It seems that every movie I watch develops a deeper craving within me for real, true adventure. After watching the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy, I am convinced that my mission in life is to traverse the rolling hills and cavernous cliffs of the world, slaying evil orcs in the name of justice. I finish watching “Braveheart” with the startling realization that my shirt is ripped halfway-off and my face is somehow smeared with war paint. “FREEDOM!” I yell—though from what I do not know. If you told me there was an ancient relic hidden amongst a tribe of primal cannibals, I would put on my fedora, grab my whip, and ask, “Which way?” as the Indiana Jones theme song trumpeted in the background.
So, why is this? What is it in a person that yearns to live in the middle of some great adventure, some epic tale? And, to ask the more important question, is it even possible for that desire to be fulfilled? Are there any grand opportunities for adventure in the average-person’s life?
At my ripe young age, I’ve come to the realization that the closest I will ever come to wielding a sword will be when I butter bread at the dinner table. My great stallion is a 1997 Nissan Altima and my majestic valleys are asphalt highways. Sure, these thoughts are immediately discouraging. Somehow we have a yearning for a great adventure—some great journey in life—but seem unable to fulfill that desire. Why is that? Does an opportunity for adventure even exist for each person?
C.S. Lewis, brilliant thinker and author, famously described the ‘argument of desire’ as one possible answer. He argued that our instinctive desires are usually good indicators of things that truly exist. For instance, if we are starving, we desire food. Though we may not get food, the hunger nonetheless points to something that definitely exists—namely, food. I think he would agree that this logic can be applied to our current predicament. If we crave real adventure—a truly epic journey—the assumption must be that such an opportunity is real!
If you believe in a loving, creating God, you must believe he didn’t create empty natural desires that have no potential for fulfillment; you must believe he wouldn’t create you to yearn for great adventure while neglecting to create experiences to satisfy that craving. To believe otherwise would be to envision a cruel and senseless God. On the other hand, if you don’t believe in God, it seems rather odd that such desires would have evolved by themselves.
Considering all of the scenarios, the best data we have seems to point to a purposeful longing. Since I yearn to be in the midst of a great quest, an exciting story must exist with a role reserved uniquely for me. We must keep in mind though that just because the adventure exists doesn’t necessarily mean we have entered into it. The hungry man may still starve even though the food he desires is real. So going from that premise, how can I enter into the adventure that must already exist?
I’ve realized that the main problem I’ve had in finding some true adventure has been my failure to truly articulate what the longings of my heart point towards. More simply, I’ve branded my yearnings as desires for “adventure”—which is correct—but then have also brought along many incomplete images of it. I’ve collected many icons in my mind of what ‘adventure’ should be: the gallant knight saving the oppressed damsel, the hero who treks mountains and valleys on a mission to save all of civilization, swashbuckling voyages across treacherous waters, or the reckless explorer who seems to always be in some dangerous situation before miraculously escaping.
I’ve realized that these false images of true adventure are actually holding me back from realizing the grand tale I’m already living.
The truth is that each of us is already in the midst of a magnificent adventure. However, we may not immediately recognize our story as one in that genre. Some would look at their lives and see a melancholy drama at best; maybe even a soap opera. Others would see horror. However, I believe that each of our stories is charged with adventure, though we usually are too blind to recognize it as such.
As a Christian, I believe that Jesus came partly to cure us of this ignorance. He claimed to bring us life, and “bring it to the full” (John 10:10). This full life must include adventure.
These adventures, grand as they are, remain hidden to most. They lie dormant, not waiting to be birthed, but waiting to be noticed.
As a Christian, but especially as a human, I must embrace the adventure that saturates my existence.
This is a little taste of how I see the adventure of my own life:
Waking up in the morning, I find myself incredibly tired. People describe getting out of bed as a ‘struggle’, and I can usually relate. After rolling off the side and blindly throwing on some clothes, I open the front door to begin a bleary jog under the dark morning sky. Simple as these actions may seem, the greater picture would show me being immediately drawn into an adventure narrative. The beginning of every new day brings with it a choice: should I get out of bed or not? Knowing that the right thing, the just thing, is to sacrifice my laziness and tiredness, I have to decide each morning to roll out and begin my jog. Stepping across the threshold of the door is in itself a small victory, the result of a short but real conflict, a small battle won. I think it’s entirely accurate that people often describe waking up as a ‘struggle’; this is recognition of adventure.
Each hero in every adventure is faced with this internal question of initiation. Bilbo Baggins muses that sitting in his comfortable home in the Shire is very pleasing, but a step out the door would be to embrace a much higher, exciting calling. William Wallace questions whether the freedom he desires is worth risking his life for. Even Jesus questions in the Garden of Gethsemane whether or not he should begin the adventure that will lead to his death. Adventure enters every day with an invitation to begin.
The momentum of my initial choice to embark on an adventurous day follows me along as I go to work. After powering on the computer, I scan my to-do list, erecting a plan of action for the day. There is great comfort in the orderliness of my list. But, as I work my way through the daily projects, I am interrupted by bombarding crisis items—unplanned tasks that demand to be finished immediately, items that weren’t on my list. This persistent chaos, though mental it may be, is quite evident. Conflict enters my day in the office and hovers until the end.
Now, you can choose to view the muddle of a workday as long and boring, or you can purposefully squint to see the grand story being written. At the end of the day, as the clock strikes 5:00 pm, I take a deep breath and reflect on the many battles and trials I’ve just emerged from. Cunning solutions were devised. Hopeless tasks were somehow completed. I was forced to rely on others to help complete assignments. And through it all, victory was on the side of justice. At the end of the day, every thing was somehow righted and complete.
Where some see tasks checked on a to-do list, I see battles that required discipline, patience, and creativity. Where some see co-workers helping each other, I see charity in a messy, yet clear, form. In the face of constant chaos, calmness and serenity were birthed. In the midst of focused ambition, the selfless help offered to co-workers bred mercy and love.
Once home, the greatest adventures of my day begin. For unlike any before, these quests require sacrifice. I believe there is rarely a greater battle in a working husband’s life than to embrace the sacrifice of coming home. After a long, tiring day at work, walking through the threshold of your home is an incredible opportunity, a great call. With that entrance comes the option to take one of two paths.
The first, and easier, path is to shun all others in the family and retreat into selfish solitude. This is the listless adventure many choose. It is simple and requires nothing but selfishness.
The second path is what I consider to be the clearest invitation to adventure during all of my day. This is where I hear the call to manhood beckoning—the call to fight the onslaught of voices that encourage me to go and enjoy my own selfish pursuits and invite me to plop down on the couch to watch television. This is a very real battle that often requires heroic effort. However, there is no higher thrill than to successfully navigate these waters.
Having a focused, attentive conversation with my wife after coming home is not insignificant; it is in fact extremely noble. Rejecting my desire to sit in solitude and read to instead play with my baby son is to choose to give rather than to take. Choosing to eat dinner at the table with my family is an extremely high calling. Many in our world are not up for these adventures right now for many don’t see them as such. Instead of opportunities for adventure many see them as nagging inconveniences.
There is no harder fight for me in the day than this. But there is also no greater opportunity for me to rise to nobleness, to ascend to honor. And through it, I’ve learned that this is the foundation for all adventure.
All great adventures require sacrifice. To the extent that we embrace sacrifice we recognize the invisible adventure in the ordinariness of our lives.
Like any adventure, there are ups and down, failures and successes. There are many days where I stay in my Shire and choose not to accept the call to greatness. But there is always a constant push forward, a consistent push towards the fullness of an adventurous life. Life is heading somewhere—to some completeness, to some place where we can look back with contentment towards a life lived adventurously.
If you embrace life as an adventure, it soon becomes evident that life is moving somewhere—there is a grander story at play that we are journeying through.
So to those who claim their lives are mediocre, listless journeys of purposelessness, I say, “You’re wrong.”
Every person on this planet is already in the midst of an epic adventure regardless of how evident it may be to them.
Each storyline in your life is an intriguing path that beckons an adventure-seeker. Like books, adventures aren’t always what they seem to be from the outside. Some adventures may seem insignificant to those looking for great physical expeditions. However, if you look with the eyes of the One who came to bring ‘full life’, you will be able to see clearly through the thin veil. You will see your full life as it already is.
A full life is not a boring and mundane existence, but a collection of small, yet epic, ventures.
A full life is not one that sees purposelessness, but one that recognizes life as a journey that bends towards greatness.
A full life is not one that seeks magnificent journeys of thrill, but one that finds adventures in the ordinary.
You weren’t made to find adventures. Your life is an adventure.
The challenge is to peel back the curtain and discover what already exists.
