But inside the garage, between boxes of microscopes and other chemistry equipment, an extraordinary being is hard at work.

His name is Sterling Franklin. He's a 27-year-old dancing sensation.

Franklin is the global record holder in the popular rhythm video game Dance Dance Revolution. He's in the 2008 "Guinness World Records Gamer's Edition" for achieving the highest score for a three-song set on Dance Dance Revolution Eighth Mix. He scored 487,065,870 points out of a possible 490 million points.

And he's now waiting to hear back from Twin Galaxies, a respected organization that records official video game records, about a new record he claims to have achieved for a five-song set.

"I'm a completionist and a perfectionist," says Franklin, drenched in sweat after a 30-minute warm-up.

In Dance Dance Revolution, or DDR as gamers call it, players stand on a dance platform and hit colored arrows with their feet to musical and visual cues on the screen. Players are judged on how well they meet the cues and can dance at different levels of difficulty.

The game started in Japanese arcades around 1998. After it was adapted for home video game consoles, the dance machine's popularity skyrocketed with teenagers worldwide.

Franklin wasn't much of a gamer growing up. His teen years were spent attending church, joining 15 clubs, playing sports and studying hard at Apex High School.

But in 2004, when he was 21, he happened upon the game. It was on display at the N.C. State Fair.

A friend challenged Franklin to give it a go.

"I thought I'd be good at it," he said.

But he wasn't.

He played at standard difficulty and was awful - publicly awful.

Franklin, who stands 6-foot-2 with a lanky gamers' build and boyish grin, became fixated with the idea of perfecting each song.

Reaching for a record

In his final years as a student at N.C. State University, he headed to Crabtree Valley Mall in Raleigh to practice song sets. He'd go on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, when the arcade was dead and distractions were minimal.

He logged in to different DDR record-keeping websites and vowed to exceed the highest scores.

And he did.

"He wouldn't quit until he beat you," said Steven Reyes, Franklin's best friend since the second grade. "He always tried to one up you, like, 'Top that, man!' 'Beat that, man!' It got frustrating after awhile."

With his mastery has come minor fame. On YouTube, videos of Franklin - who is known on the Internet as "djsterf"- have reached millions of viewers.

But contradiction also accompanies Franklin's success. Franklin is an ordained minister, which can complicate things. "Some Christians don't approve of dancing because it can lead to other things," he says.

But he's quick to point out: "David danced before the Lord, so I don't think it's a bad thing."

He's cocky about his achievements. But he is humble about their relevance.

"We're supposed to be in the world, not of the world," he says. "People have hobbies."

He banters like a teenage boy. But then drops scriptural citations as conversational asides.

"I sense that the Lord is calling me, and I like DDR," he said.

And there's the thing about dancing - for real, with a real person, real music, real dance floor.

"I'm fine with dancing," he says. "But having eight or nine girls to dance with seems a little bit loose."

'The dancing preacher'

Franklin says he was called to serve God at an early age.

He was ordained two years ago as a non-denominational minister after attending Trinity Evangelical Divinity School in Deerfield, Ill.

He doesn't drink, swear or listen to much music.

To Franklin, the game isn't dancing in the traditional sense.

And he can use the game to spread the gospel.

Franklin has played around 50 tournaments but doesn't like to travel out-of-state unless it's tied to an evangelical event.

He's not always happy about it. But being "The Dancing Preacher" has given him an extra edge to score sermon engagements - especially those geared toward younger people.

"I would rather just preach, to be honest," he says. "But with the dancing preacher, I get to do what I love both ways."

He doesn't overshoot the connection between DDR and Christianity, however. "It's like in Colossians 3, your audience is the Lord, and remember, He's watching all the time, so you want to do your best," he says. "That's pretty much the bulk of how I connect the two if I preach about it."

Watching Franklin play at the highest level is a spiritual experience in itself.

"He's the most consistent player I've seen," said Nick Denty, a longtime competitor of Franklin's based in Rocky Mount, N.C. "The perfect window on a step is just a few small milliseconds, and he's usually very consistent with getting perfect scores."

In an average five-song set, Franklin estimates he takes about 2,400 steps. After a few songs, Franklin's gray t-shirt is soaking.

Norway officially recognizes DDR as a sport.

Along with basketball, it's one of his primary forms of exercise. Franklin bought his own $2,200 two-player arcade game a few years ago. It's in the garage of his parents' house in Cary, where he lives and trains. "If people say I can't do something, I want to prove them wrong," Franklin says.

His next challenge

His biggest challenge at the moment is finding a place to preach. It's been tough in this economy - especially for a young, single man. Many churches are looking for pastors with families.

It's putting pressure Franklin to find himself a wife, a lifelong dance partner. Achieving gaming glory can often come with its share of fan-girls - but those aren't really the kind of ladies Franklin is looking for.

"Unless she's into games and godly," he says, "I'm not really interested."