And it came to pass

There are few phrases in Scripture that hold as much quiet power as this: “And it came to pass.”

Not it came to stay.

Not it came to destroy.

Not it came to define me forever.

But it came to pass.

Every midnight hour, every ache I thought would never ease, every unanswered prayer that left me breathless—none of them were designed to last forever. They were visitors, not permanent residents. And one day, just like every storm written before in God’s book of providence, they will pass.

Right now, I’m in the middle. The ache has not loosened its grip. The prayer hasn’t yet turned into a testimony. The tears still soak my pillow, and the weight hasn’t lifted. But the whisper of this phrase carries me: “And it came to pass.”

It means seasons shift.

It means sorrow has an expiration date.

It means God still writes the final chapter, and He has already declared that this present pain will not be the period at the end of my story.

One day, this valley will be memory. One day, this prayer will be praise. One day, the burden will be lifted, and I’ll look back and see the fingerprints of God in every detail that once felt unbearable.

For now, I wait with trembling hope.

For now, I hold onto the promise that even if I cannot see it yet, heaven is moving.

For now, I keep reminding my soul that what feels endless is only passing through.

Because His Word does not lie.

And His Word says—

It came to pass.

Not to crush me.

Not to destroy me.

But to move me into the place where His glory will be revealed.

It hasn’t passed yet, but it’s coming.

And when it does, I will stand in awe that what once broke me became the very thing that brought me closer to Him.