Two weeks ago, as I was walking through the woods along the high rapids of the Churchill River, I began a conversation with a dear friend. The topic of our conversation was adventure. We were in the middle of the woods, marvelling at the various berries on offer and the light cascading through the trees, and we began mulling over the ways in which the characters of the books we read as children were often unafraid of adventure and risk. We thought of Lucy venturing into Narnia and the Famous Five surviving off pineapple chunks and tinned milk—we marvelled at their inherent confidence and bravery. [1]
In another conversation I had several weeks earlier, driving on the gravel roads back from Cumberland House, my parents talked about having a similar kind of confidence growing up in the 80s. I had been asking them what it was like for them growing up, and my dad said something along the lines of “we had a deep sense that the world was there for our exploration and enjoyment.”
But where did this confidence come from? How did the brash characters of 1950s children’s literature and the real youth of the 1980s move into adventure and risk with such ease? What was it that they had that we so sorely miss?
The answer may seem obvious—the stark reality of a “Super-sized” El Niño,[2] the all too terrifying possibility that Europe could again be swept by fascist leaders, the spike in famine and drought, the catastrophic war occurring in the Middle East, the threat of civil conflict, the encroachment of artificial intelligence… The list continues. The state of current global affairs seems to reject any notion that things will be “ok.”
But what if the bravery of these children was not built on an understanding that everything would be ok (even these children were confronted with bleak realities); what if instead it was built on the belief and hope that there was something greater waiting for them in their adventure?
The hope we are given as Christians is not that things will remain the same. Our hope, grounded in the promise of the resurrection, is that things will be changed into their truer form, a form which lives into the full Glory of being made and loved.
Becoming receptive to this form is not necessarily a comfortable activity. Recall St. Peter being told to go into deeper waters after a day of unsuccessful fishing. There is risk involved in releasing to receive what has been given. However, amidst this discomfort, we are repeatedly told not to fear. (Luke 5:1-11)
We are taught not to fear, not because there is nothing to be afraid of, but rather because there is a promise that is infinitely more wondrous than our reality. Recall again St. Peter returning with nets abundantly full.
Christ teaches us to become like little children (Matthew 18:2-4), and so perhaps there is a lesson to be learned from these adventurous youths. Perhaps, like them, we are meant to take on a courage that is not based on the world around us, but rather on the hope of what it could be—what it will be.
Courage is not dependent upon the current human condition; rather, it is dependent on the condition of the One who comes, who is crucified, who is resurrected. Courage is not ours to generate; it is ours to receive.
But what do we do with this courage founded on hope? Are we allowed to act as we please, confident that regardless of the risks we take, we will be safe? No, safety is not what we are promised. The promise that we are given is that He has not and will not let go of us — that we are not abandoned. This divine bond, revealed in the Word made flesh, this Love which is imbued in all creation, is the something greater the adventurer is promised.
But how are we meant to live into this adventure? What does this mean for us as adults whose courage is sometimes hard to muster in a world such as this? Rowan Williams offers us instruction for how to take up the gift of courage. He writes: “We need to point to the God who does not let go, to the Christ who does not run away… by our faithfulness to the lost, the suffering, and the marginal, we begin to show what it is to have faith in the one who doesn’t let go.”[3]
Understood in this way, courage is the “simple” act of living as if we are loved, and of encountering the world and its suffering as if it, too, is loved. When we take action for the lost, the suffering, and the marginalized, in our lives and in ourselves, we participate in the revelation of a self-revealing God.
This activity of revelation in community is frightening and tiring because in it we continuously confront a society that does not operate as if each of its members is loved; because this idea is, in many ways, counter-cultural in a world filled with division. However, it is the great adventure we are set on, and what a glorious adventure this continual revelation of Love is. If we stay with the world, imperfectly mimicking the One who does not let go, our eyes are opened to the incomparable gift of His presence within it. Although we have much to be afraid of, the abundance of the Love which is demands our exploration and delight. As co-heirs with Christ, we are given the ability to venture into deeper waters knowing that our nets will be filled near bursting with His Glory.
C.S. Lewis recounts Lucy hearing the name of Love (Aslan) for the first time: “[She] got the feeling you have when you wake up in the morning and realize that it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer.”[4]
And so, even as summer draws to a close and the leaves become burnished, let us enter into the revelation of Love as a little one newly awakened in wonder, full of endless curiosity of what the world will be.
[1] Enid Blyton, The Valley of Adventure (London: Hodder Children’s Books, 2015).
[2] El Niño Is Surging. Months of Extreme Heat Could Follow | UN News,” United Nations, accessed September 10, 2026, https://news.un.org/en/story/2026/09/1168265.
[3] Rowan Williams, “Rowan Williams Quotes (Author of Being Christian),” Goodreads, accessed September 11, 2026, https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/67472.Rowan_Williams?page=3, p.3.
[4] C. S. Lewis, “Lucy Pevensie Quotes (13 Quotes),” Goodreads, accessed September 11, 2026, https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/lucy-pevensie.
