When I was 11 years old, I learned that my Boy Scout troop would be going on an 11-day, 50-mile backpacking trip to Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico. I was four feet, eight inches tall and 80 pounds. My 40-pound pack was half my body weight. And I was two years younger than all the other boys in our troop. I was intimidated and didn’t want to be the weakest link in the group.
To prepare, my dad and I spent many early mornings at the local high school climbing bleachers and walking around the track. To practice hiking with extra weight, I would load my school backpack with every book I owned. So probably a whopping two or three books.
When we got to the Philmont base camp, I saw the foothills and mesas that led to the backcountry, and I got so pumped. All my work was about to pay off. But my initial excitement was quickly punched in the gut. The New Mexico monsoon storms had us hiking in the rain nearly every day. On the second day I came down with hypothermia after getting caught in a rain and hailstorm. By the third day, the hip strap on my backpack had bruised and rubbed my hips raw. My discount hiking boots that I got from the Payless shoe store, which went out of business in 2019, probably for making substandard quality shoes, left my feet with several blisters. On day four, we hiked nearly nine miles and climbed up what seemed like 2,000 vertical feet to a camp called Lookout Meadow. My legs were spent beyond what I thought possible.
On the seventh day, bruised, tired and sore, we camped at the bottom of Mt. Philips, the second tallest peak in the scout ranch, at 11,700 ft. The next day we were expected to climb the peak with full packs. To my little eyes, this mountain was insurmountable and well beyond my ability. Doubt and fear tempted me to quit that very night. I’m not exactly sure how I got to sleep, but it was a tender mercy.
The next morning, feeling a bit more rested, we got up and hit the trail before sunrise. Guided by the light of our mini mag flashlights, we hiked more switchbacks than I could count. Going back and forth had me dizzy and demoralized. But the sun eventually rose, and I was thankful for the warmth and energy it brought. We climbed to what I thought was the top of the mountain only to realize that it was a false summit and we had to keep climbing. This happened more than once. After hours of climbing, we crested the final ridge and stepped onto the real summit. The view took my breath away, and it wasn’t just from the thin air. I could see streams meandering through the valleys below with mountains all around climbing above the tree line. The world seemed to go on forever.
And it was at that point that I felt all the work was worth it.
However, as good as the view was, it was the entirety of the experience that has meant the most to me in these last 35 years. It was real adventure. Unfortunately, I didn’t come home any taller, but I did come home stronger [and] with the desire to climb taller mountains and tackle bigger challenges. Looking back, I sometimes wonder if adventures like that are becoming rare.
What is Adventure?
Today I look around at our technological advances and wonder if we’ve lost our sense of adventure?
In his book, The Comfort Crisis [1], Michael Easter explains how modern conveniences like air conditioning, always-on devices, excess food, and lack of physical demands on our daily life have disconnected us from purpose and meaning in our lives.
For many of us, today’s idea of “adventure” can shrink until it fits on a screen. Here in 2025, we might feel like adventure is running our phone battery below 10%. Maybe driving somewhere without Google Maps. Or worse, driving with Apple Maps.
And this loss of adventure doesn’t just affect adults—it’s reshaped childhood itself.
In the book The Anxious Generation, social psychologist Jonathan Haidt points out that over the last 40 years, the world made efforts to protect kids from danger. Childhood and adolescence moved indoors, onto screens, and away from the real world. Since 1979, teens who report meeting up with their friends every day is down nearly 25%. He shows that as we tried to make life safer, we accidentally took away the very kinds of challenges and adventures that help people learn and grow strong. [2]
For example, this sign at a magnet school in Berkley, California even tried to make the game of tag safer by giving kids rules instead of letting them learn how to self-regulate. Let me read a few of these. “Resolve disagreements with rock, paper, scissors.” Wow! Profound. “Include everyone.” “If a player doesn’t want to play tag, the other players must respect that.” So, we have to include everyone, but not if they don’t want to … in other words, we designed the learning right out of play time. [3]
I think he’s right. Real adventure—the kind that forces you to face risk, discomfort, and the unknown—helps us build courage. Screen-based adventure only builds comfort. And comfort is the enemy of growth.
Watching someone run a marathon is not the same as running a marathon. Clicking “follow” isn’t the same as following Christ’s footsteps.
What Does Real Adventure Look Like?
So, what does real adventure look like to you? Is it Frodo and Sam returning the ring to Mordor? Maybe it’s Moana sailing beyond the reef?
Ultimately, it is our Savior himself and His story. In Luke 9:23, we read: “And he said to them all, If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.” [4]
Christ’s story was the greatest adventure ever told. And he invited us to follow him in the adventures he has in store for us.
When the Father asked, “Whom shall I send? [5]” the Savior said, “Here am I. Send me.” [6]
He left the comforts of heaven for the uncertainty of earth. A place where He was not guaranteed acceptance or even recognition.
In the wilderness, He faced the adversary himself.
In Gethsemane, He bore the weight of sin for every human soul.
On the cross, He faced death—and won.
And in His resurrection, He showed us what victory really looks like.
His story has every element of adventure. A choice, courage, sacrifice, heartbreak, and triumph.
And then He turns to us and simply says, “Follow me.”
I believe real adventure is discipleship with blisters. It’s you and the Lord in the wild places between who you’ve been and who He is making you into.
How Can I Recognize the Call to Adventure?
In my life, I’ve seen calls to adventure come from two directions, inside and outside.
Internal calls come from your interests. Ask yourself, “What makes me feel alive in a righteous way? What topics keep me up reading? What am I doing when I lose track of time?” The Lord often leads us through our sanctified interests.
External calls come through a friend who says, “Come with me.” Maybe a spouse who challenges you. Or perhaps from a bishop that invites you to do a calling at church that scares the daylights out of you.
Be ready for these invitations to live at the edge of your comfort zone. If the Lord says, “Go,” you go. If He says, “teach nursery,” you bring the snacks.
Sometimes those calls come slowly and sometimes years before. When I was 17, a young men’s leader told me about this new invention called the internet. He told me it was going to change the world and told me to pay attention because it would impact my career for years to come. But I didn’t listen to that advice and decided to study Spanish Education. The joke was on me. Three decades, an extra degree, and two cross country moves later, today I’m helping to strategize how AI impacts higher education at BYU-Idaho.
I’ve been amazed at the different ways the Spirit works through my interests and people in my life to lead me down new and exciting paths. Take note of the things that call your attention. Don’t overthink it.
Trail Signs
My favorite place on earth is to be in the mountains. Those who have spent any time on trails in the mountains use trail signs to keep moving towards the desired destination. I want to pass along some signs or tips for your upcoming adventures, should you choose to accept them.
First: Be prepared.
When our kids were younger, we went on a hike every week. My wife discovered the secret to any successful hike with little kids: Snacks, lots of snacks. If Ashby's are known for anything, it’s for being hangry. But she came to every hike prepared with food that kept us all happy. Thank you, Dollar Tree, for your discount candy. Here are a few ways to prepare for life’s adventures.
Prepare your body, mind, and spirit. If you study endurance sports, you’ll quickly see how closely these three are connected. The Lord’s work needs disciples with capable bodies, so move or exercise regularly. You will create mental and physical toughness, sharpening your mind and spirit for future efforts. I’ve never had a moment on any adventure when I wished to be weaker.
Practice being uncomfortable. This year I challenged myself to climb 250,000 vertical feet by running, hiking, and biking. No matter the weather, my friends and I make plans to meet at various trails three to five days a week. I set this challenge to try my ability to stick with something over a long period of time. I wanted to see if I could put off my excuses and enjoy each day regardless of the conditions. I’d probably be a lot closer to that goal if I wasn’t giving this devotional.
Your practice should start with small and regular challenges. They can be physical, social, or spiritual. It doesn’t matter. Just practice being uncomfortable. Practice choosing the Lord’s will over your own and see where he takes you. Especially on the small things.
Pack people. The golden rule for hiking is to never hike alone. Between animal encounters or potential injuries, there is safety in numbers. My wife and I have a friend named Mo. She loves adventure and trains hard. A few months ago, she and my wife went mountain biking the very morning she went into labor. She’s amazing. Mo has a motto: “Friends over miles.” Meaning no matter how many miles the training plan says to run today, friends come first. Mo reminds me that the bravest people I know love people more than they love their personal records.
President Henry B. Eyring said it best in his address on this campus in 2009 when he said, “The climbs to the places God would have us go are never for us alone.” [7]
Second: Have courage.
Trying new things and stepping outside our comfort zone can be scary. My first full day in the Dominican Republic as a missionary was downright terrifying. I was dropped on an island in the middle of the ocean, with no internet, no email, and no cell phone. The only communication from family and friends would come in the form of handwritten letters that took 6 weeks to arrive from the US. The drive to my first area felt more like a game of chicken than a traditional commute. The smells alternated between fried street food and rotting garbage. I heard the street vendors yelling back and forth, yet the language didn’t sound anything like the Spanish I studied in the MTC for the previous 10 weeks. The sum of all my fears hit me at once and I felt hopeless and alone. But the Spirit of the Lord ministered to me. Helped me to see one small step ahead at a time rather than the entire mountain all at once. I took it one day at a time. By stacking one small win on top of another, I grew to have a bit more courage.
Courage often looks ordinary. It could look like showing up to class when you bombed the last exam. Bearing your testimony even when your voice is shaking. It’s getting on your knees in prayer when your burdens seem too heavy.
Third: Be teachable.
Every call to adventure is an invitation to learn. Nephi didn’t get the plates on his first or even his second attempt. If I were in his shoes, I’d probably look back at those attempts and laugh. I’ve had plenty of cringy learning moments; my wife can confirm that. Thankfully, most happened before social media, so there’s not much evidence.
Those moments are lessons. Sometimes, learning what not to do is a form of personal revelation. The challenge is to see every experience as a blessing, even the uncomfortable ones.
That’s why you’re here at this university, at this time. To learn. Be brave enough to be bad at something new. Ask someone you trust, “What am I not seeing?” Listen—and make a change.
Finally: Trust the process.
Sometimes discipleship feels like hiking with that one guy who keeps saying, “We’re almost there,” … and he’s been saying it for three hours … I know, I’m usually that guy.
I was a student, like all of you, in the year 2000, sitting in the Hart Auditorium for a devotional from then President Bednar. He gave one of the clearest lessons on faith I’ve ever seen.
[Clip from President Bednar] [8]
That’s it. Faith isn’t waiting for the whole path to light up. Faith is stepping first—then watching the light move with you.
God’s process is simple: He gives us a chance to grow. This could come in the form of experiences, challenges, and desires. It’s our call to take the next step.
But still, there will be times when taking that next step will seem impossible.
Most long-distance runners hit a point they refer to as “the pain cave.” It’s that moment where you regret every decision that led to this point or this mile. The most successful runners train to manage those thoughts. They practice accepting the pain while still moving forward. They know through experience that struggle and pain lead to progress and accomplishment. They remember that great achievement comes after and often through obstacles. Faith is not avoiding the pain cave; it’s trusting that God’s light still shines in it.
So, when life feels uphill, and you can’t see the summit—don’t wait for perfect light.
The light will move with you. Just keep moving forward.
Now … let’s make this practical. Tomorrow, I want to challenge you to a campus-wide experiment I’m calling “We Talk Wednesday.” Think of it as a social hike. No blisters required.
Here’s the challenge:
- Tomorrow, leave your phone and earbuds in your pocket.
- Look up.
- Say hello to someone new.
Your goal is simple—make campus feel a little more like Zion. Before you head out tomorrow morning, pray and ask Heavenly Father to show you who might need a smile, a word, or a friend. And when it feels awkward … just know that’s what the edge of your comfort zone feels like.
One final note, the wildest adventure I’ve ever been a part of has been marrying my beautiful wife. We’ve earned multiple degrees, chased jobs, and moved our family across the country three times. You want to feel the spirit of adventure? Try packing all your possessions in a moving truck, your wife and young family following behind in a minivan and driving across the country to chase a job or education. I’ll never forget the feeling driving across East Texas on our way to North Carolina thinking, “These wonderful souls are depending on you. You better know what you’re doing.” It’s one of the most humbling experiences I’ve ever had. I’m so thankful for my wife. Together we embarked on a debt-free journey and sent off two missionaries.
Nothing has stretched me more, made me laugh so hard, scared me so bad, been as much fun, or as rewarding as building our life together. We set goals together, we worked hard together, we learned to mountain bike together, ran an ultramarathon together, we served the Lord together. Every bit of it has been the ride of a lifetime and I wouldn’t be half the man I am today if it weren’t for her. So, thank you for being my adventure buddy.
What is the Lord calling you to today? Are you choosing the adventures He has in store for you? Or are you, as Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf said, “living beneath your privileges”? [9]
Brothers and sisters, this life is an amazing experience. Beware of the prisons that our comforts can create. It’s our turn to take up our cross and follow our Savior. We heard the plan to come to this Earth and have earthly experiences and we chose adventure. Let’s not forget that—is my humble prayer in the name of our Savior, Jesus Christ, amen.
Notes
[1] Michael Easter, The Comfort Crisis, 202.
[2] Jonathan Haidt, The Anxious Generation, Chapter 2. Fig. S2.2.1.
[3] Jonathan Haidt, The Anxious Generation, Fig S3.6.2.
[4] Luke 9:23.
[5] Abraham 3:27.
[6] Abraham 3:27.
[7] Henry B. Eyring, The Temple and the College on the Hill, 2009 BYU-Idaho Devotional.
[8] David A. Bednar, “According to the Faith,” BYU-Idaho Devotional, Aug. 29, 2000 (19:30 – 20:50).
[9] Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf, “Your Potential, Your Privilege,” General Conference, April 2011.
About David Ashby
David Ashby was born in Reno, Nevada, and raised in Tucson, Arizona. He served in the Dominican Republic Santo Domingo East Mission. He attended Ricks College and was the captain of the Ricks College spirit team. David graduated from BYU-Idaho with a degree in Spanish education and later earned a master’s degree in educational technology from Boise State University.
He has had an exciting career as a Spanish teacher and an instructional technology coach and director, and has been at BYU–Idaho for 12 years. He has also coached a variety of sports—including football, basketball, cheerleading, and golf—in Salmon, Idaho, and McKinney, Texas. He is currently the head coach of the Biting Goats mountain bike team where he helps kids get more kids on bikes.
David met his sweetheart, Christine Foster, in the dance studio in the Hart building. They were married in the Dallas Texas Temple in 2003 and are the parents of four children.