Ever live near pond of these crooning buggers?
It’s like every one of them has their own internal guitar amp and come nightfall, they just let ‘it rip, full bore, all the way to “ten”.
Sorry for you if your a cricket trying to practice your cello or viola near a concert of these squelching beasties, or if you’re trying to sleep.
Can’t even hear yourself think when these little ones gather for a jam session.
No amount of sound-proof walls, dynamite, insecticide, pesticide, sound-canceling headphones, earplugs or even death can stop the sound of amped-up amphibians who’ve survived to sing another night, croaking their throaty decibels into the wee hours of the morning.
It may not be easy being green, as a famous frog once said, but it is apparently no end of relief for these marsh-dwelling wailers to endlessly croak about living through their emerald-tinted woes.
Maybe their songs include the difficulties of living in two ecosystems.
The water’s too cold
The land is too hot
What more can be told
By the proverbial frog in a pot?
Or maybe they recount the dangers of unseen predators of the deep darkness of murky swamps and the terrible, unseen swiftness of a raptor’s claw from the skies above.
Old Uncle Ned
In dark, murky gallons
Escaped catfish dread
But got caught by the talons.
Or perhaps, like us, they look up at the star-filled night sky, take in a few deep breaths of fresh air and gratitude and crank it all out, wailing a joyful noise to their Creator.
Folks, there’s much to learn from these fired-up croakers.
We, too, inhabit two worlds, often torn between them, pressed on every side by the murky depths of temptation and danger in this world or buffeted by the talons of principalities and powers of the unseen world. We press on toward the upward call, yes, but man is that not easy sometimes.
But it’s in the press and woe of this world where making a joyful noise becomes extraordinarily encouraging for our wearied souls. Sing and make a joyful noise unto the Lord! Cry out, croak if you have to. Let the Lord Jesus hear your voice.
More importantly, let Him hear your heart. Doesn’t matter what the key is. Just sing.
If you barely survived escaping a hungry catfish only to find yourself frantically hopping away from the razor-sharp claws of a raptor, sing! Who cares if you croak? Who cares what the choir director or the people next to you say?
I know when I sing, I sing off-key and loudly and will often cry (partially because I cannot carry a tune!), but partially because I know the Lord Jesus knows why I’m singing.
When it’s not easy being green, take it from the frogs and toads.
Croak with amplitude to Jesus.