"It is impossible to bring the busload of Americans into this prison," said the prison guard in Serpukhov, Russia, about 60 miles south of Moscow. "We had a surprise inspection."

"But you knew we were coming," protested Eugene Rumyantsev. "The paperwork and approvals were completed months ago."

The 59-year-old Russian pastor tucked his chin into his down jacket and strode down the snow-covered sidewalk to the bus where 30 Americans waited. They'd come to Russia with Operation Carelift '98--a mission trip organized and led by the Josh McDowell Ministry of Campus Crusade for Christ--and braved temperatures of 15 below zero to bring humanitarian aid and the gospel. They had come too far to give up.

Eugene put on his tall, furry hat and headed back to the prison. "They have come all this way," insisted the 6-foot-3-inch pastor. "They have taken time away from their work and family to bring a very important message." Still the guard didn't budge.

Back on the bus, the Carelift participants asked God to change the prison director's heart. Finally, after several verbal rounds, the director allowed five men to come inside.

Waiting at the Serpukhov prison is commonplace to Eugene. Once an inmate there himself, the Baptist pastor now brings a message of hope to those locked within its doors. And for the past four years, Operation Carelift has enabled Eugene to better meet physical needs, thus putting faces, hands and feet to the God he talks about.

The tangible expression of God's love makes Eugene's message come alive. "You have to understand that the Russian people don't believe what is said," says George Law, vice president of Russian ministries and chairman of the Association for Spiritual Renewal in Russia. "Russians believe what they can see up close--they have been lied to so much over the last 75 years. There are places you can go for 1,000 miles and find no church."

"I came from a town without a church in the Far East," says Vera Petrova, a cleaning woman at the Serpukhov Boarding School for the mentally impaired. "Eugene helped me know who God is and introduced me to Christ. I'm grateful because he opened my eyes."

Not everyone shares Vera's enthusiasm. Because Eugene's not a member of the state church, he gets a lot of cold shoulders when he tries to proclaim Christ. "Here in town people don't accept Baptists," says Dina Korolova, a teacher of German and history at the Serpukhov Tuberculosis Hospital. "Carelift has helped people accept Eugene more. He brings pens, notebooks and vitamins."

Now, rather than seeing Eugene as a lone leader of a sect, people view him as connected to a larger organization of people who care. Some of the places that once gave him a cold shoulder now welcome him with open arms.

Take the TB hospital. "Last year Carelift brought food, pens, notebooks, clothes and medicine," says teacher Anna Zavgordonyaya. "Now it isn't forbidden for them to come tell the children about Christ. We even have a special Sunday-school class here."

"Without Carelift I was limited in where I could go," says Eugene. "Only with Carelift could I visit sick children at the TB clinic."

Visiting the sick, imprisoned and orphaned is at the heart of Carelift. Since 1992, more than 2,500 participants have delivered $17.5 million in medicine, school supplies and clothes to children and needy families in a society still struggling to find its way after communism. "Carelift has a three-fold objective," says Josh McDowell. "To meet physical and spiritual needs of Russians. To come alongside existing ministries and lend credibility. And to stretch the participants."

Although Russians are historically resistant to change and leery of foreigners, those touched by Carelift welcome the humanitarian aid. "In our society foreigners come to take something from us," says Victor Dudin, an ex-convict who received a "Carepack" while in a prison up north and is now a student at Campus Crusade's New Life Bible College. "This group comes to give. The Americans sacrificed something to come."

These sacrifices heighten the impact of the message. "They traveled all the way across the ocean to tell you something important," said Eugene as he introduced one bus group to boys at the Kashira Boys School. Carelift participants handed out bracelets to wide-eyed children and explained the gospel using the colored beads. Then, the boys huddled around Americans to see photographs of home and family. Russian interpreters translated the boys' questions about pets and trees, as well as the participants' own stories of how they met Christ and how He changed their lives.

"Eugene invited us to listen to Americans who came again and again," says Lena Bayeva, librarian at the Serpukhov Boarding School. "Now that I have received Christ, I know why He died and my problems don't seem as important. Eugene also brought us books to help build our library."

Providing books, Christian literature and school supplies helps Eugene continue to visit state institutions struggling to provide food, medicine and supplies on $1 per month per child. Eugene meets for Bible study with those who receive Christ. Eventually he hopes to equip mature believers in each institution who will carry on without him.

One woman is following in his footsteps by attending New Life Bible College. "I've known Eugene for seven years and he's very attentive and helpful," says Anna Zavgordonyaya. "But he is too busy to visit all the places. He's very pressed for time so he doesn't have time for himself."

Eugene's closest disciple, a physicist named Vadim, started a daughter church after serving as deacon alongside him for many years. "He's energetic," says Vadim. "I don't know how he gets it all done. I don't know when he sleeps."

Although Eugene claims he sleeps, he learned early on that every day is precious. Born in 1939 to Christian parents, Eugene was the middle child of three boys. He barely remembers his father, shot for following Christ under Stalin's Communist regime in 1942. His older brother died of malnutrition and his mother worked in a factory to feed the other two boys. At 14, Eugene got work in a tool factory to help provide for the family.

For recreation they huddled next to a radio listening to the Voice of America. This landed 15-year-old Eugene in prison. Since he was a minor they couldn't slap him with the 10-year sentence for enemies of the state. Instead the KGB held him for several months, and then, upon release, watched and threatened him.

Undeterred by this harassment, Eugene again tried to find Voice of America. Instead he heard singing on what is now Trans World Radio. After the worship songs, he listened to a preacher and realized that Christ died for sinners, including him. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he knelt by the radio, prayed and received Christ. He got involved in the underground church.

Shortly after, the KGB showed up at the tool factory and asked Eugene to sign a paper stating that Baptists were a sect that gathered together to sacrifice children and eat them. When he refused to sign the paper and renounce Christ, the KGB threw him back in jail. He slept in a cell with a convicted murderer who carried a knife. "I never knew what would happen," says Eugene. "I went to bed not knowing if I might die, but I felt the nearness of God in a way that I have never felt since."

Shortly before Eugene could be tried as an adult, Baptists were given some religious freedom. After his release from prison, Eugene served as deacon in the church. Yet the flak continued--for the following six months someone came to their flat each day at the time of the Christian radio broadcast, shut off the radio and sat in the apartment until the broadcast ended. The KGB trailed the young man and threatened to take his job away.

In 1995 Eugene became the pastor of Baptist Evangelic Church. He attended Campus Crusade's New Life Bible College and volunteered with Athletes in Action/ Prison ministry. When he heard about Carelift, he immediately started working to distribute humanitarian aid in the institutions he already visited. This outside help boosted his credibility and gave him a tangible way to show God's love.

This year, changes in the customs procedures kept thousands of Carepacks--containing school supplies, medicine and a letter from a family who packed it in the Lancaster, PA, warehouse--stuck in a Russian warehouse for months. In coming years, outside help like Carelift may be curbed altogether due to a new law designed to keep foreign religious groups out of Russia.

Whatever the future holds, Eugene will continue to bring the gospel into institutions and the prison where he once was confined. Putting school supplies, medicine and food into the hands of Russian children and prisoners has strengthened his ministry. "Carelift uplifted me and improved my status as a citizen," says Eugene. "In Russian culture people appreciate what you can do through possibilities in your life. Carelift showed me more was possible."

For more information about how to participate in Operation Carelift, call Laneta Collier at (972) 907-1000, ext. 1336.