When people think of the religious life, “adventure” is not a word that usually comes to mind. Instead, they picture a monk, sitting alone in his cell, praying and reading Scripture, or working silently alongside a fellow-brother, both under a vow of silence. Not much adventure there.

The religious life seems to be the antithesis of adventure. Isn’t it those who want to avoid risk who take holy orders? Aren’t preachers the Milquetoasts of society?

Our culture would have us think so. In Emerson’s essays, Jane Austin’s novels, and contemporary representations of religious people in television and film, if the pastor is not a selfish hypocrite, he is a pretentious bore. Religious people play it safe. They don’t want any trouble as they tread this earthly sod on their way to an even more boring heaven.

It is ironic that some of the people who have lived the most adventurous lives, full of risk and filled with purpose, have been people of faith. Take Francis of Assisi. After returning home from the wars, Francis abandoned his wealthy father’s business, renounced his inheritance, stood up to the pope, and transformed society.

What about St. Paul? Shortly after his commitment to Jesus as the Messiah, he had to go into hiding. He barely escaped capture, lived in the desert, and then returned to civilization to proclaim the tidings of a God who loves everyone. He faced relentless enemies, was jailed more times than he could remember, was nearly killed in a riot, and was finally beheaded. His life was an adventure.

One needn’t go back to Sts. Francis and Paul to find examples of people of faith who lived adventurous lives. A few years ago, Asia Bibi, a Pakastani Christian wife and mother was attacked by a mob because a neighbor claimed that she had blasphemed Muhammed. Though widely believed to be innocent, she was arrested and sentenced to death. The governor of her province was assassinated for defending her, as was the Minister for Minority Affairs. Hardly a boring life.

In 2008, a man named Cho Kwanghyuk started a secret church in North Korea. Only nine people attended and they had only one Bible between them. When word about the church got out, Cho was arrested. He was tortured and sent to a labor camp, but managed to escape and find sanctuary in the U.S. He lives the adventure.

How could it be otherwise for people who follow Jesus and are determined to be like him? No one ever lived a more adventurous life than their leader. Christian theology takes the story all the way back to God’s decision to enter the world as a fully human being – talk about an adventure – in order to rescue humanity from ruin.

Jesus’s entire life was an adventure. A maniacally paranoid king tried to hunt him down and kill him when he was just a child. His family escaped and fled the country. His public ministry brought him fame and thousands of followers, but it also brought harassment, accusations, and multiple attempts on his life. When he entered Jerusalem on the day known as Palm Sunday, Jesus knew that he was signing his own death warrant.

But Jesus’s life was adventurous even apart from these extraordinary things. He lived out of a connection to his Father God, a connection maintained through prayer. Prayer needn’t be an exercise in boredom—not if it is done right. It can be the door to adventure.

It was for Jesus. God guided him, at least in part, through his prayers. Because he prayed, he recognized God-given opportunities, which he called “the works that the Father has given me.” For Jesus, every day was an adventure, whether he was healing a proud curmudgeon (as in John 5), engaging in lively repartee with a foreigner (Mark 7), or calming a raging demoniac (Luke 8). No one lived a more adventurous life.

When prayer is boring, it is because bored people are praying about things for which they care little. When prayer becomes a means of interacting with God in his redemptive work, the adventure begins and boredom vanishes.