Dancing professionally in New York, even as a Rockette, isn't all costumes and curtain calls. Factor in generous amounts of sweat and determination.

"There's the tough part of dancing--10 a.m. to 6 p.m. in character shoes everyday, six shows a day, 200 shows for the Christmas season," says Cheryl Cutlip, a professional dancer for seven years, describing her disciplined lifestyle. "Sometimes you hardly see your bed." And often you're misunderstood.

"I'm just this small-town girl from North Carolina. No one would ever know me walking across the street. But when you put on a costume and stand beside Fergie, everyone thinks you're a star. It's fun, but it is what it is. When the show's over you throw your hair in a ponytail, you go home and the lights go out."

But Cheryl labors to ensure that God's light isn't extinguished among these artists. She's helping it burn brighter, one star at a time.

Cutting through Manhattan traffic headed for a publicity gig in Times Square, Cheryl discusses spirituality with Rhonda and another Christian dancer named Ann. Rhonda remarks that she knows there's more to God, but she's unsure what. The gig, and the spiritual conversations, last a month.

"When Rhonda heard the Four Spiritual Laws, she absorbed every page," Cheryl explains, her blue eyes sparkling. "It was as if she knew it, but had never known it. When it gets to that one sentence [that God uses], the turning point for someone understanding the gospel, it's as if something crashes on the floor. It's like shaking hell."

For Rhonda, it helped that Cheryl and Ann were both dancers. After all, they were just like her. "Maybe five years ago I would have thought, Christians, who are they? Aren't they those people preaching on the street?" Rhonda says. "But to see people my age who are dancers and also Christians helped me see it's different than I thought."

But certainly dangers exist in sharing your faith on the job, like seeing that person again tomorrow. Others witness whether or not your actions match your words. "When you're in certain environments you can tell people about Christ and tell them about salvation and then run away, hoping something miraculous happens," Cheryl explains. "But in your workplace you're forced to be in people's lives on a regular basis." Little room exists for Cheryl to run from the 35 others in the troupe. On the kick line, dancers perform three inches apart.

Telling co-workers about Jesus is a familiar concept to Cheryl. She understands firsthand the implications. When Cheryl, then 19, found herself away from home and dancing professionally for the first time, a fellow dancer introduced her to Christ.

"She finally enticed me to go to a Dallas Holm concert at her church," Cheryl says. "During the concert this big screen came down with a picture of Jesus. I remember seeing Jesus' picture and thinking, I haven't seen that in a long time." That night Cheryl invited Christ into her heart.

Dancers understand the love of Christ the same as anyone else--when you speak their language. And it's best spoken by those on the inside. "You live, eat and breathe the dance world," explains this 26-year-old woman who's danced since she was three. "It's all you think about and all you talk about. You talk about auditions, you talk about rehearsals, you talk about injuries."

Still, it can be awkward: "When it comes to really being honest with someone, sitting down with them and saying, 'Let's talk about real things,' it's never easy. When you look them in the eye you have to have the love of Christ."

It was uncomfortable for both Cheryl and another dancer when Cheryl tried talking to her colleague about Christ. She asked the other woman if she could talk to her about something important after rehearsal and the awkwardness grew. "She stalled and stalled and went and showered," Cheryl recalls. "She wasn't going to come out, and I knew it. I thought, She doesn't want to hear."

On a piece of paper Cheryl wrote a note: "This is really hard for me to bring up. I hope that it didn't make you feel uncomfortable. If you ever want to talk about these things, let me know." She left the note and a copy of someone's testimony she carried in her purse.

"She's never responded," says Cheryl, "and I don't know if she ever read the testimony. But maybe in five years she's going to say, 'Remember that thing you wanted to talk about?'"

Cheryl admits she dreams big for the professional dancers of New York: "My dream is that the entire dance community would be a witness for Jesus Christ, or at least that believers would be the majority, instead of the minority." And she keeps God's love shining brightly, all the while working to make the dream a reality.

"Every year we multiply. I'm praying that dancers keep coming to Him."

Currently Cheryl is producing a video, Project: Dance, that seeks to reconcile the church and the dance community. To obtain a copy call (212) 472-9841.

Christina Creutz, a former Worldwide Challenge writer, currently studies photography at Pratt Institute in New York City.