This morning I was at the office early. It has been raining off and on for over a week, and along the back side of the office property there is a small wooded pond that forms after long rains. After enough consistent rain the frogs take over that small pond.
As I parked and walked in to the office this morning, as is my usual routine, I was listening to Albert Mohler's daily briefing when I once again hear the frogs. But my mind went in a different direction...
As a design engineer I often marvel at how effortlessly God made all things, not merely as chunks of rock and organic material, but unarguably beautiful systems. While trying to solve some days-long problem with a design, many times I have had to stare at a sunrise in dwarfed awe.
This morning was no different. I've got some problem I'm trying to solve [hopefully] today that has perplexed me for a couple of days. And these rain frogs are all croaking and chirping and groaning. There must be dozens of frogs making all sorts of sounds. Then it hit me- they are glorifying God. God made them to do what they are doing, and they are thus glorifying God by doing what they were made for.
The moment was overwhelming.
I belong to a good church, but we never such a joyful noise. I had to walk out to the edge of the pond and listen. At the edge of the pond the sound was almost deafening. There as a light rain still falling and in the distance thunder was rumbling. It was almost daybreak and though I wouldn't see it for the clouds, there was sure to be another beautiful sunrise. I went inside to get a cup of coffee, still thinking about the worship service I just witnessed.
What if the frogs could talk? What if God permitted a frog and I to speak for a few minutes? Then my mind was flooded with much darker thoughts.
Of course, if I asked one of the frogs why they are making such a noise, an intelligent frog would say "because we were made to do this." I would have to admit to the frog not only were they fulfilling the commands of their creator, but seemed to be enjoying themselves (salute to John Piper). I imagine that even a most humble frog would have to agree they are doing a perfect job.
An inquisitive frog might reply: "Can you show me what the creator made you to do? Can you take me to a group of your kind and let me see what the creator made you to do? You seem much bigger and more sophisticated."
I teared up.
In my imagined conversation with one of God's most basic creatures, I would have to admit we aren't close to the creator. That hasn't always been the case. We were, for a brief period very long ago, very close. But we stopped doing what the creator made us for. We abandoned Him.
"Abandoned? We never imagined the thought. Aren't you supposed to do what the creator made you for?", my reptilian friend may ask. I would have to agree in defeat that he is correct, we are supposed to.
Probing, the frog may ask, "Perhaps, because your species is more intelligent, you found something better." WAIT. The frog would not ask such a question- "did we find something better." The very question is laden with sin. It is full of betrayal and deceit. How would the frog ever imagine the creature should overrule its creator?
"Then what does your species do?" I would have to change the subject. What could I claim as ours? War? Murder? Deceit? Did we ever do anything good outside His power?
With the clock winding down to zero, an observant frog would ask, "What are those things covering your body?" It would take me a minute to realize he's asking about my cloths. This small frog, in all its glory, would never think of clothing. I would have to reply as croaks began to reclaim the frogs articulations, our cloths originally came from animals, because in our sophistication, we needed a savior.
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