Going to the venue (a function building called the Beverly Pavilion), we passed by big, beautiful houses - the kinds that cost millions to build. Though I was driving and had to follow another vehicle to the venue, and hence, didn't have the luxury of visually exploring the place - I couldn't help but notice these houses. My amazement climaxed when we arrived at our destination - a pavilion nestled on the edge of hill (cliff-ish?) overlooking a ravine and the city.
The cool air and the ambiance quickly took me to a trance-like state as I can't believe I never left the city at all. In fact, I was at the very heart of it. The beauty of the place got me thinking about how much people would pay just to have this view from their balcony; and even how much people would pay just to hold an event in such a place.
From my vantage point, the horizon was blurred by storm clouds and the city seems harmless and serene. I almost got lost in the moment until I refocused my eyes on the immediate surrounding. I can't believe I missed the shanties dotting the other side of the ravine.
I wondered: if one of the houses near the pavilion was mine, would I be able to look out the window every morning knowing what "disturbing realities" await right outside?
Then it hit me: looking at reality (and life) straight in the face boils down to one thing - perspective.
One can look at the "shanties of life" - realities that often bring us down; one can look to city and its lights - mesmerizing escapes that are often just around the corner; one can look at the horizon and get lost in the tug-of-war between earth and sky; or one can look up - to God, have faith, and see that the sourness of reality is indiscernible in the sweetness of His love.
2 Corinthians 4:17-18
17 For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 18 So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.