Pharaoh’s Frogs Series

When the phone rings at midnight and all you hear is running water instead of a voice—that’s chaos.

A friend told me once, “I woke up to the sound of my house drowning.” A pipe had burst under the sink. Water was gushing across the kitchen floor, soaking into the cabinets, pouring toward the hallway carpet. He was running around half-awake with towels, a bucket, a mop—and no plan. Later he laughed, “I wasn’t fixing anything; I was just panicking efficiently.”

Have you ever been there?

Not with a pipe maybe, but with life?

One day everything’s calm, the next it feels like the water’s rising faster than you can grab towels. Maybe it’s finances. Maybe it’s your health. Maybe it’s family. Chaos doesn’t ask permission. It floods in, uninvited, at the worst possible time.

Israel knew that feeling. They’d been slaves in Egypt so long that chaos felt normal. Their work, their food, even their children’s lives were at Pharaoh’s mercy. Egypt was powerful, organized, impressive—but spiritually toxic. They lived in a system that worshiped everything but the true God. The Nile River was their pride, their economy, their security. They called it divine.

Then God sent an old shepherd with a stick. “Let my people go,” Moses said. Pharaoh laughed. “Who is the Lord, that I should obey his voice? I do not know the Lord” (Exodus 5:2 ESV). That single question launched one of the greatest showdowns in history. The answer came, not through debate but through power—ten plagues that exposed every false god in Egypt.

We’re looking at the first three today.

They’re not random punishments.

Each one is God saying, “I’m still the Creator. Chaos doesn’t win. I do.”

Let’s walk with Moses for a moment.

The River That Bled

Pharaoh’s out for his morning ritual. He strolls down to the Nile, his crown catching the sunrise. He believes the river is sacred—a gift from the gods, maybe even a god itself. Egypt’s poets sang about it. Farmers worshiped it. The Nile flooded like clockwork and brought life to the land. Egypt’s slogan could’ve been: In Nile we trust.

Then God sent Moses to meet him there. Exodus 7:19: “And the Lord said to Moses, ‘Say to Aaron, “Take your staff and stretch out your hand over the waters of Egypt … that they may become blood.”’”

The staff strikes the water, and the river that had sustained a civilization suddenly reeks of death. Fish float to the surface. Wells turn foul. The people dig beside the banks, desperate for clean water. The magicians of Egypt copy the sign by their tricks—but think about that: they didn’t fix anything; they just made more blood. That’s humanity’s best imitation of God—we can pollute, but we can’t purify.

What Egypt worshiped turned against them. The god of the Nile couldn’t save his own river. And here’s the point for us: anything we elevate above God will eventually bleed us dry. When our source of life becomes our idol, the Lord may let it spoil to show us the truth.

Ever have that happen? A job that once energized you starts draining you? A friendship that once felt life-giving turns sour? Sometimes the water turns red so that we’ll stop pretending it’s the fountain of life.

A Nation of Frogs

Then came the second plague. Exodus 8: “And the Lord said to Moses, ‘Say to Aaron, “Stretch out your hand with your staff … and make frogs come up on the land of Egypt.”’”

And they did. Frogs everywhere. On the ground, on the beds, in the ovens, in the mixing bowls. When people reached for bread, frogs jumped out. Pharaoh’s magicians duplicated the trick—which is hilarious when you think about it. Egypt already had more frogs than it could handle, and their solution was to make more.

It’s a good picture of how sin works. We create our own misery and then double it trying to fix it ourselves.

They were everywhere—in the beds, in the ovens, even in the dough. Egypt didn’t need Crazy Frog on YouTube; they had the real thing croaking live. You could say it was the accidental start of French cuisine—cuisses de grenouille—that’s French for frog legs, or as it looks to the rest of us, cus the granola! And let’s not even start on the tadpoles—or the eggs. They were everywhere. Egypt woke up inside a giant grenouille omelet!

Pharaoh finally had enough. He called Moses and said, “Plead with the Lord to take away the frogs … and I will let the people go.” Moses asked a strange question: “When shall I plead for you?” And Pharaoh said one of the saddest words in Scripture—“Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Not now. Not today. Tomorrow.

Why do we do that?

We say, “Lord, I’ll quit tomorrow. I’ll forgive tomorrow. I’ll trust You tomorrow.” Pharaoh would rather spend one more night with the frogs than surrender today. And we laugh at him, but we’ve done it too.