do-rag-wearing, smack-talking football player notorious for prancing up and down the field at Texas Stadium.

Although many people don't believe Sanders really has changed, it's difficult to find anyone willing to go on record questioning his transformation. Even his ex-wife's divorce lawyer, Mike McCurley, said he wouldn't speculate about it.

People are naturally skeptical of Sanders because of his larger-than-life image, said Marc Dickmann, sports information director for Athletes in Action, a nationwide group that promotes Christianity in sports.

"I think people are waiting to see if this is a long-term change," Dickmann said. "There are plenty of stories of athletes coming into religious faith and then falling off the platform, getting caught in some story of ill repute."

Ken Moyer, a chaplain for the Cincinnati Reds who spoke with Sanders about Christianity last summer, said he believes the devotion is genuine.

"Someone who doesn't know Deion and says he's all flash and no substance is speaking out of ignorance," said Moyer, a former offensive lineman for the Cincinnati Bengals. "Deion's not saying, ÔLook at me, I'm perfect.' He's saying, ÔLook at me, I need God.' "

Sanders gives no thought to his doubters.

"They talked about me when I was in the world. They're going to talk about me now that I'm delivered," he said. "People who work with you, your teammates, they know you."

And, according to teammate Williams: "I see him every day. He's definitely legitimate."

No matter the sincerity of Sanders' devotion, even his harshest critics must give him credit for having a positive impact on hundreds of people every week through the prayer sessions.

"I just love the service," said Cheryl Mumanyi, who was attending her second gathering after a friend at work brought her. "I praise God's glory and God is here and people are getting saved."

Sanders also recently donated $1 million to The Potter's House, the church he credits with his salvation when he was suicidal a year ago. About half that money comes from the advance Sanders received for his upcoming autobiography, "Power, Money and Sex: It's a Man Thing," which details how his fast-paced lifestyle brought him no fulfillment until he found Jesus.

"Football is irrelevant. Sports are irrelevant," Sanders said. "I play to win and I play with all my heart, but if the Lord told me to walk away, I would walk away and never look back."