On the last night of the first summer camping trip I ever led, our group was huddled around a campfire laughing at the inside jokes and funny stories that had unfolded during our time together. A student subtly tugged on the hood of my sweatshirt and quietly asked me a question:

Student: Wait. Are you serious? You’re telling me you actually believe Bigfoot exists?
Me: Wait. Are you serious? You’re telling me you actually believe a guy named Jesus was murdered and then came back from the dead?
Student: Wait. What?

Maybe a little context will help.

Nearly 10 years ago, I inherited a high school ministry that had experienced four different high school pastors in the previous four years. Although there was a remarkable group of volunteers involved in the ministry and solid traditions and programs were in place, the ministry was craving a more consistent and clear vision from leadership. Although I initially focused my energy on building relationships with students and volunteers and sought ways to improve our weekly program, I knew that eventually I would need to rethink our annual camps and retreats.

The summer following my first year of high school ministry, we traveled to the Appalachian Mountains on what was advertised as an “Adventure Trip.” The website displayed pictures of students repelling, caving and whitewater rafting; at the time, we didn’t have any better ideas. Our group had a great week. We had fun, built relationships and inspired one another to grow closer to God. However, adventure is not a word I would use to describe a trip that involved more than eight hours in a van (both ways), staying in a college dorm, driving to the adventure locations each day, spending about an hour or two at each adventure, and then going back to the college campus for other activities. I don’t want to imply the organization didn’t do a good job or that we had a terrible time, but I do want to say I didn’t experience an adventure in the truest sense of the word with my students.

After that trip, I decided I no longer was willing to settle for farming out the work of creating experiences for my students to other people. I no longer was willing to sign up for experiences that weren’t created with the faces of my specific students in mind. I no longer was willing to minimize what the word adventure could mean for my youth group.

The process of designing our own adventure experiences took years to unfold, primarily because my church is just like everyone else’s: We have limited time and resources, and doing the work of designing your own camp or retreat almost always feels unreasonable, unrealistic and unattainable.

After three years, we finally had the ability to pilot our own winter camp experience, where every minute of our weekend helped serve our specific students and the specific priorities of our ministry. My interns brainstormed optional free-time activities for our students and leaders to participate in throughout the weekend. For some reason, they loved the idea of me leading a Bigfoot Expedition in the woods surrounding the camp. I spent the 10 minutes before the scheduled expedition Googling information about Bigfoot and looking at a map of the camp trails, expecting to go on a fun hike with a handful of students. I was shocked when 50 people gathered at the location designated for our expedition to begin. That’s well more than half of our participants for the weekend.

I spent the next 30 minutes improvising and acting as if I were leading them on an expedition I had been preparing for months. I stretched the 10 minutes of Bigfoot knowledge I had gleaned from the Internet into demonstrations on how North American primates walk, communicate, build shelter and forage for food. We talked about what to do if you ever have an unexpected encounter with a North American primate while in the woods (Don’t be scared: They’re likely vegetarians.) and how to know if you’re being followed. We talked about how it was possible for North American primates to exist without yet having been scientifically verified to exist. The more confidently I spoke, the more questions students asked. Our words to each other began with phrases such as:
“What if..?”
“How come..?”
“Have you ever considered..?”
“Do you think..?”
“What about..?”
“Is it possible that..?”
“Could it be that..?”

During a hastily planned activity at our winter camp, I discovered there is something about discussing the possible existence of Bigfoot that unlocked the hearts and minds of my students. Our young people have been raised in a world where success is determined by having all the right answers and logically sound arguments. There isn’t much room in the classroom or on the athletic field to wonder, imagine and explore. If we’re honest, there probably isn’t much room for any of this in our churches. By creating an experience around something that at first glance appeared absurd, I inadvertently was giving them a break from normalcy and permission not to have to perform or be anything other than themselves. I was telling them it was OK to play, wonder, have fun and consider unlikely possibilities.

Adventure = Retreating and Pilgrimaging
Since this winter camp experience, I became more committed than ever to adventuring well with my students. This led to brainstorming sessions, testing ideas with students, and multiple rounds of trial and error. Where I’ve landed is framing adventures with my students around two words: retreat and pilgrimage.

These two words are familiar to anyone who was raised in a religious context. In fact, they’re probably so familiar they may have lost their meaning. However, in my desire to adventure well with my students, I’ve learned to reclaim these words as verbs that are vital to these experiences with my students.

I now create space at the beginning of each camp or adventure for my students to ask and answer these two questions as a group:

Retreat: What are you running from? What do you need to run from?
Pilgrimage: What are you journeying to or toward? What do you need to journey to or toward?

It should be no surprise that our students actually can articulate what they need to leave behind at home, whether it’s abuse, habits, addiction, pain or troubled relationships. If they’re honest, they know they’re running or retreating from something. In the spirit of adventure, I always invite students to consider retreating from security, safety, logic and the pressure always to have all the answers.

It also should be no surprise that our students actually can articulate what they need to journey to while on an adventure, whether it’s wholeness, a fresh start, new friendships, a positive environment or God. In the spirit of adventure, I always invite students to consider pilgrimaging to hope, the unknown, risk, wonder, awe and the unexplainable.

In short, to adventure well with our students, we must reclaim retreating and pilgrimaging as verbs.

All of this means that as youth leaders we must be more than leaders of an adventure, we must be co-adventurers with our students. We genuinely must be willing to retreat and pilgrimage. We must be willing to try new trails, play new games, ask questions that invite wonder, and look for every possible opportunity to create an awe-inspiring moment with our students. This could be as simple as taking time to watch a sunset, staying up late enough to see the stars, and as silly as Googling information about Bigfoot so you have plenty to talk about while you’re making dinner together. For me and my students, I make it clear from the first minute of our experience together that I am retreating from a world where it is strange to talk about the possibility of the existence of North American primates and that I am pilgrimaging to a world where talking about NAPs is the most normal of conversations. Also, I invite them to join me.

Why I Have to Believe Bigfoot Exists
Back to the beginning of this article…More directly to answer the question my student asked me:

“Yes.”

I do believe in Bigfoot. I want to believe in Bigfoot. I need to believe in Bigfoot. I have to believe there are still adventures to be had, discoveries to be made and minds to be changed about how the world works and what our lives must be. I have to believe there are still endless possibilities available to each of us in our universe. I have to believe those who claim to have everything figured out actually know the least. I have to believe it is possible to live a life that is open to adventure rather than closed.

If I can help create an environment where my students and I can catch so much as a glimpse of this kind of reality, then suddenly conversations about spirituality, loving others and resurrection sound less as unbelievable fairy tales and more as tangible realities to which we all can aspire—more of a kind of life worth dying to for really.

That evening around the campfire, my student and I kept talking. She was months away from making decisions about college, life after high school, relationships, careers, money and her future. I did my best to explain all of this to her. After listening for a while, she responded by saying, “That sounds like a good way to live.”

I think so, too.

For Further Thought::
How Do We Create Adventures with Students?

1) With, not For. Notice that you’re not creating an adventure for your students—you’re creating one with your students. Invite them into the process of creating the adventure, and you also must be committed to being a co-adventuring participant.

2) Plan ahead, but not too much. If you’re going on a camping trip, make sure you’ve been to the camp or campground and visited the area on your own ahead of time. From there, you can take calculated risks that won’t involve putting you or your group in a bad situation. You can take students down a trail you’ve never hiked before, as long as it’s not the first time you’ve ever been in the same country as the trail you’re hiking.

3) “Where there’s a fence, there’s a way around it.” When I was studying in Israel, one of my professors voiced this infamous line when our class unexpectedly came upon a fence with a sign that said, “Danger: Mines Ahead,” while hiking on a trail near Galilee. Unexpected problems are opportunities for more adventure, not obstacles that should derail your adventure.

4) Don’t adventure alone. Make sure you have the support of parents, senior leadership and your volunteers as you plan an adventure that involves any type of risk or danger.

5) Tell them the truth. Talk to students as if you believe they can handle what lies ahead (even if you don’t). I once started a morning hike that involved walking near 100-foot cliffs that dropped directly into Lake Superior with the words, “Everything we’re going to do today is 100 percent safe; but if you don’t do what I say, it’s possible you could die.”