The rabble who were among them had greedy desires; and also the sons of Israel wept again and said,” Who will give us meat to eat? We remember the fish which we used to eat free in Egypt, the cucumbers and the melons and the leeks and the onions and the garlic, but now our appetite is gone. There is nothing at all to look at except this manna.” 

Say to the people, “Consecrate yourselves for tomorrow, and you shall eat meat; for you have wept in the ears of the LORD, saying, ‘Oh that someone would give us meat to eat! For we were well off in Egypt.’”

—Numbers 11:4-6, 18a

In the last few weeks, I’ve taken up medical fasting—and discovered something unexpected about spiritual growth in wilderness seasons. I was concerned about my blood sugar. So I started doing either an 18-hour fast or a 24-hour fast a couple of times per week. It’s been effective in bringing down my blood sugar a bit, but I’ve also learned something I didn’t expect to learn—that it’s not as hard to get through a fast as I thought it was.

For years I’ve avoided fasting because I was quite convinced it would be the most miserable experience of my life. Didn’t matter if it was a spiritual fast or a medical fast. I was convinced that I would be wracked with miserable hunger pangs and that I’d eventually pass out. Turns out, it’s no more miserable than being a bit sore the day after a good workout. 

I understand that everyone’s body is different. Some people have specific health needs that prevent them from fasting, so this isn’t a post meant to say that everyone should do a full water fast all the time. But I do think that this example reveals something about our culture’s relationship with comfort and spiritual discipline (and the culture of the Hebrews leaving Egypt)—we tend to be a touch more attached to comfort and pleasure than is good for us.

What Fasting Taught Me About Spiritual Discomfort

Getting started with fasting, I’ve discovered my body doesn’t need to eat three meals per day. In fact, given the ease with which I’ve adapted to fasting—and my diminished capacity for large meals—I’d say I needed the challenge of fasting.

And we see something similar in Numbers 11 with the Hebrews. At this point, they’ve been in the wilderness for a minute. They’ve had time to get the Ten Commandments and navigate the golden calf debacle. Moses has received the incredibly specific instructions from the Lord about the design of the tabernacle. The artisans have already come together, gathered the materials, and assembled the Tent of Meeting.

By now, the people of Israel had already seen God lay waste to Egypt, part the Red Sea, descend on a mountain, and send Moses back with a glowing complexion. They’d even seen His presence rest on the Tent of Meeting in the form of a cloud.

Even so, by the time we get to Numbers 11, the people are complaining so much that Moses begs God to take his life rather than make him keep dealing with the knuckleheads of Israel. And what were they complaining about? Food.

Why God’s People Complained Despite His Provision

It wasn’t even that they truly lacked provision. They had manna from heaven daily. They just didn’t like the food that had been provided for them. In the passage for today, the people go so far as to list all the things they miss from Egypt.

It’s an interesting thing to focus on. A strange choice. God has performed numerous miracles in their presence. He heard their cries when they were enslaved, and He delivered them. He even provided money for the trip by making the Egyptians eager to give the Israelites their gold and silver. And in the midst of all of this goodness, they decided to complain about not having some onions?

The Danger of Trading Freedom for Minor Pleasures

It seems silly, but I think we can fall into a similar trap when faced with the choice to stay enslaved in ease or to follow God outside our comfort zone. The people of Israel were being tempted to go back to a place of slavery because of the minor pleasures of a slightly more varied diet. We can also be tempted back into the enslaving power of sin because of the minor comforts and pleasures that accompany it. That’s why it’s so important to remember that there’s a purpose for the wilderness.

Yes, God led His children into challenging terrain. Yes, He turned a two-week journey into a forty-year trip. But He had a really important reason. Every day spent in the wilderness fostered a spirit of freedom in His people. They had been slaves for generations. That’s all they knew. But with each step, God was setting them free from that mindset and teaching them the beauty of sonship. And He still does this with us today.

Embracing Wilderness Seasons as God’s Path to Freedom

It doesn’t matter what challenge we’re facing. It may be something as simple as learning to fast or a more difficult challenge. Regardless, we must remember that wilderness seasons come with a purpose. It’s not something to shy away from or avoid. Rather, it’s something that should send us running to our Father when we encounter it. 

The next time you find yourself in a wilderness season—whether through fasting, financial pressure, relational difficulty, or spiritual dryness—remember the Israelites’ story. God isn’t punishing you with discomfort. He’s freeing you from the slave mentality that keeps you reaching back toward Egypt’s onions. Every uncomfortable season is an invitation to trust your Father more deeply and discover the freedom that only comes through surrender.