My initial search has yielded some general commentaries on Numbers 11, which discuss Moses' complaint, the people's grumbling, and God's provision. Some results touch on leadership burnout and the weight of responsibility, which is relevant. However, I have not found specific sermons or detailed writings by Doug Wilson on this particular passage (Numbers 11:10-15). The search results for "Doug Wilson" and "Federal Vision" provide context on his broader theological framework, particularly his views on covenant theology, which is helpful for emulating his style. There's also a result on "Grumbling at the Table" which gives insight into his perspective on complaining. To accurately clone his voice and theological application for this specific passage, I need to synthesize his known theological commitments (covenant, objectivity of the covenant, views on leadership and sin) and apply them to the text in a way that is consistent with his overall teaching style. I have enough information to proceed with creating a commentary that is a strong prediction of what he would write, even without a direct sermon from him on this passage. I will focus on applying his known principles to the text clause-by-clause.
Commentary - Numbers 11:10-15

Commentary - Numbers 11:10-15

Bird's-eye view

This passage in Numbers is a raw and visceral moment, not just for the nation of Israel, but for their leader, Moses. We see a man pushed to the very edge of his endurance. The incessant, weeping complaint of the people acts as a lit fuse, and the explosion happens in two directions. First, the anger of Yahweh is kindled greatly against the faithless whining of His people. Second, and this is the focus of our text, the pressure becomes so immense that it provokes an extraordinary outburst from Moses himself. He turns to God not as a serene intercessor, but as an exasperated, burned-out servant who feels utterly crushed by the weight of his calling. He questions God's goodness to him, he renounces any parental responsibility for the people, and he despairs to the point of asking for death. This is not just a story about complaining Israelites; it is a profound look at the crushing reality of leadership in a fallen world and the honesty that God's covenant allows, even when that honesty is frayed with sinful despair.

At its heart, this is a covenantal crisis. The people are rejecting God's provision (the manna) and lusting for the food of their slavery. Moses, as the federal head of the people, feels the full weight of their rebellion as though it were his own failure. His prayer is a tangle of righteous frustration and sinful self-pity, yet he brings it all to God. And God, in His wisdom, will answer not by rebuking Moses, but by providing him with help. This passage is a crucial reminder that God's servants are not stoics or superheroes; they are jars of clay, and the burdens they carry are designed to be too heavy for them, precisely so that the power of God might be displayed in their weakness.

Outline

Context In Numbers

This passage comes shortly after Israel has departed from Mount Sinai. They have received the Law, constructed the Tabernacle, and been organized for their march to the Promised Land. The glory of God is in their midst, and they are moving forward under His direct guidance. Chapter 10 describes the glorious sight of the tribes setting out in perfect order. But the glory of the departure almost immediately gives way to the ugliness of the people's hearts. The grumbling begins at the edges of the camp in the first part of chapter 11, leading to a judgment of fire from the Lord. Now, the discontent spreads from the "rabble" to the whole congregation. Their complaint is specific: they are tired of the miraculous manna and they crave the meat they remember from Egypt. This is not a simple dietary preference; it is a rejection of God's supernatural provision in favor of the remembered comforts of their bondage. It is in this context of widespread, weeping apostasy that Moses, the mediator, finds himself caught between a holy, angry God and a petulant, rebellious people.

Key Issues

The Burden of the Mediator

One of the central themes of the Pentateuch is the role of Moses as the mediator of the old covenant. He stands between God and the people. When the people sin, he intercedes. When God speaks, he relays the message. But here, the strain of that office becomes unbearable. The people are not just sinning in a distant, abstract way; they are weeping at the door of every tent. The sound is inescapable. And God's anger is not a distant theological concept; it is kindled greatly. Moses is in the middle of this covenantal collision.

His cry is, in many ways, a cry against the very nature of his calling. "Why have you laid the burden of all this people on me?" This is the cry of every true pastor, every true father, every true leader who has ever felt the weight of responsibility for souls. The burden is, by definition, too heavy. God does not call men to tasks they can accomplish in their own strength. He calls them to impossible tasks so that they will be driven to Him. Moses is driven to God, but he arrives in a state of near collapse. This is a profound picture of the need for a better mediator, one who could bear the full weight of His people's sin and rebellion without faltering and without sinning in His despair. Moses, the faithful servant, shows us by his breaking point just how much we needed the Son, who would never break.

Verse by Verse Commentary

10 Now Moses heard the people weeping throughout their families, each man at the doorway of his tent; and the anger of Yahweh was kindled greatly, and it was evil in the sight of Moses.

The scene is set with an auditory assault. This is not quiet discontent. This is a cacophony of self-pity, a nationwide pity party. The weeping is "throughout their families," indicating this is a corporate, unified rebellion. Each man is at the doorway of his tent, a public display of his misery. This is performative grief. And God is not fooled. His anger is kindled "greatly." God's anger is not a petty tantrum; it is the holy and just reaction of a righteous King to treason in His own camp. And then we are told it was "evil in the sight of Moses." The word here can mean displeasing, grievous, or calamitous. The whole situation is rotten. The people's sin is grievous to him, and God's hot anger is terrifying to him. Moses is caught in the middle, and the pressure is immense.

11 So Moses said to Yahweh, “Why have You allowed this evil toward Your slave? And why have I not found favor in Your sight, that You have laid the burden of all this people on me?

Moses turns to God, and the dam breaks. His first question is a classic "why" of suffering. "Why have You allowed this evil toward Your slave?" He feels afflicted, personally targeted by this situation. He then interprets this burden as a sign of God's disfavor. This is a mistake we often make in the midst of trial. We assume that hardship means God is angry with us personally. Moses feels that the sheer weight of this leadership role is proof that he has not found favor with God. But the opposite is true. God gives His toughest assignments to those He trusts. The burden was not a sign of disfavor, but rather the very shape of Moses' high calling. Yet, in his exhaustion, he cannot see this. He sees the load, and it feels like a punishment.

12 Was it I who conceived all this people? Was it I who gave birth to them, that You should say to me, ‘Carry them in your bosom as a nurse carries a nursing baby, to the land which You swore to their fathers’?

Here Moses employs a brilliant, desperate metaphor. He is arguing that God is treating him like the mother of this nation, but he disavows the role entirely. "I didn't conceive them! I didn't give birth to them!" He is saying, "They are Your people, not mine." He feels God has commanded him to be their nursemaid, to carry them gently and patiently like a nursing infant. The imagery is potent. A nursing baby is completely dependent, often irrational, and requires constant, tender care. Moses looks at this weeping, whining multitude and says, "I am not their mother. I don't have that kind of affection or patience for them. You are asking the impossible." He is rejecting the pastoral, nurturing aspect of his role because the people are acting like spoiled children, and he has had enough of it.

13 Where am I to get meat to give to all this people? For they weep before me, saying, ‘Give us meat that we may eat!’

Moses now turns to the practical impossibility of the people's demand. He takes their complaint at face value. They want meat, and he is the leader, so they come to him. "Where am I to get meat?" The question highlights his own finitude. He is not God. He cannot create food out of thin air for two million people in the middle of a desert. He is stating the obvious: their demand is unreasonable and impossible for any human leader to meet. He is pointing out the absurdity of their weeping. They are crying to him for something only God can provide, yet their tears are a form of rebellion against the God who is right there with them.

14 I alone am not able to carry all this people because it is too heavy for me.

This is the simple, honest heart of the complaint. "I cannot do this." After all the rhetorical questions and frustrated metaphors, he states the plain truth. The burden of leadership, of mediating for this stiff-necked people, is too heavy for one man. And he is right. It was too heavy. Jethro had told him as much back in Exodus 18 regarding the judicial load. Now the spiritual and emotional load has reached its breaking point. This is a moment of profound human weakness, and it is a necessary moment. A leader who thinks he can carry the full weight of his people is a dangerous man. A leader who knows he cannot is a man God can use.

15 So if You are going to deal thus with me, please kill me at once, if I have found favor in Your sight, and do not let me see my wretchedness.”

This is the bottom. Despair has now fully set in. Moses sees only two options: the continuation of this unbearable burden, or death. He asks for death as a favor, a strange and twisted plea. "If I have found favor in Your sight... kill me." It's as if to say, "If you have any kindness for me at all, put me out of my misery." He would rather be dead than continue to face his own "wretchedness." This wretchedness is likely his own inability to solve the problem, his own misery in the face of the people's sin and God's anger. He feels like a complete failure, and he cannot bear to look at the mess any longer. Like Elijah under the juniper tree, the prophet of God is overwhelmed and wants out. It is a sinful prayer, born of unbelief and despair, but it is an honest one, and God will answer the honesty, not the sinfulness.

Application

This passage is a bucket of cold water for anyone who imagines that leadership in God's kingdom is a glamorous affair. It is often a heavy, heartbreaking burden. Pastors, elders, fathers, and mothers will all have moments where they feel the crushing weight of responsibility for rebellious, complaining, or foolish people. In those moments, we are tempted to despair as Moses did. We are tempted to see the burden as a sign of God's displeasure. We are tempted to lash out and disown the very people God has given us to lead. We may even be tempted to wish for an escape, for the whole thing to just be over.

What do we do? We must do what Moses did right, and avoid what he did wrong. What he did right was take his complaint directly to God. He did not murmur against God to the people; he complained about the people to God. Our prayers are a place for raw honesty. God can handle our frustration, our anger, and our despair. But we must avoid the sin that was tangled up in Moses' honesty. We must not accuse God of being unfair. We must not give in to the unbelief that says, "This is impossible," without adding, "but with God all things are possible." And we must never seek escape in despair, but rather seek grace in our weakness.

Ultimately, this passage throws us upon Christ. Moses buckled under the load. He was a sinner leading sinners. But we have a High Priest who can sympathize with our weaknesses, yet without sin. Jesus carried the full weight of all His people. He was surrounded by grumbling disciples, demanding crowds, and hateful enemies. He was a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief. Yet He never faltered. He never despaired. He never prayed for His own death to escape the mission. Instead, He prayed, "Not my will, but yours, be done," and walked to the cross to bear the burden that would have utterly crushed Moses and that would utterly crush us. When the burden of leadership is too heavy, the answer is not to ask for death, but to look to the one who died and rose again, and to cast our impossible burdens upon Him.