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You’ve said it to a friend crying in a parking lot before a diagnosis. Someone probably said it to you once — after the funeral, after the layoff, after the phone call that changed everything. Three words, low and steady, meant to hold you up when nothing else could: this too shall pass.
It works. Not because it’s clever, but because it’s true. And most people who say it have no idea where it actually came from — or that the man behind it didn’t just say the phrase once. He spent an entire book proving it.
The Ring Nobody Can Verify — But Everyone Repeats
Jewish tradition tells a story about King Solomon that never made it into the Bible itself, but has been retold for centuries in rabbinic folklore. Solomon, the story goes, asked his goldsmith for a ring engraved with words that would make a happy man sad and a sad man happy — something true in every season of life.
The goldsmith struggled for weeks. Eventually he brought the problem to Solomon’s daughter, who gave him three simple Hebrew words to engrave: gam zeh ya’avor — “this too shall pass.”
The legend says Solomon wore it for the rest of his life. In his greatest triumphs, it humbled him — reminding him the applause wouldn’t last. In his darkest nights, it steadied him — reminding him the darkness wouldn’t last either. Abraham Lincoln loved this story so much he retold it in an 1859 letter, calling it “chastening in the hour of pride” and “consoling in the depths of affliction.”
Here’s what almost nobody points out when they tell that story: the same king who supposedly wore that ring also sat down, later in life, and wrote an entire book that tests the ring’s promise against everything a human being can chase. It’s called Ecclesiastes. And it isn’t folklore. It’s scripture.
Ecclesiastes: Solomon Living Out His Own Ring
Ecclesiastes reads like a journal from a man who had already won. Solomon had the wealth — 1 Kings 10 says silver was as common in Jerusalem as stone during his reign. He had the wisdom kings traveled continents to witness. He had building projects, vineyards, gardens, singers, and — by his own account — every pleasure he ever wanted. Then he tells us what he found on the other side of getting it all.
“Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity” (Ecclesiastes 1:2). The Hebrew word translated “vanity” is hevel — vapor, mist, a breath you can see for a second on a cold morning before it’s gone. Solomon isn’t saying life is worthless. He’s saying it’s vapor — real while it’s here, but never something you can hold onto or make permanent.
That’s the ring’s whole message, written out in longhand across twelve chapters, by the one man history says actually tested it against real wealth, real power, and real pleasure — and still came out the other side saying: none of it stays.
If that gap between having everything and still feeling hollow sounds familiar, you are not the only one who has felt it — it’s the exact ache Solomon is describing three thousand years later.
The Verse That Cracks It Open
Chapter 3 is where Solomon gets specific. He lists it out — a time to be born and a time to die, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to keep silence and a time to speak (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8). Then he lands on the verse that actually explains why the ring works:
“He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end” (Ecclesiastes 3:11).
Read that slowly. Solomon isn’t just saying seasons change. He’s saying God is the one setting them — and that God alone can see the whole shape of a life from start to finish. We can’t. We’re standing in the middle of one “time,” unable to see where it ends or what it’s building toward. That’s exactly why the ring had to say this too shall pass instead of something like “everything gets better” or “this is punishment.” It doesn’t promise an outcome. It just tells the truth about time itself: it moves. Nothing you’re in right now — the good or the bad — is the whole story.
The ring never promised an ending. It just promised movement — and movement was enough.
The Part the Ring Legend Usually Skips
Most retellings of Solomon’s ring only mention the comfort side — this too shall pass when you’re suffering. But the ring supposedly humbled Solomon in his best moments too, and that’s the half of the story Ecclesiastes actually spends more time on. Solomon wasn’t writing to console himself out of poverty. He was writing as the richest, most accomplished man of his era, warning us that the finish line we’re all sprinting toward — the promotion, the applause, the achievement — passes just as fast as the pain does.
It’s the same whiplash Elijah felt right after his biggest win over the prophets of Baal — proof this isn’t just an Old Testament wisdom book’s problem to solve. If you’re in a good season right now, this verse is still talking to you. It’s not just an anchor for the storm. It’s a check on the sunshine.
What This Actually Looks Like Today
You don’t need a literal ring. You need the same reflex Solomon was building — the habit of naming your current “time” instead of mistaking it for forever.
- In the hard season: name it as a season, out loud, in a sentence with a subject and a verb — “this is a time to grieve,” “this is a time to wait” — instead of a permanent identity.
- In the good season: hold it with open hands. Say thank you before you assume it’s owed to you or that it will last forever.
- Either way: hand the part you can’t see — the beginning and the end God alone holds — back to Him, instead of trying to calculate it yourself.
Solomon isn’t the only one whose story proves this, either. Nearly 78 percent of NFL players face serious financial distress within two years of retiring — the applause fades almost exactly the way Solomon said it would, three thousand years after he said it.
Three Things You Can Do in the Next 10 Minutes
- Tonight, say one sentence naming your current season out loud — “this is a time to ___” — instead of treating it like it’s permanent.
- Text one person who’s in a hard season the actual phrase, “this too shall pass,” along with one specific thing you’re praying for them.
- Open Ecclesiastes 3 and read verses 1 through 11 slowly, underlining the “time” that matches exactly where you are right now.
Questions Worth Sitting With
- What season are you actually in right now — and have you been treating it like it’s permanent?
- Where in your life have you been white-knuckling something good, afraid it won’t last, instead of just being thankful for it today?
- What would change if you actually believed God could see the whole shape of your life, start to finish, even the part you’re standing in right now?
God, I don’t always know what season I’m in until I’m already halfway through it. Help me hold today loosely — the hard parts without despair, the good parts without grabbing so tight I forget they’re Yours. I can’t see the whole shape of my life the way You can, so I’m handing You the part I can’t see: the beginning and the end. Thank You for being steady in every season I’ve been in, and every one I haven’t gotten to yet. Amen.
Do you think “this too shall pass” is more of a warning for good seasons, or a comfort for hard ones — or does it have to be both to actually be true? Tell us in the comments.
Share This
Solomon had a ring that said “this too shall pass.” Then he wrote a whole book proving it. I needed this reminder today.
Turns out “this too shall pass” isn’t just for hard days — it’s a warning for good ones too. Reading this slowly tonight.
The verse behind Solomon’s ring: “He hath made every thing beautiful in his time” (Ecclesiastes 3:11). Whatever season you’re in, it’s not the whole story.
Questions and Answers
Is “this too shall pass” actually in the Bible?
The exact phrase isn’t a direct Bible quotation — it comes from Jewish folklore about King Solomon’s ring. But the idea behind it is deeply biblical, especially in Ecclesiastes, where Solomon writes at length about how every season of life is temporary and only God sees the whole picture (Ecclesiastes 3:1-11).
What does “gam zeh ya’avor” mean?
It’s Hebrew for “this too shall pass” — the phrase Jewish tradition says was engraved inside King Solomon’s ring, meant to remind him in triumph that his success wouldn’t last forever, and in hardship that his pain wouldn’t either.
Why did Solomon write Ecclesiastes?
Solomon, who had unmatched wealth, wisdom, and power, wrote Ecclesiastes as an honest account of chasing meaning through achievement, pleasure, and legacy — and finding all of it temporary (“vanity,” or vapor) apart from a right relationship with God.
What does Ecclesiastes 3:11 mean?
It means God has made everything fitting for its own appointed time, and placed a sense of eternity in every person’s heart — but no human being can see or fully understand the complete shape of what God is doing from beginning to end. It’s why we’re told to trust Him with the parts we can’t see.
Is “this too shall pass” only for hard times?
No — Jewish tradition says Solomon’s ring was meant to humble him in his best moments just as much as it comforted him in his worst. Ecclesiastes spends real time warning that achievement and pleasure fade just as fast as pain does, which is why the phrase works as a check on pride, not just a comfort in suffering.
