Prisoners Of Hope

Prisoners Of Hope

I read this morning that they’ve stopped actively searching for any survivors of last week’s Marine helicopter crash off the coast of Hawaii.

My heart has been a mess of sorrow since last Friday morning when I first heard about it from a dear friend, whose brother-in-law is among the men missing. He was here, and now he isn’t. Just like that. Miles of ocean have been covered in the search, but nothing substantial has been recovered.

The discovery of 3 empty inflated life rafts feels like a particularly brutal find.


As I’ve been praying and weeping over this horrible situation, my one word has come repeatedly to mind. I’ve hung my head muttering, asking, how does one have hope in a situation that seems hopeless? How do you pray for the best possible outcome when you can’t imagine there’s the potential for anything reminiscent of a silver lining?

lights_KC copy

Christie’s first book will be on bookshelves in a couple of weeks, and as I was reading it the other night, I came across this quote,

“God walks with them, always already in the darkest places. He is especially present in the very places we imagine he cannot be.” ~Christie Purifoy, Roots & Sky

Roots And Sky_KC

The silver lining I’m looking for isn’t the possibility of a positive circumstance, but the ever-present person of Jesus Christ. Even in the folds of despair His presence still shines. This morning, the words of Zechariah called we who believe, “prisoners of hope”.


Return to your stronghold, O prisoners of hope. (Zechariah 10:12)

These words arrest me. What is a prisoner, but someone confined or kept in the custody of another. God keeps us in His custody, we are confined by the Holy.

When the weight of hopelessness presses in, when fear and doubt and trepidation wrack our hearts, we are told to return to our place of strength, our place of refuge and protection–to be kept in the custody of the ONE who is Hope.

Return, O Prisoners of hope. 

We who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf… (Hebrews 6:18-20)

Return to your stronghold.

The stronghold is where we surrender, where the prisoners of hope receive a life sentence for eternity.

Return to your stronghold, O prisoners of hope.

Let your comfort be in your Keeper, your Stronghold who has gone before you, and goes with you into the darkness even now.


*A Meal Train has been started for the Campell family (Christie’s sister, and children). If you’d like a tangible way to show some love and hospitality to these hurting souls, CLICK HERE.


Sharing this story in community with Jennifer Dukes Lee #TellHisStory


  1. My heart is just breaking for these families. To even begin to imagine the despair that is so easy to feel in a time like this nearly guts me. However, this quote that you posted: “God walks with them, always already in the darkest places. He is especially present in the very places we imagine he cannot be.” – went right to my core. How we can nearly forget if we don’t hold on to that hope.

    My prayers are with your friend and her hurting family. May they never give up hope. And may her book be a gift in the hands of many who need to hear her words and find hope that is lost.

  2. Lynn D. Morrissey

    Kris, I don’t know your friend, Christie, but I’ve recently become cognizant of her work via Shelly Miller, and now, you. I can’t fathom the tragedy that her sister, the children, she, and her family are experiencing at the loss of this dear, beloved man. I am so very sorry for your dear friend and will pray for God’s comfort and mighty sustaining power and provision in their lives. Your message to them, to us, on prisoners of hope is so powerful and I hadn’t thought of it in this light. We can’t escape God’s custody….and we can’t escape the hope in which He imprisons us in order to protect and shelter us. We can’t escape hope when all our circumstances scream hopelessness. Lately I’ve been reading 2 Samuel 22 repeatedly from The Message: “God is bedrock under my feet, the castle in which I live, my rescuing knight. My God—the high crag where I run for dear life, hiding behind the boulders safe in the granite hideout; My mountaintop refuge, he saves me from ruthless men. I sing to God the Praise-Lofty, and find myself safe and saved.” It would seem that David was a prisoner of hope, safe in the refuge of His God. Heaven is the ultimate refuge and hope, because Hope, Himself, Jesus Christ dwells there in all His glory. This is the sure hope to which I know that Christie and her family are clinging. Shawn Campbell is alive in His presence. I can’t possibly fathom their pain at his absence with them now. But I am praying that they will never lose hope in knowing that he lives in His eternal refuge. Bless you for being such a good friend to Christie.

    1. Kris Camealy Author


      Thank you for your thoughtful comment. I had not thought of it either. I love that about the Word–the way it continues to come alive, and our hearts continue to be enlightened and stretched into new understandings of what it looks like to belong to God–to BE in His generous custody. He is so faithful.

  3. Lovely, lovely, Kris – words and photos. Thank you for your loving care of all of these dear ones and for the good work you are doing in organizing Christie’s launch team. A privilege to read this book, even though I read much of it through tears of sadness for her dear family.

  4. Kris, this is beautiful. I love that image of being prisoners of hope. We must hope. We can’t escape it. And thanks be to God, there is always Someone to hope in. And that Someone is with us always: “that All, which always is all everywhere.” Yes.


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