We recently had pictures taken of our family. They were the best we have ever had.
Every picture is perfect as far as I can tell. (Well, I am still bald, but you can only do so much.) I have the pictures on my phone, FaceBook, television and soon on my wall. Every single picture reflects the love we have in our family. They are snapshots of life.
In the pictures, my children don’t talk back. In the pictures, there are no bills. In the pictures, I can’t see a brain tumor. In the pictures we are static and we look happy.
But the pictures are not my life. The pictures don’t breathe. They are snapshots of life, but they are not alive.
My life is a symphony of happiness and sadness, joy and sorrow, health and sickness, pleasure and pain.
My life has a real story. It has a beginning, a twisting plot, protagonists, antagonists, heroes and villains. And my story will have an end.
I don’t know when it will end. But it will. And the end will not be as beautiful as the beginning, nor as soaring as some of the intervening time, but it is a part of the story none the less.
Life is not a snapshot. Snapshots are pretty to look at, but they are not nearly as rich as real life. I wouldn’t trade my life—even with the twists and turns—for a snapshot. A real, breathing life is something to be treasured. It is the real, eternal life Jesus promised.