How to Find Pink When Your Life Feels Crushing

Sometimes pink peeks through, like a ribbon of lace crisscrossing the sky. I see the color from my car and wish there were another stoplight before my turn so I could take it in a moment longer. As soon as I pull into the driveway, I jot down a line. Because the sunrise spilling through the cracks in the clouds has me thinking. 

Perhaps God knows we need the pink–a glimmer of His goodness–to hint at what we can’t fully see. 

Could it be that the contrast of cloud and color makes the pink pop? That without the leaden grays we’d take the light for granted?

What if God embeds hope in plain sight to proclaim that He’s present?

Maybe the slivers of space between the clouds resemble the cracks in a clay pot, the brilliant pink the light of Christ inside us. And when we feel most shattered is when He is most readily seen.

I turn to 2 Corinthians 4:7-10 and read this familiar passage in my favorite translation:

⁷ But this beautiful treasure is contained in us—cracked pots made of earth and clay—so that the transcendent character of this power will be clearly seen as coming from God and not from us. ⁸ We are cracked and chipped from our afflictions on all sides, but we are not crushed by them. We are bewildered at times, but we do not give in to despair. ⁹ We are persecuted, but we have not been abandoned. We have been knocked down, but we are not destroyed. ¹⁰ We always carry around in our bodies the reality of the brutal death and suffering of Jesus. As a result, His resurrection life rises and reveals its wondrous power in our bodies as well.

(The Voice)

I think of friends with burgeoning grief, friends practicing daily surrender, friends clinging to hope in seasons that feel overwhelmingly tender, and I see Christ in them as beautifully as the pink lacing through the billowing clouds. The tensions accentuate the treasure inside. The aches that break them open increase their trust in our unfailing God. And the God-supplied grace to face each new hard day brings glory to our good-hearted Father.

Like fractured clay jars, they radiate light that was never meant to be confined.

They are resurrection vessels.

Candles cupped in trembling hands.

Faces lifted to the sky.

Sunrise observers, all of them.

How to Find the Pink

Maybe you, my friend, need to see a glimpse of pink today. You’re praying for a breakthrough, believing for a miracle, standing in faith for what you cannot yet see. Maybe you wonder how long this season will last. How much harder it can possibly get. 

I’m not here to tell you just to hang in there. Neither can I promise a replica of what I saw in the sky. But I can point you towards the pink–the goodness, glory, and greatness of our God. 

I know beyond knowing that the clouds obscuring our vision don’t diminish God. I’ve seen His kind timing in the rearview mirror too many times to think God doesn’t have a plan. A good plan. A trustworthy plan. I’ve felt unmistakable peace enough times to remind my heart that He’s here, even when He doesn’t appear to be present. I’ve witnessed His generosity, been strengthened in a way I can’t explain, and seen Him squeeze good out of the very hard often enough to count on His character.

God’s track record throughout history and in my own life assures me that what I see is but a sliver of goodness wider and higher than the sky. What turns me towards the light is to praise God before He steps in. Before He rights the wrongs. Before He turns the terrible into something triumphant. 

I like to call it nevertheless gratitude. 

This sort of thanks is grounded in trust. We bank on the consistency of God even though we have yet to comprehend the extent of His faithfulness in this exact situation. It trains our eyes to see the slivers of pink in the sky, light splitting the darkness, hope bursting through.

November 30-Day Challenge

What if we practice together, you and I, for a stretch of 30 days? Imagine what gifts of grace and goodness we might find if we committed to thanking God in advance of His answering, intervening, redeeming!

The November gratitude challenge isn’t about putting a cheery face on what is resolutely hard in your life. It’s about lifting your eyes so you can catch glimpses of the light before you fully see. It’s naming God’s faithfulness in the tensions and the trenches, the trials and the temptations, the tender and the tiresome.

Maybe these glimpses of pink appear in other people–cracked clay jars alight with resurrection hope. Maybe you find them in nature–in a sunrise, in a sound, in a sustaining resource. Maybe you notice them in your home–so close you almost miss them.

The challenge prompts will guide your eyes towards glimmers of our faithful God in places we often overlook. You’ll snap a quick picture to capture what you find, then drop it into a free, easy-to-use Canva template and share it online. Written right on the graphic is this line:

Before You intervene, rescue, or redeem . . . thank you, Lord, for this reminder of Your faithfulness.

Your photo testimonies of God’s faithfulness just might be glimmers of pink someone else needs.

The challenge begins Nov. 1. Download the prompts (either as a phone-screen-size graphic or a printable), the social media share template (and instructions on how to use it), and invites to send to a few friends here:

Until November, here’s a prayer to take with you:

Lord, lift our eyes when the clouds feel crushing. May we see pink peeking through–evidence of Your good heart and consistent faithfulness–in the people around us, the spaces where we live, and the world You created. In Your name, Lord, we pray. Amen and amen.

Just a friend over here in your corner,

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