And they shall build the old wastes, they shall raise up the former desolations, and they shall repair the waste cities, the desolations of many generations (Isaiah 61:4, KJV).

ABSTRACT

This article argues that the divine pattern of redemption is fundamentally a story of desolation transformed into sacred union, where the deepest breaches—whether in a marriage, a community, or the cosmic covenant between God and humanity—are repaired through sacrificial love, patient endurance, and the restorative power of God’s law, culminating in the ultimate marriage supper of the Lamb. “Thou shalt no more be termed Forsaken; neither shall thy land any more be termed Desolate: but thou shalt be called Hephzibah, and thy land Beulah: for the LORD delighteth in thee, and thy land shall be married.” (Isaiah 62:4, KJV)

WILL LOVE HEAL RUINS?

The profound narrative of human rupture and divine restoration finds a startlingly vivid echo in the contemporary account of two individuals, Sasha Troufanov and Sapir Cohen, whose story of captivity, separation, and eventual engagement following the horrors of October 7, 2023, serves as a living parable. Their journey from the tunnels of Gaza to the promise of the chuppah is not merely a tale of personal resilience; it is a microcosmic enactment of the Plan of Redemption itself. This article will meticulously explore how their experience illuminates the core doctrinal truths of the Great Controversy, the sanctuary message, the repairing of the breach in God’s law, and the church’s preparation as the Bride of Christ. We will dissect the geography of desolation, the theology that fills its void, the architecture that signals return, and the practical responsibility of becoming “repairers of the breach.” In doing so, we will see that the marriage covenant, shattered at Eden and restored at Calvary, is the central motif of God’s work to heal a broken universe, and that every act of faithful love in the face of ruin is a defiant rehearsal for the everlasting union to come. Yet what defines the landscape where this divine drama must unfold?

WHAT DEFINES THE GEOGRAPHY OF DESOLATION?

Desolation is never an abstract theological concept; it is a tangible reality with a specific geography, a landscape where continuity is shattered and the familiar becomes a monument to absence. The sun-bleached silence of the Negev desert, which once spoke of vast emptiness, assumed a new and terrifying vocabulary after the attack on Kibbutz Nir Oz. That silence became the silence of interruption—the bicycle leaning against a stucco wall, the laundry stiffening on the line in the dry heat, the open container of cottage cheese spoiling on a kitchen table, artifacts of a life violently paused. This scene of arrested normalcy is a precise picture of spiritual desolation, a condition where the flow of blessing and relationship with God has been catastrophically severed. The prophet Isaiah surveys a similar landscape of divine judgment, declaring, “Your country is desolate, your cities are burned with fire: your land, strangers devour it in your presence, and it is desolate, as overthrown by strangers” (Isaiah 1:7, KJV). This desolation is the direct consequence of covenant breaking, as outlined in the solemn warnings of Leviticus: “And I will scatter you among the heathen, and will draw out a sword after you: and your land shall be desolate, and your cities waste” (Leviticus 26:33, KJV). Yet, even in this severity, the geography of desolation is never God’s final word, for He promises, “Therefore say, Thus saith the Lord GOD; I will even gather you from the people, and assemble you out of the countries where ye have been scattered, and I will give you the land of Israel” (Ezekiel 11:17, KJV). This gathering involves an internal transformation, a heart surgery: “And I will give them one heart, and I will put a new spirit within you; and I will take the stony heart out of their flesh, and will give them an heart of flesh” (Ezekiel 11:19, KJV). The ultimate promise is one of comprehensive rebuilding: “Thus saith the Lord GOD; In the day that I shall have cleansed you from all your iniquities I will also cause you to dwell in the cities, and the wastes shall be builded” (Ezekiel 36:33, KJV), and “And the desolate land shall be tilled, whereas it lay desolate in the sight of all that passed by” (Ezekiel 36:34, KJV). Ellen G. White provides the cosmic context for such desolation, noting, “Sickness, suffering, and death are work of an antagonistic power. Satan is the destroyer; God is the restorer” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 113, 1905). The inspired pen reminds us that these landscapes of ruin are not capricious but pedagogical: “The furnace fires are not to destroy, but to refine, ennoble, sanctify. Without trial we would not feel so much our need of God and His help; and we would become proud and self-sufficient” (The Signs of the Times, August 18, 1909, par. 5). In The Desire of Ages, we find comfort that “In the trials that come to us we should see the evidences that the Lord’s eye is upon us, and that He means to draw us to Himself” (The Desire of Ages, p. 483, 1898). The original design stands in stark contrast to this desolation, for “God Himself gave Adam a companion. He provided ‘an help meet for him’—a helper corresponding to him—one who was fitted to be his companion, and who could be one with him in love and sympathy” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 46, 1890). This companion was to reflect the divine image, as “Man was to bear God’s image both in outward resemblance and in character” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 45, 1890), and “When Adam came from the Creator’s hand, he bore, in his physical, mental, and spiritual nature, a likeness to his Maker” (Education, p. 15, 1903). The interrupted breakfast in Nir Oz, therefore, is more than a news detail; it is an icon of the Fall’s aftermath, a picture of the breach in the divine-human-family covenant, inviting us into the deeper mystery of how God works in ruins. Yet how does a specific human story become a lens to interpret this divine pattern?

WHAT VOID DOES A HUMAN STORY REVEAL?

Within the overwhelming statistics of tragedy, individual narratives emerge that crystallize universal spiritual truths, turning news into living Scripture. The story of Sasha Troufanov and Sapir Cohen, freed from the ephemeral churn of the news cycle, provides just such a crystalline lens. Their journey from the depths of captivity—a literal and metaphorical underworld—to the threshold of marriage is a tangible enactment of the prophetic movement from forsakenness to espousal. Scripture consistently frames redemption as a passage from darkness to light, affirming that judgment is never absolute: “For thus hath the LORD said, The whole land shall be desolate; yet will I not make a full end” (Jeremiah 4:27, KJV). Even in the midst of ruin, a remnant persists, hinted at in the haunting image, “Because of the mountain of Zion, which is desolate, the foxes walk upon it” (Lamentations 5:18, KJV). The desolation itself serves a divine purpose, astonishing the enemies of God’s people: “And I will bring the land into desolation: and your enemies which dwell therein shall be astonished at it” (Leviticus 26:32, KJV). The prophetic voice laments the state of God’s chosen place: “Thy holy cities are a wilderness, Zion is a wilderness, Jerusalem a desolation” (Isaiah 64:10, KJV). Yet, directly into this void speaks the promise of astonishing reversal: “Sing, O barren, thou that didst not bear; break forth into singing, and cry aloud, thou that didst not travail with child: for more are the children of the desolate than the children of the married wife, saith the LORD” (Isaiah 54:1, KJV). This promise is anchored in a relational covenant: “For thy Maker is thine husband; the LORD of hosts is his name; and thy Redeemer the Holy One of Israel; The God of the whole earth shall he be called” (Isaiah 54:5, KJV). The writings of Ellen G. White deepen our understanding of this marital metaphor, explaining that divine love purifies rather than obliterates human affection: “The divine love emanating from Christ never destroys human love, but includes it. By it human love is refined and purified, elevated and ennobled. Human love can never bear its precious fruit until it is united with the divine nature and trained to grow heavenward” (The Adventist Home, p. 99, 1952). Marriage, therefore, is divinely sanctioned: “Marriage has received Christ’s sanction and blessing and is to be regarded as a sacred institution. True religion does not counterwork the Lord’s plans. God ordained that woman should be united with man in holy wedlock, to raise up families that would be crowned with honor who would be symbols of the family in heaven” (Manuscript 16, p. 1, 1899). Christ’s own ministry affirmed this: “He who gave Eve to Adam as a helpmeet performed His first miracle at a marriage festival. In the festal hall where friends and kindred rejoiced together, Christ began His public ministry. Thus He sanctioned marriage, recognizing it as an institution that He Himself had established” (The Adventist Home, p. 99, 1952). This institution is meant for happiness and growth: “To gain a proper understanding of the marriage relation is the work of a lifetime. Those who marry enter a school from which they are never in this life to be graduated” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 7, p. 45, 1902). Their engagement after 498 days of separation is thus a theological declaration, a defiant act of “repairing the breach” (Isaiah 58:12) that asserts desolation is a temporary state. The Lord promises to restore what was lost: “And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten, the cankerworm, and the caterpiller, and the palmerworm, my great army which I sent among you” (Joel 2:25, KJV), offering a double portion of hope: “Turn you to the strong hold, ye prisoners of hope: even to day do I declare that I will render double unto thee” (Zechariah 9:12, KJV). The vision of restoration is one of paradisiacal transformation: “For the LORD shall comfort Zion: he will comfort all her waste places; and he will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the LORD; joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving, and the voice of melody” (Isaiah 51:3, KJV). This comfort is expressed in marital joy: “For as a young man marrieth a virgin, so shall thy sons marry thee: and as the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so shall thy God rejoice over thee” (Isaiah 62:5, KJV), and the change of names signifies the change of state: “Thou shalt no more be termed Forsaken; neither shall thy land any more be termed Desolate: but thou shalt be called Hephzibah, and thy land Beulah: for the LORD delighteth in thee, and thy land shall be married” (Isaiah 62:4, KJV). This new reality requires expansion and strengthening: “Enlarge the place of thy tent, and let them stretch forth the curtains of thine habitations: spare not, lengthen thy cords, and strengthen thy stakes” (Isaiah 54:2, KJV). The divine intent is clear: “Christ came not to destroy this institution, but to restore it to its original sanctity and elevation. He came to restore the moral image of God in man, and He began His work by sanctioning the marriage relation” (Manuscript 16, 1899). The family founded on this covenant is a profound blessing: “The family tie is the closest, the most tender and sacred, of any on earth. It was designed to be a blessing to mankind. And it is a blessing wherever the marriage covenant is entered into intelligently, in the fear of God” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 356, 1905). The home that results should reflect heaven: “God wants the home to be the happiest place on earth, the very symbol of the home in heaven” (The Adventist Home, p. 259, 1952). This narrative, therefore, is not a distraction from doctrine but a doorway into it, showing how love survives the abyss. Yet what specific contours does this desolate landscape possess for those who must traverse it?

WHAT ARE THE CONTOURS OF SEPARATION’S TERRAIN?

The violence that erupted on Simchat Torah targeted the very fabric of the ordinary, turning a pilgrimage of familial love into a descent into chaos. For Sasha and Sapir, the geography of desolation was first mapped in the sensory details of catastrophe: the sound of motorbikes, the sight of Sasha kneeling with hands behind his head, the dust of the road to Gaza. This “breaking of the vessel” of their shared life mirrors the prophetic descriptions of a sanctuary violated and a people scattered. Daniel foresaw a time when “arms shall stand on his part, and they shall pollute the sanctuary of strength, and shall take away the daily sacrifice, and they shall place the abomination that maketh desolate” (Daniel 11:31, KJV). Isaiah laments the result: “Thy holy cities are a wilderness, Zion is a wilderness, Jerusalem a desolation” (Isaiah 64:10, KJV). Yet, the promise of reversal is equally vivid: “And they shall say, This land that was desolate is become like the garden of Eden; and the waste and desolate and ruined cities are become fenced, and are inhabited” (Ezekiel 36:35, KJV). This rebuilding follows cleansing: “Thus saith the Lord GOD; In the day that I shall have cleansed you from all your iniquities I will also cause you to dwell in the cities, and the wastes shall be builded” (Ezekiel 36:33, KJV). Sometimes, the wilderness itself becomes the place of divine encounter: “And I will bring you into the wilderness of the people, and there will I plead with you face to face” (Ezekiel 20:35, KJV). The gathering is an act of mighty power: “I will bring you out from the people, and gather you out of the countries wherein ye are scattered, with a mighty hand, and with a stretched out arm, and with fury poured out” (Ezekiel 20:34, KJV). Ellen G. White contextualizes such desolation within the great controversy: “The Saviour’s prophecy concerning the visitation of judgments upon Jerusalem is to have another fulfillment, of which that terrible desolation was but a faint shadow. In the fate of the chosen city we may behold the doom of a world that has rejected God’s mercy and trampled upon His law” (The Great Controversy, p. 36, 1911). Within this framework, trials are not random but refining: “Trials well borne will develop steadfastness of character, and precious spiritual graces. The perfect fruit of faith, meekness, and love often matures best amid storm-clouds and darkness” (The Desire of Ages, p. 483, 1898). Divine grace is promised as sufficient: “The Lord has shown me that His grace is sufficient for all our trials; and although they are greater than ever before, yet if we trust wholly in God, we can overcome every temptation and through His grace come off victorious” (Early Writings, p. 46, 1882). These trials test and develop principle: “Every heart will be tested, every character developed. It is principle that God’s people must act upon. The living principle must be carried out in the life” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 1, p. 222, 1855-1868). The bitter cup of suffering has a purifying purpose: “God has shown me that He gave His people a bitter cup to drink, to purify and cleanse them. It is a bitter draught, and they can make it still more bitter by murmuring, complaining, and repining” (Early Writings, p. 47, 1882). The moment of separation, marked by Sapir’s last sight of Sasha running and the sound of gunshots, became the defining punctuation of their story, a period that lasted 498 days. This scattering is prefigured in Scripture: “And I will bring the land into desolation: and your enemies which dwell therein shall be astonished at it” (Leviticus 26:32, KJV). But the promise of healing follows: “For I will restore health unto thee, and I will heal thee of thy wounds, saith the LORD; because they called thee an Outcast, saying, This is Zion, whom no man seeketh after” (Jeremiah 30:17, KJV). Restoration includes the return of joy: “Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit” (Psalm 51:12, KJV). The required posture is one of courageous waiting: “Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD” (Psalm 27:14, KJV), for “The LORD is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul that seeketh him” (Lamentations 3:25, KJV). Sr. White encourages endurance in trial, noting victory strengthens us for the next: “If we overcome our trials and get victory over the temptations of Satan, then we endure the trial of our faith, which is more precious than gold, and are stronger and better prepared to meet the next” (Early Writings, p. 46, 1882). Patience is essential: “We must let patience have its perfect work, remembering that there are precious promises in the Scriptures for those who wait upon the Lord” (Our Father Cares, p. 123, 1991). Our work in the waiting time is active: “Waiting, watching, working, praying, warning the world—this is our work” (Evangelism, p. 219, 1946). We must not seek premature relief but grace to endure: “We are too quickly discouraged, and earnestly cry for the trial to be removed from us, when we should plead for patience to endure and grace to overcome” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 1, p. 310, 1855-1868). Paul’s life stands as a testament to sharing in Christ’s sufferings: “Paul was a man who knew what it meant to be a partaker of Christ’s sufferings” (The Acts of the Apostles, p. 467, 1911). For Sasha, the tunnel became an anti-creation, a prison in time devoid of Sabbath rhythm; for Sapir, the subsequent “interim” in a Ramat Gan hotel room became a geography of suspended animation, a waiting room filled with shoes lining the perimeter and a model of 770—the Lubavitcher headquarters—wrapped in cellophane. This transient state is a known biblical condition: “And the LORD shall scatter thee among all people, from the one end of the earth even unto the other; and there thou shalt serve other gods, which neither thou nor thy fathers have known, even wood and stone” (Deuteronomy 28:64, KJV). Yet the call to remembrance and return persists: “And it shall come to pass, when all these things are come upon thee, the blessing and the curse, which I have set before thee, and thou shalt call them to mind among all the nations, whither the LORD thy God hath driven thee” (Deuteronomy 30:1, KJV). God’s people are called to a holy distinctiveness: “But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light” (1 Peter 2:9, KJV), a truth rooted in Exodus: “And ye shall be unto me a kingdom of priests, and an holy nation. These are the words which thou shalt speak unto the children of Israel” (Exodus 19:6, KJV). This identity is based on God’s love and choice: “For thou art an holy people unto the LORD thy God: the LORD thy God hath chosen thee to be a special people unto himself, above all people that are upon the face of the earth” (Deuteronomy 7:6, KJV), not for their numbers but His love: “The LORD did not set his love upon you, nor choose you, because ye were more in number than any people; for ye were the fewest of all people” (Deuteronomy 7:7, KJV), “But because the LORD loved you, and because he would keep the oath which he had sworn unto your fathers, hath the LORD brought you out with a mighty hand, and redeemed you out of the house of bondmen, from the hand of Pharaoh king of Egypt” (Deuteronomy 7:8, KJV). He is a covenant-keeping God: “Know therefore that the LORD thy God, he is God, the faithful God, which keepeth covenant and mercy with them that love him and keep his commandments to a thousand generations” (Deuteronomy 7:9, KJV). Sr. White affirms the prophetic gift as an identifying mark: “The Scriptures testify that one of the gifts of the Holy Spirit is prophecy. This gift is an identifying mark of the remnant church and we believe it was manifested in the ministry of Ellen G. White” (Fundamental Beliefs, 1911). She also foresaw the church’s trials: “Our Saviour foresaw the trials and dangers of His people; He is not unmindful of the dissensions and divisions that distract and weaken His church” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 5, p. 236, 1889). The scene of the spoiled cottage cheese is a stark modern parallel to Jesus’ description of the days of Noah and Lot, where life is interrupted in the midst of mundane consumption: “As it was in the days of Noe, so shall it be also in the days of the Son of man” (Luke 17:26, KJV). The faithful remnant, however, will be like a life-giving dew: “And the remnant of Jacob shall be in the midst of many people as a dew from the LORD, as the showers upon the grass, that tarrieth not for man, nor waiteth for the sons of men” (Micah 5:7, KJV). The ultimate hope is a new creation: “For as the new heavens and the new earth, which I will make, shall remain before me, saith the LORD, so shall your seed and your name remain” (Isaiah 66:22, KJV), where worship is perpetual: “And it shall come to pass, that from one new moon to another, and from one sabbath to another, shall all flesh come to worship before me, saith the LORD” (Isaiah 66:23, KJV). This new order will eclipse the old: “Behold, I create new heavens and a new earth: and the former shall not be remembered, nor come into mind” (Isaiah 65:17, KJV), “But be ye glad and rejoice for ever in that which I create: for, behold, I create Jerusalem a rejoicing, and her people a joy” (Isaiah 65:18, KJV). Israel was entrusted with sacred truth: “The Lord had made the Israelites the depositaries of sacred truth, to be given to the world” (The Desire of Ages, p. 27, 1898), and “God had chosen Israel as His peculiar people, to preserve His truth in the earth” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 314, 1890). True faith transcends external privilege: “It is not earthly rank, nor birth, nor nationality, nor religious privilege, which proves that we are members of the family of God; it is love, a love that embraces all humanity” (Our Father Cares, p. 265, 1991). This love is expressed in Christ-like gentleness: “A Christian reveals true humility by showing the gentleness of Christ, by being always ready to help others, by speaking kind words and performing unselfish acts, which elevate and ennoble the most sacred message that has come to our world” (Steps to Christ, p. 59, 1892). In the hotel room, with its model of a future Jerusalem, we see the tension of living in the “already but not yet,” a tension familiar to the waiting church. Yet what specific theological framework fills the void carved out by such desolation?

WHAT THEOLOGY FILLS THE VOID OF ABSENCE?

The engagement of Sasha and Sapir is not merely a romantic turn in a harrowing story; it is a theological event that actualizes the linguistic and covenantal promises of Isaiah 62:4. The shift from “Forsaken” (Azubah) and “Desolate” (Shemamah) to “Hephzibah” (My delight is in her) and “Beulah” (Married) represents a radical change in ontological and legal status, moving from abandonment to intimate relationship. This covenant language is deeply rooted in Scripture, where the LORD acts as a witness to the marriage covenant: “Yet ye say, Wherefore? Because the LORD hath been witness between thee and the wife of thy youth, against whom thou hast dealt treacherously: yet is she thy companion, and the wife of thy covenant” (Malachi 2:14, KJV). Forsaking this covenant is a grave matter: “Which forsaketh the guide of her youth, and forgetteth the covenant of her God” (Proverbs 2:17, KJV). The prophetic allegory of Ezekiel describes God’s covenant with Jerusalem in explicitly marital terms: “Now when I passed by thee, and looked upon thee, behold, thy time was the time of love; and I spread my skirt over thee, and covered thy nakedness: yea, I sware unto thee, and entered into a covenant with thee, saith the Lord GOD, and thou becamest mine” (Ezekiel 16:8, KJV). The promise of restoration is a promise of re-betrothal: “And I will betroth thee unto me for ever; yea, I will betroth thee unto me in righteousness, and in judgment, and in lovingkindness, and in mercies” (Hosea 2:19, KJV), “I will even betroth thee unto me in faithfulness: and thou shalt know the LORD” (Hosea 2:20, KJV), culminating in the glorious reversal: “And I will sow her unto me in the earth; and I will have mercy upon her that had not obtained mercy; and I will say to them which were not my people, Thou art my people; and they shall say, Thou art my God” (Hosea 2:23, KJV). Isaiah reaffirms this spousal relationship: “For thy Maker is thine husband; the LORD of hosts is his name; and thy Redeemer the Holy One of Israel; The God of the whole earth shall he be called” (Isaiah 54:5, KJV), and addresses the one who feels forsaken: “For the LORD hath called thee as a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit, and a wife of youth, when thou wast refused, saith thy God” (Isaiah 54:6, KJV). Ellen G. White elaborates on the sanctity of this divine-human metaphor as reflected in human marriage: “Marriage, a union for life, is a symbol of the union between Christ and His church. The spirit that Christ manifests toward the church is the spirit that husband and wife are to manifest toward each other” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 7, p. 46, 1902). The institution itself is sealed with divine approval from Eden: “He who made the first holy pair and who created for them a paradise, has put His seal upon the marriage institution, first celebrated in Eden, when the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy” (Manuscript 16, 1899). The grammar of Isaiah’s promise is pivotal: it moves from the negative (“no more termed”) to the positive (“shall be called”), mirroring the gospel’s trajectory from justification (removal of condemnation) to sanctification (bestowal of holiness). Sasha and Sapir’s engagement performs this grammatical shift in real time, moving from the category of “victim” to that of “builder.” This aligns with the paradoxical promise of Isaiah 54:1, that the “children of the desolate” will be more numerous. The tunnels’ suffering, rather than merely destroying, produced a clarified sense of purpose and identity in Sapir, who resolved to become an adam mashma’uti—a significant person. This is the fruit of sanctification, the process of being set apart and made significant for God. The Lord assures us of His good plans: “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end” (Jeremiah 29:11, KJV), and promises responsiveness to our seeking: “Then shall ye call upon me, and ye shall go and pray unto me, and I will hearken unto you” (Jeremiah 29:12, KJV), “And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart” (Jeremiah 29:13, KJV), culminating in a great gathering: “And I will be found of you, saith the LORD: and I will turn away your captivity, and I will gather you from all the nations, and from all the places whither I have driven you, saith the LORD; and I will bring you again into the place whence I caused you to be carried away captive” (Jeremiah 29:14, KJV). Sr. White calls for consecrated readiness: “We must watch; we must pray; and when God says, Whom shall I send to do this errand for Me? we should be ready to respond, ‘Here am I; send me.’ Serious work is to be done. It has been waiting for unselfish, consecrated workers” (Manuscript Releases, vol. 14, p. 310, 1990). True character is tested and developed through principle: “Every heart will be tested, every character developed. It is principle that God’s people must act upon. The living principle must be carried out in the life” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 1, p. 222, 1855-1868). The “breach” mentioned in Isaiah 58:12 is central to Adventist self-understanding, referring primarily to the Sabbath commandment, which was trampled upon and needs repairing. The work of repair is divinely appointed: “The work specified in these words [Isaiah 58] is the work God requires His people to do. It is a work of God’s own appointment. With the work of advocating the commandments of God and repairing the breach that has been made in the law of God, we are to mingle compassion for suffering humanity” (Welfare Ministry, p. 33, 1952). This message is of highest importance for our time: “The whole of the fifty-eighth chapter of Isaiah is to be regarded as a message for this time, to be given over and over again” (Welfare Ministry, p. 29, 1952), and “The whole chapter is of the highest importance” (Counsels on Health, p. 520, 1914). The faithful who do this work are the remnant: “Let all be careful not to make an outcry against the only people who are fulfilling the description given of the remnant people who keep the commandments of God and have faith in Jesus, who are exalting the standard of righteousness in these last days” (Testimonies to Ministers and Gospel Workers, p. 58, 1923). The breach, however, is not only in the law but in the fabric of shalom. October 7 breached physical security, family unity, and moral order. God inhabits that breach in the Person of the “Man of Sorrows” (Isaiah 53), and Sasha’s 498 days in captivity were an inhabiting of that breach. Repairing it, therefore, involves relational restoration as much as theological correction. The Sabbath itself is a marriage between holy time and common time, a weekly repair of the breach between Creator and creature. The Great Disappointment of 1844 created a “desolate” community—the “barren one” who had not borne the expected kingdom. Yet from that desolation, the remnant church was born, bearing the “children” of distinctive truths (the sanctuary, Sabbath, Spirit of Prophecy). Sasha and Sapir’s story re-enacts this: their “disappointment” and “tarrying time” in captivity yielded a depth of experience that made their eventual “marriage” all the more significant. Their union is a microcosm of the new creation, built from the ashes of the old. Yet what is the specific architecture that signals this return from desolation?

WHAT ARCHITECTURE SIGNALS THE RETURN FROM RUIN?

In Jewish thought, the wedding ceremony is a cosmic act of reconstruction. The chuppah (canopy), open on all sides like Abraham’s tent, and the Sheva Brachot (Seven Blessings) recited beneath it, provide the liturgical scaffolding that explicitly links a couple’s joy to the rebuilding of Zion. The Fifth Blessing pleads: “Bring intense joy and exultation through the ingathering of Her children (Jerusalem)… Blessed are You, Adonai, who gladdens Zion through her children.” Here, the bride and groom are not merely individuals; they become Zion’s returning children, their personal joy equated with the city’s restoration. The Seventh Blessing culminates in a sensory vision from Jeremiah: “Soon may we hear in the cities of Judah and the streets of Jerusalem the voice of joy, the voice of gladness, the voice of a lover, the voice of beloved…” This blessing directly answers the silence of desolation with the sounds of covenant love. For Sasha and Sapir, this is not metaphor but lived reality: the “bridegroom’s voice” replaces the sound of the gunshot Sapir heard as Sasha was taken. Scripture paints the picture of this restored joy: “And the desolate land shall be tilled, whereas it lay desolate in the sight of all that passed by” (Ezekiel 36:34, KJV), and the testimony of the nations: “And they shall say, This land that was desolate is become like the garden of Eden; and the waste and desolate and ruined cities are become fenced, and are inhabited” (Ezekiel 36:35, KJV). The comfort of Zion is comprehensive: “For the LORD shall comfort Zion: he will comfort all her waste places; and he will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the LORD; joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving, and the voice of melody” (Isaiah 51:3, KJV). A call to awakening and purity follows: “Awake, awake; put on thy strength, O Zion; put on thy beautiful garments, O Jerusalem, the holy city: for henceforth there shall no more come into thee the uncircumcised and the unclean” (Isaiah 52:1, KJV), “Shake thyself from the dust; arise, and sit down, O Jerusalem: loose thyself from the bands of thy neck, O captive daughter of Zion” (Isaiah 52:2, KJV). Redemption is assured: “For the LORD hath redeemed Jacob, and ransomed him from the hand of him that was stronger than he” (Jeremiah 31:11, KJV). Ellen G. White reminds us of God’s providence: “Our heavenly Father has a thousand ways to provide for us, of which we know nothing” (The Desire of Ages, p. 330, 1898). The Sheva Brachot contain a profound redundancy: two blessings praise God as “Creator of Man.” Commentators explain the first refers to Adam’s creation, the second to the separation of the sexes and their reunion—a “two-stage” creation. This mirrors the hostages’ experience: unity, violent separation, and purposeful reunion. Their engagement is a vayiven moment—a building of the “rib” back into a companion. The Genesis account is clear: “Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh” (Genesis 2:24, KJV). The creation of woman was an act of building: “And the rib, which the LORD God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man” (Genesis 2:22, KJV). Adam’s declaration of kinship follows: “And Adam said, This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man” (Genesis 2:23, KJV). The creation narrative establishes the image of God in the relational pair: “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them” (Genesis 1:27, KJV). They were blessed together: “And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth” (Genesis 1:28, KJV). Their shared name underscores their unity: “Male and female created he them; and blessed them, and called their name Adam, in the day when they were created” (Genesis 5:2, KJV). Sr. White emphasizes the home’s purpose: “God wants the home to be the happiest place on earth, the very symbol of the home in heaven” (The Adventist Home, p. 259, 1952). Effective family government requires unity and calm firmness: “Too often the parents are not united in their family government” (The Adventist Home, p. 310, 1952), and “Uniform firmness and unimpassioned control are necessary to the discipline of every family. Say what you mean calmly, move with consideration, and carry out what you say without deviation” (The Adventist Home, p. 309, 1952). By announcing their engagement while in the United States—a diaspora—Sasha and Sapir demonstrate that the “Beulah” status is a spiritual reality carried within, not contingent on physical geography. They carry the “married land” in their covenant, just as the church carries the New Jerusalem in its hope while walking through Babylon. The breaking of the glass at the wedding’s end remembers the Temple’s destruction, but the ensuing “Mazel Tov!” is a defiant proclamation that life and joy persist. This architecture of return—the chuppah, the blessings, the breaking of the glass—provides a tangible form for the theology of repair. Yet what is the practical outworking of this repair in the life of the believer and the church?

HOW DOES THE BELIEVER REPAIR THE BREACH?

The call to be a “repairer of the breach” (Isaiah 58:12) is the specific, practical mandate that flows from the theology of restoration. For the Seventh-day Adventist, this is first and foremost a call to uphold and proclaim the perpetuity of God’s moral law, with a specific focus on restoring the Sabbath, the sign of the Creator-creature relationship. The Sabbath commandment is foundational: “Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy” (Exodus 20:8, KJV). Its basis is in Creation: “For in six days the LORD made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the LORD blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it” (Exodus 20:11, KJV). Isaiah 58 defines the spirit of true Sabbath-keeping: “If thou turn away thy foot from the sabbath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy day; and call the sabbath a delight, the holy of the LORD, honourable; and shalt honour him, not doing thine own ways, nor finding thine own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words” (Isaiah 58:13, KJV). The promise for such fidelity is great: “Then shalt thou delight thyself in the LORD; and I will cause thee to ride upon the high places of the earth, and feed thee with the heritage of Jacob thy father: for the mouth of the LORD hath spoken it” (Isaiah 58:14, KJV). The Sabbath is a sign of sanctification: “Moreover also I gave them my sabbaths, to be a sign between me and them, that they might know that I am the LORD that sanctify them” (Ezekiel 20:12, KJV), and a continuing sign of the covenant relationship: “And hallow my sabbaths; and they shall be a sign between me and you, that ye may know that I am the LORD your God” (Ezekiel 20:20, KJV). Ellen G. White is unequivocal about the centrality of this work: “The work specified in these words [Isaiah 58] is the work God requires His people to do. It is a work of God’s own appointment. With the work of advocating the commandments of God and repairing the breach that has been made in the law of God, we are to mingle compassion for suffering humanity” (Welfare Ministry, p. 33, 1952). Sasha’s 498 days in a timeless tunnel underscore the horror of a life without Sabbath rhythm—a life of pure bondage. Restoring the Sabbath is thus an act of liberation, inserting divine order into chaos. Every faithfully kept Sabbath is a weekly “Sheva Brachot” recited over a desolate planet, a proclamation that we are married to our Creator, not enslaved to Pharaoh or any other taskmaster. Beyond the Sabbath, the breach repair extends to the family, the “first church.” The attack of October 7 targeted the domestic sphere, aiming to atomize the community. The decision of Sasha and Sapir to form a new family is therefore an act of profound resistance, repairing the breach in humanity’s most fundamental institution. Scripture places the family at the forefront of covenant faithfulness: “But as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD” (Joshua 24:15, KJV). Godly training yields lasting results: “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it” (Proverbs 22:6, KJV). The promises to the restored “barren one” include the instruction of children: “And all thy children shall be taught of the LORD; and great shall be the peace of thy children” (Isaiah 54:13, KJV). The community established in righteousness will be secure: “In righteousness shalt thou be established: thou shalt be far from oppression; for thou shalt not fear: and from terror; for it shall not come near thee” (Isaiah 54:14, KJV). Though enemies may gather, they are not of God: “Behold, they shall surely gather together, but not by me: whosoever shall gather together against thee shall fall for thy sake” (Isaiah 54:15, KJV). The ultimate promise is one of protection: “No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD, and their righteousness is of me, saith the LORD” (Isaiah 54:17, KJV). Sr. White calls for homes that are fortresses of love and principle: “The family tie is the closest, the most tender and sacred, of any on earth. It was designed to be a blessing to mankind. And it is a blessing wherever the marriage covenant is entered into intelligently, in the fear of God” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 356, 1905). True significance, however, is found not in earthly status but in divine love expressed to others: “It is not earthly rank, nor birth, nor nationality, nor religious privilege, which proves that we are members of the family of God; it is love, a love that embraces all humanity” (Our Father Cares, p. 265, 1991). This love is expressed in practical humility and service: “A Christian reveals true humility by showing the gentleness of Christ, by being always ready to help others, by speaking kind words and performing unselfish acts, which elevate and ennoble the most sacred message that has come to our world” (Steps to Christ, p. 59, 1892). Sapir’s resolve in the tunnels to become an adam mashma’uti—a significant person—by caring for others, reveals that the essence of God’s image is love and creative care, even when religious forms are stripped away. This is the heart of sanctification: becoming set apart for God’s use, generating light in darkness. For the church, this means our ministry must be one of distributing not just literature, but meaning; not just doctrine, but hope. We are to be watchmen on the walls (Isaiah 62:6), bearing the burden of witness, daring to hope and rebuild in a world that specializes in despair. The model of 770 on Sapir’s desk points to a future redemption; our “770” is the heavenly sanctuary and the New Jerusalem, the vision that orients all our present waiting and working. We live in the diaspora of this world, utilizing its peace to rebuild strength, but our covenantal loyalty remains with the coming Kingdom. The engagement of two hostages is a theological insurrection, a declaration that the Breach is repaired, the Barren One sings, and the Desolate Land is married. We are collaborators in this same project, employing the tools of truth, compassion, and covenant faithfulness to prepare for the final, unbreakable union. Yet what does this profound narrative of desolation and repair reveal about the very heart of God?

HOW DO THESE CONCEPTS REFLECT GOD’S LOVE?

The entire narrative arc from desolation to marriage is the brightest possible revelation of God’s unfathomable love. Love is not merely God’s disposition; it is His active, restoring power that enters the most profound breaches to mend them. The story of Sasha and Sapir is a finite echo of the infinite love story between Christ and His church, where separation was endured on the cross so that union could be eternally secured. God’s love is an everlasting commitment: “The LORD hath appeared of old unto me, saying, Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee” (Jeremiah 31:3, KJV). It surpasses even the strongest human bond: “Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee” (Isaiah 49:15, KJV). We are perpetually before Him: “Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me” (Isaiah 49:16, KJV). His heart’s desire is for life, not death: “As I live, saith the Lord GOD, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that the wicked turn from his way and live: turn ye, turn ye from your evil ways; for why will ye die, O house of Israel?” (Ezekiel 33:11, KJV). Even when we are self-destructive, His help is present: “O Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself; but in me is thine help” (Hosea 13:9, KJV). His love heals and embraces freely: “I will heal their backsliding, I will love them freely: for mine anger is turned away from him” (Hosea 14:4, KJV). Ellen G. White beautifully articulates that God’s love is the foundational reality of creation: “God is love is written upon every opening bud, upon every spire of springing grass. The lovely birds making the air vocal with their happy songs, the delicately tinted flowers in their perfection perfuming the air, the lofty trees of the forest with their rich foliage of living green—all testify to the tender, fatherly care of our God and to His desire to make His children happy” (Steps to Christ, p. 10, 1892). She continues: “Nature and revelation alike testify of God’s love. Our Father in heaven is the source of life, of wisdom, and of joy” (Steps to Christ, p. 9, 1892). This love is the fountainhead of all mercy: “It is the love of God toward man that is the source of all our mercies” (Steps to Christ, p. 12, 1892). The entire sweep of the Great Controversy is, at its core, a demonstration of this love: “The history of the great conflict between good and evil, from the time it first began in heaven to the final overthrow of rebellion and the total eradication of sin, is also a demonstration of God’s unchanging love” (The Great Controversy, p. xii, 1911). This love invests humanity with incredible potential: “The plan of redemption has invested humanity with great possibilities, and in Christ these possibilities will be realized” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 397, 1905). Ultimately, God’s love is not passive sentiment but active, recreating power: “God’s love for the world is not a sentiment, but a living power” (The Signs of the Times, March 15, 1910, par. 4). The concepts of desolation, breach, waiting, and marital restoration all reflect different facets of this relentless, pursuing, healing love that will not rest until every rupture is repaired and every exiled child is home. In light of this overwhelming love, what then is my personal, non-transferable responsibility?

My primary responsibility toward God, illuminated by this narrative of redemption, is one of wholehearted obedience, faithful waiting, and active participation in His repair work. Love for God is demonstrated through adherence to His will as expressed in His law. Jesus made this clear: “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15, KJV). God promises to create the internal unity necessary for this obedience: “And I will give them one heart, and one way, that they may fear me for ever, for the good of them, and of their children after them” (Jeremiah 32:39, KJV). He initiates and secures an everlasting covenant: “And I will make an everlasting covenant with them, that I will not turn away from them, to do them good; but I will put my fear in their hearts, that they shall not depart from me” (Jeremiah 32:40, KJV), and He rejoices in doing them good: “Yea, I will rejoice over them to do them good, and I will plant them in this land assuredly with my whole heart and with my whole soul” (Jeremiah 32:41, KJV). The great commandment calls for total devotion: “Thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might” (Deuteronomy 6:5, KJV). This command must be internalized: “And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart” (Deuteronomy 6:6, KJV). Ellen G. White affirms this priority: “The first great commandment is, ‘Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind’” (Thoughts from the Mount of Blessing, p. 49, 1896). Obedience is the Christian’s first duty: “Obedience to God is the first duty of the Christian” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 4, p. 253, 1876). Such obedience is the truest expression of love: “The keeping of God’s commandments is an expression of love to God” (The Signs of the Times, June 5, 1901, par. 5). This obedience must flow from a transformed heart, united with Christ’s will: “True obedience comes from the heart. It was heart work with Christ. And if we consent, He will so identify Himself with our thoughts and aims, so blend our hearts and minds into conformity to His will, that when obeying Him we shall be but carrying out our own impulses” (The Desire of Ages, p. 668, 1898). The only service God accepts is the service of love: “The service of love is the only service acceptable to God” (The Signs of the Times, January 29, 1893, par. 4). This love is the bedrock of true religion: “Love to God is the very foundation of religion” (Counsels to Parents, Teachers, and Students, p. 35, 1913). My responsibility, therefore, is to surrender fully to this loving will, to keep the Sabbath holy as a weekly celebration of my covenant with the Creator, to study His Word to understand His character, and to cooperate with the Holy Spirit in the sanctifying work of repairing the breaches in my own character. Like Sapir in the tunnel, I am called to become an adam mashma’uti—a person of significance in God’s kingdom—by allowing His love to refine my motives and direct my actions, even in periods of darkness and waiting. This love for God, however, cannot remain a private sentiment; it must necessarily flow outward. So, what then is my responsibility to those around me?

My responsibility toward my neighbor, derived from the same theology of repair, is to be an agent of healing, compassion, and covenant support. The second great commandment is inextricably linked to the first: “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” (Leviticus 19:18, KJV). This love involves guarding our thoughts and words about others: “And let none of you imagine evil in your hearts against his neighbour; and love no false oath: for all these are things that I hate, saith the LORD” (Zechariah 8:17, KJV). The command is reiterated with divine authority: “Thou shalt not avenge, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself: I am the LORD” (Leviticus 19:18, KJV). This love extends even to the stranger: “But the stranger that dwelleth with you shall be unto you as one born among you, and thou shalt love him as thyself; for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God” (Leviticus 19:34, KJV). It requires impartial justice: “Ye shall do no unrighteousness in judgment: thou shalt not respect the person of the poor, nor honour the person of the mighty: but in righteousness shalt thou judge thy neighbour” (Leviticus 19:15, KJV). It forbids slander and endangerment: “Thou shalt not go up and down as a talebearer among thy people: neither shalt thou stand against the blood of thy neighbour: I am the LORD” (Leviticus 19:16, KJV). Ellen G. White places this commandment alongside the first in importance: “The second commandment is like unto it, ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself’” (Thoughts from the Mount of Blessing, p. 49, 1896). God’s law requires this love for our fellow humans: “The law of God requires that we love our fellow men as we love ourselves” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 4, p. 225, 1876). This love manifests as active interest in others’ welfare: “To love our neighbor as ourselves means to be interested in his welfare” (The Signs of the Times, June 5, 1901, par. 6). The golden rule, exemplified by Christ, is its practical expression: “The golden rule is the principle of true courtesy, and its truest illustration is seen in the life and character of Jesus” (Thoughts from the Mount of Blessing, p. 134, 1896). We are called to a life of self-forgetting service: “We should be self-forgetting, ever looking out for opportunities to cheer others and lighten and relieve their burdens and sorrows by acts of tender kindness and deeds of love” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 193, 1905). Ultimately, love for humanity is the tangible evidence of love for God: “Love to man is the earthward manifestation of love to God” (The Acts of the Apostles, p. 560, 1911). Therefore, my duty is to be a “repairer of the breach” in my community—to offer support to the brokenhearted, to defend the marginalized, to speak peace in conflict, and to uphold the sanctity of family and marriage as God designed it. I must, like Sapir organizing games in the tunnel, look for ways to generate light and order in the dark places of others’ lives, reminding them of their significance in God’s eyes. This work of interpersonal repair is inseparable from the proclamation of the everlasting gospel and the commandments of God, for true compassion ministers to both physical and spiritual need, preparing a people for the marriage supper of the Lamb.

The narrative of Sasha Troufanov and Sapir Cohen is far more than a remarkable story of survival; it is a living parable, a beam of prophetic light illuminating the ancient path of redemption. It shows us that our God is a specialist in ruins, a master of ceremonies who turns funeral dirges into wedding marches. The desolation you may feel—in your heart, your home, or your community—is not the final chapter. The breach, however wide, is destined for repair. The waiting, however long, is preparation for union. You are called to be a participant in this divine repair work, a bearer of the Beulah promise in a world of Azubah. As you keep the Sabbath, uphold truth, love your neighbor, and tend your own heart, you are building the old waste places, strengthening the stakes, and lengthening the cords of the gospel tent. You are rehearsing for the day when the great voice from the throne will finally say, “Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men,” and the silence of all desolations will be swallowed up forever in the sounds of joy, gladness, the voice of the bridegroom, and the voice of the bride. Until that day, we watch, we wait, we work, and we repair, for our Bridegroom comes.

For thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones (Isaiah 57:15, KJV).

Explore more resources on living the covenant life at http://www.faithfundamentals.blog or join the ongoing conversation on our podcast at: https://rss.com/podcasts/the-lamb.

Table 1: The Structure of the Sheva Brachot and Restoration Themes

Blessing #	Theme	Textual Reference	Connection to Restoration
1	Creation of Vine	“Creator of the fruit of the vine”	Joy, celebration, the “New Wine” of the Kingdom.
2	Creation of All	“Created everything for His glory”	The cosmos participates in the union.
3	Creation of Man	“Creator of Man” (Yotzer Ha’adam)	Restoration of the primal human form (Adam).
4	Human Potential	“Fashioned… a lasting mold”	The perpetuity of the human race through family.
5	Zion’s Joy	“Gladdens Zion through her children”	The barren city rejoices when the exiles return.
6	Edenic Joy	“Joy of Eden of old”	Returning to the pre-Fall state of the Garden.
7	Total Restoration	“Voices of joy… in the cities of Judah”	Reversing the silence of desolation (Jeremiah 33).

SELF-REFLECTION

How can I, in my personal devotional life, delve deeper into these prophetic truths, allowing them to shape my character and priorities?

How can we adapt these complex themes to be understandable and relevant to diverse audiences, from seasoned church members to new seekers or those from different faith traditions, without compromising theological accuracy?

What are the most common misconceptions about these topics in my community, and how can I gently but effectively correct them using Scripture and the writings of Sr. White?

In what practical ways can our local congregations and individual members become more vibrant beacons of truth and hope, living out the reality of Christ’s soon return and God’s ultimate victory over evil?

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