I visited with Autumn recently, ahead of her seasonal return, and was pleased to find that we have a great deal in common.

As it turns out, we share preference for three of the four Myers-Briggs dichotomies. I'm an INTP (Introvert, Intuition, Thinking, Perceiving); she's an INFP (Introvert, Intuition, Feeling, Perceiving). And, truth be told, we're not too far apart on the whole Thinking/Feeling function.

We're both partial to November. We delight to see the turning of the leaves. We love the crisp, cold mornings of the season. We're quite sentimental, and we enjoy time with cherished family and friends around the hearth. We long for the season's stillness to read and to reflect and to write. We both look forward to the return of the constellation Orion in the night sky. And, get this, it turns out she's a huge baseball fan; she hosts the World Series every year--something she prefers to call, "The Fall Classic." Now, you might think she's being a bit presumptuous about that one, but I too must admit some pride, knowing Fox Sports holds the television rights to the Series.

In spite of our commonalities, during our visit I confessed my profound disappointment in her. A sense of betrayal, even. 

You see, over the past three years, I've suffered significant "leavings" while in the company of Autumn. The first--less a loss but, nevertheless, a difficult transition--was the move from our beloved hometown of twenty years, Auburn, California. The following year, we suffered the loss of Gracie, one of two canine littermates we've loved for a quarter of our lives. Last year, it was the stunning, albeit merciful, passing of my mother. And this year, on the cusp of Autumn, there was the inexplicable loss of my youngest brother, Mark.

Autumn and I talked for some time. She explained that, among the ancients, suffering didn't have the sorrowful connotation it bears in our culture. It was more about enduring. "Suffering," or perhaps more accurately, "to suffer," was less a description of a calamitous event or time and more about a people's reaction to the sorrow. Further, it was just as common for the ancients to speak of enduring the monotonous plateaus of their lives as it was to speak of enduring those occasions of profound loss.   

Autumn then offered a wondrous observation around "enduring." She reminded me that Jesus was "made like His brethren in all things...He Himself was tried by that which He suffered, or endured" (Hebrews 2:17-18). Then, turning the tables, she recalled that God--by monotony and adversity--strengthens our enduring, that we might "share in his holiness" (Hebrews 2:7-11).

Suffering--or enduring--then should not be regarded lightly, or become a place of surrender, or betray a root of bitterness, for...  

It's a mysterious place of wonder

--a place of communion even-- 

where God partook of the nature of man and

where man can partake of the nature of God.

Where is your greatest call to suffer, or to endure? Is it enduring those occasions of profound loss or enduring the monotonous plateaus?

Is there a common theme to the places that call forth your endurance? Spiritual? Emotional? Mental? Physical? Social? What does it look like? Name it.

What's a new perspective you might occupy around your distinctive "themes of trial"?

Paul "got it": "Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all" (2 Corinthians 4:16-17).