Remember I no longer live in the Ozarks, but spring has come to my current home. Dogwoods are blazing white, blooming azaleas are everywhere, trees are a thousand different shades of green.
And the frogs are singing.
Our house sits high above a small stream that has been dammed by beavers in several places. That’s created a swampy pond that the frogs love. We like frogs. They eat pesky insects and come in beautiful colors. From where we live, it’s pleasant to hear their chorus, but it’s given me a whole new perspective on the plagues God sent Egypt because they wouldn’t free the Israelites (Exodus 7-11).
I used to think the plague of frogs was the least horrible of all those horrible things. Sure, swarms of frogs coming up from the Nile and going “…into your house and into your bedroom and on your bed, and into the houses of your servants and on your people and into your ovens and into your kneading bowls…” would be pretty nasty. But it didn’t seem to rank up there with killer hail and lice and boils and absolute darkness and all the rest.
Neither the Lord nor Moses mentions the NOISE that must have made those frogs a million times worse. Even one frog at close quarters can be painfully loud. To have swarms of them everywhere around you, and all of them croaking or peeping or whatever Egyptian frogs do–well, that raises the horror level quite a bit.
Frogs in moderation are great, but I’m glad I wasn’t an Egyptian back then! I’m glad I can enjoy them from a distance.