Genghis leaned back into the sofa, his head brushing a red, Oriental rug draped on the wall behind him. Almond-shaped eyes and dark skin drew further attention to his namesake, the infamous warrior who conquered Kazakhstan centuries ago. Tonight, though, the only thing Genghis conquered was a second helping of garlic bread and a hearty plate of spaghetti, American style.

The avid learner had attended a conversational English class taught earlier that week by several Americans visiting a university in Almaty, Kazakhstan. Now he and two friends were guests for dinner at the Americans' apartment.

"I can really relate to the generation here," says Steve Edwards, a tall, gregarious sophomore at Princeton University. "They seem to be very ambitious and very smart." Balancing plates of pasta on their laps, Steve and his four American roommates spoke comfortably with Genghis, Danur and Ali-Beck about movies, politics and philosophers. Someone brought up the subject of suicide, leading to a discussion on the purpose of life. Before the night was over, the young men read together from a Russian translation of the Four Spiritual Laws booklet, from the pages of a famous Kazak philosopher, and from the Bible. It all happened quite naturally.

Eleven men and seven women, most of them in college, lived in the former capital of Almaty for five weeks as part of an international summer project. For the Americans, this short-term mission project forced them to learn relational evangelism—a kind of Central Asian boot camp on how to explain the gospel as a way of life.

For the Kazaks, they learned that Isa—the name given Jesus in the Koran—is not exclusively a Russian god belonging to the Orthodox Church, but the One sent for the whole world. Though most Kazaks speak Russian, 90 percent are nominal Muslims, and they often reject anything to do with the former Soviet Union, of which they were once a part.

English is becoming more and more popular in this Westernized city of nearly 2 million people. During the summer project, the Americans focused on two of the 10 college campuses in Almaty, teaching conversational English for three hours each week. They also spent three hours a week learning Kazak. The rest of their time was mostly devoted to building friendships with people like Genghis, in hopes of sharing the most important part of their lives—Jesus Christ.

Often, the starting point was the conversational English class, advertised in the hallway outside the room as an "English Club." Groups of 20 to 40 Kazak students attended the clubs Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and the subject for conversation varied as wide as the Americans' interests. "American football, swing dancing, rock climbing; they just talk about things they are passionate about," explains David Moles, a Campus Ministry staff member who organized logistics of the summer project. David explains that the subject didn't matter to those wanting to practice the language. "They will get exposed to native English speakers," he says, "which is an incredibly high goal of the Kazak students."

	Now Showing | Sharon Sampson and Max Anderson act out an idiom at an English-club meeting while Geoff Gasperini writes down the slang du jour. Following a skit, a game and a small talk, students divide into discussion groups.

In order to meet that goal in a fun way, the clubs began with a game, followed by a skit illustrating an American idiom, and then a brief lecture about the day's subject. Next, students were divided into discussion groups to practice English.

Though the students ultimately wanted to help develop an ongoing campus ministry, they chose not to talk about their faith during the English Club. That, they felt, was best reserved for other settings.

After class, the Americans scheduled time with Kazak students to tour a local museum, shop at the bazaar, or just have a meal together, like Genghis and his friends did. Sometimes treated like celebrities, the project students needed to be selective about who they spent time with. "If we accepted invitations from everyone, we would just have surface relationships with all of them," says Carrie Guyton, a freckled junior from Princeton.

Theoretically, getting around should have been a cinch for the Americans: the city boasts 132 miles of tram lines and 57 miles of trolley and bus lines. Catching a cab is as easy as wagging two fingers into traffic; even private citizens will usually pick up a passenger for 100 tenge (approximately 75 cents). But add the language barrier, and you've got what project member Ginger Vertican referred to as "the Ponce De Leon factor"—the thrill of exploration.

Some of the thrill was softened, thanks to three American volunteers who had lived in Almaty for one year. They had come on a short-term international (STINT) project with Campus Crusade and left one week after the project students arrived. Before going, they passed along a few Russian phrases, as well as some practical advice—including how to avoid accidentally ordering horsemeat, a Kazak specialty. Most of all, the STINTers passed along a desire to see God work in Kazakhstan.

However, several team members felt disappointed when evangelism did not quickly translate into results. Many students, in fact, did not see anyone receive Christ during the entire project. They were briefed about this beforehand and reminded by the STINTers, but the Americans learned firsthand that Kazak students were slow to respond to the gospel, requiring a foundation of trust, time and true friendship.

Marguerite Ethridge, a recent graduate of Virginia Tech, explained the attitude adjustment made by the Americans. "I need to be abiding in God," she says, "not worrying about how many people I get to share [the gospel] with or how many will accept Christ after talking with me. That is up to God to decide. He's been working long before I got here."

Cliff Notes | The three and one-half-hour bus ride into Chayn Canyon revealed another side of Kazakhstan, as compared with the plush, green vistas back in Almaty. A river at the botton added to the feeling that this was a smaller version of the Grand Canyon.

God continued moving while they were there too. During the fourth week, half of the Americans invited their Kazak friends on a three and one-half-hour bus trip to Charyn Canyon, near the border of China. Wanting to see more of Kazakhstan than the green city of Almaty, the project students also hoped the bus ride might create possibilities for discussions about Jesus Christ. Seven Americans and 15 Kazak students pooled their money and rented a bus for the trip.

Thirty minutes into the ride, a Kazak student named Danyar demanded that the driver stop the bus. Danyar had come with a friend, who had suddenly discovered she'd grabbed her sister's keys that morning and needed to return them immediately. Several Americans explained to Danyar and his friend that the bus—which had already gotten off to a late start—would not wait. Yet, as he ducked into a taxi car, Danyar defiantly screamed back, "Twenty minutes!"

The bus lingered. More than one hour later, Geoff Gasperini, a sophomore at Princeton, decided to leave the bus and stay by the side of the road so he could explain to his Kazak friend that the bus had indeed waited but eventually left.

Although Geoff had arguably looked forward to visiting the canyon more than anyone, he gave up the trip to display love and forgiveness to his friend Danyar. One of the Kazak students said he wanted a friend like Geoff; an American explained that they could know God personally, which was even better. All at once, the Americans and Kazak students began discussing the surprising parallel between Jesus' gracious sacrifice for our sins and Geoff's willingness to give up the trip for someone undeserving. "It was the most clear illustration of the gospel I had ever heard," recalls Chris Mueller, a senior at Liberty University, "and recognizing what God was doing drove me to tears." Geoff never saw the canyon, but the experience proved a powerful lesson of God's grace to everyone.

"God determined he would die for [the Kazak students] long before these five weeks ever occurred," says Ginger. "But what a privilege to be a part of what He did!"

One week, Andy Carter, a visiting Campus Crusade staff member, gave the group another reality check. "You all have been ministered to more than anyone you have ministered to," explained Andy. Quietly, everyone hoped he was wrong. They had helped lay groundwork for the college ministry and sown seeds of the gospel in the lives of many. But everyone also knew they would never be the same.

"When you're standing in America looking out, it looks like the whole world has heard the gospel," says Jonathan Torrence, a sophomore at Virginia Community College. "But when you're standing in Kazakhstan, you realize there are people out there who haven't heard the gospel."

"That are willing to listen," adds his roommate Chris.

Jonathan nods his head and smiles a boyish, toothy grin. "Yeah, very willing to listen."