Frogs, Hope, and Holy Resistance

Lately, I’ve noticed something delightful happening at the protests around Portland—frogs. Well, actually, it started with a chicken costume. Then frogs showed up. Then two people in inflatables got married.

But now I’m seeing frogs all over the place. Not just one or two, but a growing collection of inflatable frogs, stuffed frogs, squeaky frogs, drawn frogs, and frog hats. These amphibian companions have become small, vibrant symbols of something much deeper than whimsy.

What could be more peaceful than a frog?

They sit still. They watch. They wait. They sing in the rain and leap into life when the moment calls for it. They remind us that joy can be found even in muddy places.

My favorite frog has always been Kermit—the banjo-playing, starry-eyed dreamer who strummed his heart out to “The Rainbow Connection.” He sang about lovers, dreamers, and believers. About hope in color. About finding something more beautiful beyond the gray.

One of the pastors who served the church I grew up at – their first female clergyperson in fact – Lynne Austin – used to bring folks who were in the hospital frogs. She brought them to remind them that they could, “Fully rely on God.” See it? F.R.O.G.? Frogs remind us that this life we are living is not our own, and yet there is whimsy in how we live when we fully rely on God's grace, love, and hope for each of us.

Frogs are fabulous. They’re playful, kind, and profoundly disarming. In a moment when so many would rather provoke anger or incite violence, the frogs remind us that we refuse to take the bait. We will not meet cruelty with cruelty. We will persist in peace. We fully rely on God.

Persistence looks like a field of flowers breaking through the cracks of hard concrete. It looks like love, joy, and laughter—growing right through the difficult places. It looks like fully relying on God during these dark times. Or as I reminded myself in my doodles during my Mom’s church yesterday,: “Persistence is flowers growing through the hard places.”

In a world that feels heavy with empire logic—power, control, fear—we are called to embarrass the empire with our hope. To respond not with weapons or words of hate, but with the gentle persistence of joy.

So bring on the frogs.

Bring on the songs and the laughter, the bright colors and the inflatable hope.

Let us persist like Kermit’s banjo in the rain—off-key, maybe, but full of heart—believing that someday we’ll find our rainbow connection, and all the lovers, the dreamers, and us will be there together.