Home Office | Chris (above, at left) catches a moment with Seth in their room.

Two hundred books are stacked upon each other on one side of Chris Hruska and Seth Watson's dorm room. But the two Wayne State College seniors don't plan to read any of them. What would two college kids do with 200 copies of the Christian apologetics paperback More Than A Carpenter? Seth brainstormed that they would make a great gift to the college's professors. But until the books get distributed, they'll remain in this white-tiled, three-man room—sometimes a dorm room, sometimes the headquarters for Campus Crusade for Christ at WSC.

The student organization has no full-time staff members on the campus in Wayne, Neb. Leading the group is just a handful of students.

The stacked books along the wall aren't the only things potentially teetering at WSC. So is the hope that Chris, Seth and other Campus Crusade students will be able to reach 2,750 undergraduate peers with the life-changing truth of Jesus Christ. They can't give their full effort to the task—they are students first. And how will they know what to do?

First, they want people to know who they are.

So last fall, Campus Crusade raised eyebrows at WSC by holding a kegger—one flowing with root beer. Not surprisingly, the event drew a large crowd of more than 200 students. The Wayne State police caught wind of the party, and soon four officers showed up to investigate. "We assumed it was an alcohol-related party," says Lieutenant Phil Shear. "That assumption proved wrong, pleasantly so."

The rest of the campus heard about the incident from an article in the student paper. Attendance swelled at the Campus Crusade weekly meetings. Chris and his friends hope that events like the root-beer kegger become more than just fun and games, creating opportunities for spiritual conversations with their peers.

Another event created by Campus Crusade students is their annual powder-puff football game.

	Hang Time | Campus Crusade students reach out to non-Christians in an annual powder-puff football competition.

On a clear afternoon ripped by biting wind, Halie Hughes asked her freshman roommate, Trish Buss, to come play football with some other girlfriends. The big moment of the game came when Trish rushed down the field through the opposing team virtually untouched—and scored.

Halie and others have been grasping for opportunities to talk with Trish about a personal relationship with God, and the female bonding of a good game of powder-puff was great ground.

At the heart of the students' efforts to be known is the desire to make Christ known. That is why at the cafeteria, referred to by students as "The Gag," Chris introduced himself to a group of Sudanese guys eating by themselves. Chris invited them to play basketball and then to a weekly Bible study.

"Hey, Bol!" Chris yells across the campus amid students rushing to class. "We missed you at Bible study last night. How's studying for finals going?"

Every Wednesday night, Chris, Bol and seven other Sudanese young men grab a seat on a dorm bed, a chair or dresser for the study. Topics range from relationships to how believers should handle drinking.

Each week, 25 Campus Crusade Bible studies such as this one take place across the WSC campus. All are led by students. Today, the group boasts an average of 120 students involved, making it the largest student organization on campus. And they do it without the daily help of full-time Campus Crusade staff members.

Greta Smith, a senior, doesn't see that as a detriment: "We love to run things. Being student-led allows us each to grow. It's not someone else's ministry to us."

But growth doesn't happen without pain. These student leaders have learned how to face and fix problems when they arise.

For instance, last spring, the co-presidents determined the health of the group was declining due to division and lack of communication. Additionally, some people weren't taking responsibility with their roles.

So changes were made, albeit not easily. Such decisions are precarious because all are peers—those in authority and those who hold no position. They pared down from a previous leadership team of 20 to a team of six, including Seth and Chris.

Instead of each leader being in charge of an event, they were now in charge of mentoring people who mentor others. Chris moved from being a leader of evangelism to meeting with eight Bible-study leaders weekly.

Phil Esslinger, a sophomore, is one of the eight guys Chris meets with weekly. One afternoon, Phil squeezed 10 ketchup packets next to the french fries he and Chris were sharing at a table in the student center. He looked up at Chris, baseball hat low on his forehead, eyes barely visible.

Public Faith | In front of Pile Hall, a dormitory, Chris Hruska and Phil Esslinger unashamedly pray together for their campus.

"We took out people's trash last week. They couldn't believe it," Phil said, grinning, referring to his Bible study's creative effort to reach out to students.

"That's great, bro," said Chris, looking years older than Phil with his full-blown beard. "Are you doing OK finding subjects for your Bible studies, Phil?" He dug into the fries. "Do you need any help with the upcoming ones?"

"Yeah, I'm OK," Phil responded.

Chris and Phil talked about the study and the guys he's leading, as well as Phil's relationship with his girlfriend. Finally, Chris challenged Phil to pray about how he'll serve in the organization next year.

Looking back, Chris' life couldn't have been more different in 2001, before he arrived at WSC. The 6-foot-1-inch almost-freshman had been breaking into cars and stealing radios. He didn't need the stereos or the money; it was simply a way to vent the anger about the recent deaths of his stepdad and foster brother.

As he drove his rusty Buick toward Wayne, he felt lost and confused. He turned off the radio and prayed for the first time in years. He asked God to change his life and bring someone who could point him to God.

The first person he met on campus was the student president of Campus Crusade. He began inviting Chris to a Bible study and Campus Crusade's weekly meeting. Chris noticed a difference in the lives of those students and finally got up the courage to ask what it was.

It was Jesus. He knew immediately that this was his answer, too, and made a decision to begin a personal relationship with Christ.

Now, four years later, Chris wants other students to find what he found. He's also looking at the future.

"I'm so scared because, after me, the whole first generation is gone," Chris says.

The students know they have to keep the future in mind. They need to be sure the next generation is prepared to reach WSC for Christ, because when the leaders graduate, things could fizzle out. History proves it: Only six years ago, Campus Crusade at WSC had nearly died out. The group was relaunched in 2000 with a handful of students.

And tonight it's that next generation that Chris and Anne Rutten, a leadership teammate, want to help train in how to share their faith.

Chris, with an 18-credit-hour load this semester, finished typing up the Thursday-night training notes just two hours ago. In spite of finals next week, 11 students arrive. Chris and Anne co-teach the hourlong session, providing opportunities for students to act out evangelism scenarios with each other, applying the newly learned tools.

The training ends, and Chris returns to his room in Bowen Hall—a place that few seniors apart from him and Seth call home. But Chris knows it's exactly where he needs to be: next door or down the hall from someone who needs Jesus. Someone just like him four years ago.

You can contact the writer at Angie.Bring@ccci.org.