When John Wimber ruled the world.

It was an awkward time for the Strannigan family.
I was in junior high, living in a town full of cowboys and cowgirls and juvenile deliquents. We lived in an orange and yellow trailer on the church property. We had two ferrets, a cat, a slough of ill-behaved dogs. There were two horses and a mule that lived in the pasture in front of the trailer, and while they weren't our horses I pretended they were. There was one large and beautiful horse - Big Red was his name and he was my favorite. I learned how to mount him bareback and on days that I finished my school early, I would go and ride Big Red. I think my solo horseback rides were some of my favorite times in Wyoming; it was really the only time I ever felt at home there.

The first summer we spent in Wyoming, I went on a road trip with my mom and 3 other ladies from church. Wyoming was a spiritually dark and stagnant place and my mom always struggled with feeling stifled. She was judged for her charismatic leanings; there were few that understood this type of Christianity. But there were a few ladies who understood, and my mom packed them into our minivan and drove us to Anaheim, California. This was in the glory days of the Anaheim Vineyard, when John Wimber ruled the world and before everything got weird.

I don't think I knew what I was signing up for when I decided to go to the conference, but it was a chance to get out of Cody and that was good enough. We drove across the U.S. and it was my first time seeing Las Vegas. I was so enamored by the lights and the glitz and the glamor; it was such a far cry from the barren wastelands of Cody. I was excited and happy. I didn't mind that I was with a bunch of overweight married women (except for my teeny mother, of course), I was trekking across the country and I was going to the Vineyard. And God was going to speak to me.

My memory of the conference is spotty, at best. I remember that it wasn't at all what I expected. I remember the laughing, and the barking, and all those other charismatic outburts. I hated them. I remember Jackie Pullinger speaking and I loved her. In the midst of a charismatic conundrum, here was a woman who followed after Christ. Everything she said made sense and I was moved by every story and every word.

And, lastly I remember walking out of the conference. I think I was going to lunch. An asian girl - maybe early 20's - approached me out of the blue me and asked if she could pray for me. To this day, I don't know why she chose me. I always assumed it was God that prompted her. But she laid hands on me and she prayed and she prayed and she prayed. My mom was there, watching and praying. I think this girl expected greatness. I think she wanted a miracle of some sort; she wanted me to fall over or shake or laugh or bark or cry. I think I cried a little, mostly from the shame of disappointing her. But no such thing happened, I had no outward "manifestations" of the Holy Spirit. The girl said beautiful things to me and spoke truth in my life - I was truly grateful for the encounter. But after an extended prayer session, it was evident that I wasn't going to do anything exciting. So, I simply said thank you and proceeded to lunch.

On Sunday, we packed up and headed for home. It was Superbowl sunday, and my team - the San Francisco 49ers - were in the Superbowl. I was in the last stages of a particularly tomboy phase of life and I was THRILLED that my team made it to the big game. I was young and I was poor, but I desperately wanted to show my support. I attempted to make my own 49ers shirt by crudely drawing the numbers '4' and '9' with a sharpie on a white t-shirt. One of the ladies in our little troupe saw my haphazard shirt and had pity on me. I woke up on Superbowl Sunday to a brand new 49ers T shirt on my pillow. It was ugly as sin and 8 sizes too big, but I loved it anyway. I wore that shirt with pride, all the way from California to Wyoming.

Needless to say, it was one of the stranger weekends of my life. A 13 year old girl and some 40 year old well-meaning women who were all looking for God in Anaheim, CA. I think I found God in a 49ers T-shirt.