Ten figures stand in a circle inside a Japanese-style penthouse. The lights are low. A white stormtrooper huddles beside a large, orange cat, who bows his head and clears his throat.

“Father God, just thank you for this opportunity to go and reach out to people who need you,” said the cat, in the voice of Curt Curtis, a Christian missionary in his 60s from Texas.

The room is virtual, but the prayer is not.

“Guide us and direct us to people who have a need in their heart,” Curtis continues.

For three years, Christian missionaries with the evangelical organization Cru have gathered every Friday in VRChat, a popular social platform where millions of people from around the world interact through avatars resembling anime characters, animals, robots and humans. Users can explore thousands of virtual worlds where they talk, flirt, play games and, in the missionaries’ case, spread the gospel.

As more people build friendships and spend significant portions of their lives in virtual spaces, Cru’s missionaries are adapting familiar evangelistic practices to reach them.

“At first we were like, what is it like here? Who comes here? Why are they here?” said Frank Kuligowski, the digital strategist for Cru who spearheaded the idea of Cru missionaries buying VR headsets. “How can we bless them and, you know, love them and listen to them?”

THE SWEET SPOT

After praying, the missionaries pull up their virtual maps and choose a world to enter, which Kuligowski described as an art of its own — 20 users is the sweet spot, he said, enough activity without chaos.

Once inside a world, the missionaries split up and seek out small groups chatting in quieter corners. They begin casually. “Cool avatar,” Kuligowski might say. “Did you make it?” After some conversation, they gradually turn to religion: “Is faith part of your life at all?” or “I was reading in my Bible earlier today.”

Nic, a 30-year-old social worker from The Netherlands, met the missionaries during one of their Friday outings. He declined to give his last name because he prefers to remain anonymous online — part of what attracted him to VRChat in the first place. In the virtual world, he appears as a small, floating cat.

“You guys are really calm,” Nic told them when they first met in a Japanese garden world. “Just listening.”

After that encounter, Nic joined the missionaries for several Friday outings and traveled with them to VRChurch. He said he considered himself Christian largely because he had been raised that way. When he mentioned that he had begun using oracle cards to make decisions, one Cru missionary sent him an article on Discord that cited a Bible passage warning against divination.

A PLACE TO DISCUSS

Nic eventually stopped joining the missionaries, but said he appreciated having a place to discuss religion.

“It’s nice having people to talk to about spiritual in-depth things online,” he told RNS. “It’s pretty rare in VR.”

In retelling one of his success stories, Kuligowski describes a busy spaceship world, where he and a colleague were talking to a woman from China who said she wished she could go to church. They invited her to a virtual church, and as the three of them stepped through, a fourth user, who had quietly been listening in, slipped in behind them. That encounter eventually led the stowaway to a virtual church service and a connection with a real-life campus ministry.

“That’s been one of my great memories,” Kuligowski said.

Founded in 1951 as Campus Crusade for Christ, Cru has traditionally focused on evangelism and discipleship among college students and other young people, but in recent years has ventured into video games and, now, virtual reality.

TRAINING BEGAN

Heidi Campbell, a Texas A&M University professor who studies digital religion, said efforts like Cru’s date to the 1990s, when the Billy Graham Foundation began training Christians to start conversations in online chat rooms.

“It’s the work of seeing these digital spaces as, like, the new religious frontier for evangelism in many respects,” Campbell said.

The missionaries who join Cru’s weekly meetings range from Geoffery Powell, who has logged thousands of hours in VRChat, to Curtis, who said he rarely uses the platform outside of evangelization.

Powell, a 28-year-old multimedia artist and computer scientist, said he was drawn to VRChat for its imaginative potential, allowing users to create “whatever worlds or characters you want.”

PLAGUES OF VR

But after spending seven years on VRChat, Powell came to see a community often plagued by loneliness, alcoholism, suicidal ideation and explicit sexual activity, including using the space to share pornography and have virtual group sex. In recent years, claims of sexual harassment and children gaining access to virtual reality strip clubs have made headlines.

“As I got to know the community more, I really started to feel the hurt,” said Powell, who helped Cru members navigate VRChat in the group’s early days and remains its resident technical expert. “I knew that the people in VRChat were real people that God wanted me to reach.”

For Stewart Freeman, connecting with a pastor in VRChat changed everything in his life.

After a six-year relationship ended, Freeman fell into what he calls his “lowest point” and began spending his nights in VRChat — logging more than 10,000 hours overall, often playing from after work until 5 a.m. He said he threw himself into the world’s darker side.

“I was juggling relationships with different women in that space,” he said. “And chasing every way that the space would try and claim that it would have a reason for hope.”

‘HOME WORLD’

That changed when he met Jason Poling, a California pastor from Cornerstone Church who started visiting him in his VRChat “home world,” the private world each user creates for themselves, to read the Bible and walk through Scripture with him every week.

“As crazy as it sounds, God used virtual reality to call someone into that space to lay out the gospel in its fullness,” said Freeman, who grew up Christian but said he only called himself that because his parents did. “It was the first time where I believed the gospel.”

After being discipled in VR, he said he sensed God calling him to do that work full time, eventually selling his business and moving to Orlando, Fla., to join Cru’s Jesus Film Project and help other people in VR find God.

“One of the main things that’s nearest and dearest to my heart is stepping into the darkest of those places, of getting to know the individuals in that space, growing in relationship with them, and then pointing them to the answer that they’re searching for,” Freeman said.