Time Together | Mike (above) and his wife, Lee Anne, try not to let ministry crowd out marriage and family. They escape now and then for a bed-and-breakfast getaway, sometimes taking their teenagers along.

When Mike and Lee Anne Sorgius (rhymes with "gorgeous") moved to Gainesville, Fla., 17 years ago, the University of Florida was commonly called the "Berkeley of the Southeast." The radical left dominated campus politics, cults like Hare Krishna recruited students, and some publications--then and now--rated UF one of the top "party schools" in the country.

The young couple had been assigned to direct Campus Crusade for Christ. They found the administration leery of Christian groups, though, and faculty members openly mocked Christianity.

A student told Mike that his philosophy professor had asked if anybody believed in Christ. The Campus Crusade student was the only one to raise his hand. "By the end of this course," said the prof, "that won't be the case. My objective is to disprove your belief."

After hearing several such stories, Mike decided something had to be done. Professors can influence students for good or for bad, he realized, so he and Lee Anne turned toward reaching professors. Today Mike serves as national field director of Christian Leadership Ministries (Campus Crusade's outreach to faculty members).

"We're not happy to sit by and let the forces of darkness be the only voice heard on campus," says the one-time atheist. "We'd like to see campuses become places where the Christian world view is looked upon with respect and honored as a viable alternative."

Not everyone at the University of Florida wants Christian professors to talk about their faith, of course. But Mike shrugs off criticism. "Conflict is a part of the game of life," he says. "I enjoy debate and confrontation, and if something looks impossible, it challenges me. Like changing this culture."

In fact, Mike feels so comfortable with conflict he referees high-school soccer in his spare time. Standing amid angry players, shouting coaches and upset parents, he makes calls that bring the game under control. "For me," he says with a grin, "that's fun."

Florida professors find in Mike a winsome spirit. As building-construction prof Rick Coble puts it, "Mike has a warm, infectious charisma. He's always upbeat, and it's neat to work with him."

	Burger Bunch | Mike coordinates a weekly faculty luncheon that meets at Burger King to discuss how professors can integrate their faith with their professions. "[CLM] made me braver and bolder," says Jim Terhune, professor of journalism and communications.

Others have caught Mike's enthusiasm for changing the culture. This year 12 professors and their spouses joined a steering committee to help influence colleagues and students for Christ. Mike and Lee Anne serves as a mentor for them in ministry matters.

"You can't turn your lecture into a pulpit," explains Ron Akers, a leading sociologist and member of the committee, "but in every class I teach, very early on, students know where I stand. You cannot compartmentalize your faith from your professional life, and that's the message Mike has been able to get across to faculty members."

Each week Mike takes that message and sends it out via the "Monday Ministry Minute," an e-mail going to some 350 professors (out of 4,127 faculty members at UF). Last fall one of those messages included ideas on how professors can legally and ethically let their classes know they follow Christ.

Alex Anglerhofer read that e-mail the day before teaching the first session of freshman chemistry. There's no reason I can't do this, he said to himself, and rearranged the first class so he could tell his students he loves Jesus.

A series of newspaper ads Mike developed have helped considerably to influence the culture. The first one, back in 1988, shocked the campus. Nearly 100 faculty members had signed a full-page ad with the words "Jesus is the reason for the season," running across the page. They listed their departments, said they believed in Jesus and declared a willingness to talk with any students who had spiritual questions.

Immediately, angry responses from other faculty members bombarded the professors who signed.

"In this day of science and technology, I can't believe anyone would still believe in God."

"How can any intelligent person believe something so stupid?"

"This isn't even legal!"

But students, at least the Christians, were thrilled to discover faculty members who believed in Christ. And as usual, Mike brushed off the criticism. ("Isn't legal?!" he snorts. "Give me a break--we paid for that ad ourselves!")

Today those ads, signed by nearly 200 profs and running twice a year, are accepted as part of the cultural landscape on campus. They've dented the force of non-Christian faculty members who say nobody of intelligence believes in God, for students see the ads and conclude that educated people can believe in Christ. As a result, they more readily respond to the gospel.

"For somebody who doesn't have [advanced] degrees and who doesn't teach classes," says Ron Akers, the sociologist, "Mike understands the academic world better than anybody I've ever seen. Better than most academics, in fact. He recognizes the intellectual power of people he works with but is not cowed by it."

"I've always felt confident," says Mike, who says he could imagine himself being a general in the Army. ("Someone like Alexander the Great," Lee Anne chimes in.) "I've developed a very positive self-image that is almost impossible to deflate. I could care less what people think of me."

That kind of perspective can be helpful. "You need built-in self-confidence to work with arrogant folks like professors," says George Lebo, an astronomer who speaks quite openly about his faith.

Yet a generous dollop of self-confidence can backfire. "Sometimes Mike comes across as harsh," points out Lee Anne, a blue-eyed blonde. "I help him say things in kinder ways, then he helps me trust God for bigger things."

Back in his college days, one would not have chosen Mike as "Most likely to evangelize professors." As a chemistry major at Purdue, the lanky Hoosier rejected Christianity. It seemed neither reasonable nor rational, nor did it lead to the lifestyle he wanted. "I was enjoying my pagan freedoms of booze and drugs and Playboy magazines," he says, "and I had no intention of giving up those pleasures." Then his two best friends became Christians, and their lives changed before his eyes. One led Mike through an investigative Bible study, resulting in the skeptic yielding to Christ.

A big reader in college (to this day he averages a book every two weeks), Mike devoured the works of Francis Schaeffer and other philosophers. After joining Campus Crusade and working on campus in the United States and abroad, Mike and Lee Anne moved to Gainesville.

There Mike started the Christian Faculty Fellowship, a small group of believers meeting weekly for lunch. As the group grew, it became the heart of his ministry to professors.

"It was a surprise to me just how many dedicated, committed Christian [faculty members] were on this campus," says Ron Akers, one of the first men Mike contacted. "If it weren't for CLM, and Mike Sorgius in particular, we would not have as visible a presence and voice as we now do. People know who we are."

Credible Comments | At The Veritas Forum, students and faculty members find Christianity is intellectually viable. Visiting scholars such as Gary Stanley (above), Ravi Zacharias and Paul Vitz have spoken on topics ranging from intelligent design to the psychology of atheism. "Veritas Forum has had a tremendous impact," says math professor Jed Keesling.

People know who Mike is too. When campus organizations sponsor forums on topics like homosexuality, they often turn to Mike to represent the Christian view.

Perhaps the most significant way Mike has represented the Christian view was to organize Veritas Forum, a strategy that CLM has used to invite nationally known Christian scholars and scientists to campus.

Before the forum, Mike fasted 40 days, asking God to change people's hearts. God answered his prayers, bringing an average of 1,600 people on three consecutive nights to the first one in 1995.

"Mike understood the kind of speakers you had to have," says Ron, "He could speak their language, and he knew how to advertise it to the academic community. Not everyone accepted [the truths of Christ], but those truths were heard in a respectful atmosphere."

Great though the influence of Mike's ministry has been, he sees areas that need improvement. Discipleship, for one. "I realized we'd become a ministry of events and ads," he says, so he is beginning to train professors to reach colleagues in their departments.

"We also want to do a better job of reaching female faculty members," adds Lee Anne.

And while many professors stand up for their faith, plenty of others remain antagonistic. Nevertheless, students notice a difference. "I was encouraged on the first day of class when Dr. Lebo announced he was a Christian," says Heather Tomasillo, a Campus Crusade student majoring in English and political science.

"Then on the last day of class, he gave an optional lecture showing how cosmology supported Christianity. It was the best scientific support of Christianity I have ever heard."

During a discussion after that class, Heather met a fellow student just developing an interest in Christianity. She explained the gospel to her new friend, who turned out to be a new believer looking for other believers, then began teaching her to grow spiritually and tell others of Christ.

More and more professors like Dr. Lebo are opening doors for students like Heather. "Dad is optimistic," says 17-year-old Sarah Sorgius, youngest of Mike's four children. "He believes that as long as you keep at it, you'll get results."

Mike has been keeping at it for a long time now, and the results are beginning to show.