Over the years, my mom told us this story from time to time. Often when things looked grim, but sometimes just because it made her laugh. It was one of her favorites. It was probably in the Reader’s Digest, and it’s almost certainly apocryphal, but I thought of it this morning as I was driving to work, and the day seemed a bit brighter, despite the fact that I could hardly see for the rain flooding the windshield.
A minister had just arrived at a new congregation, and he wanted to get to know his parishioners a bit, so as he met them one by one, he asked them their favorite Bible verse. (Probably it seemed holier than their favorite food.)
As he worked his way around the lobby, he paused and bent to greet a tiny woman with white hair. When they’d exchanged names, he asked his question.
“I can’t quite remember the chapter and verse,” she said, “but my favorite is where it says, ‘And it came to pass.'”
The minister blinked. “That’s … well, I don’t think anyone’s ever picked that as their favorite before, ma’am,” he said. “Can you tell me why you love that verse so much?”
“Oh,” she said, and beamed. “It’s so comforting. It came to pass. Just think if it had come to stay!”