Lakeside Whispers

The water shimmered in soft oranges and rose-gold as the sun began to sink behind the trees. I sat at the edge of the lake, watching the sky slowly melt into hues of lavender and amber, and I let the stillness wrap around me.

I didn’t expect to find Him here. Not in the ache I carried into this place, not in the quiet of evening. But there He was.

Jesus.

Sitting beside me, at the shoreline where the day meets its end and the soul finds room to breathe.

I had come to the lake to be alone. To think. To reflect. Maybe even to cry. There’s something sacred about the way water mirrors the sky, how it holds both chaos and calm. I thought I came here to be with my thoughts… but I wasn’t alone.

No miracles. No booming voice. Just Him.

He didn’t speak right away.
He didn’t need to.

The light of the setting sun lit His features, and His eyes held that soft, knowing compassion. The kind that sees everything and still chooses to stay.

We sat together in silence for a moment, just watching the light dance on the water.

Then He spoke.

“I met Peter here, too. Right here on similar shores. He had failed. Denied. Run. But I didn’t come to condemn him. I came to restore him.”

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

Because I’ve run too.
I’ve failed. I’ve doubted. I’ve believed the lie that I was too much… or not enough.

But Jesus didn’t show up to shame me. He came to sit with me. In the stillness. In the ache. In the softness of twilight where healing begins.

He pointed toward the lake, “cast your net again.”

I hesitated, “But I’ve already tried… already hoped… already hurt.”

“And I’m still here,” He said. “I know the empty places. But I also know where the fish are.”

His hand brushed mine. Steady, present, loving. And I realized… He wasn’t talking about fish.

He was talking about me.
About my calling.
My restoration.
My worth.

“Come have dinner,” He smiled, like He once told the disciples after His resurrection, “Come sit with Me again. Let’s begin again.”

So I stayed a while longer at the lake with Jesus.

We didn’t fix everything that evening.
But something in me began to rest.

Scripture to reflect on

John 21:12: “Jesus said to them, ‘Come and have breakfast.’ None of the disciples dared ask him, ‘Who are you?’ They knew it was the Lord.”

Prayer

Jesus, thank You for meeting me in the quiet moments of sunset. Thank You for sitting beside me when the weight is heavy and my heart is tired. I know You see me, fully, and still draw near. Teach me to cast my net again, even when I feel empty. Show me how to trust You in the in-between. And remind me, when the world quiets down, that You are never far. I’m Jesus name, Amen.