Heroes of Faith: Julian of Norwich

Musings on the Feast Day of Julian of Norwich

May 08, 2025

Today is May 8th, the feast of the 14th-century mystic and theologian Julian of Norwich. I first encountered Julian’s writings a few years ago while doing a deep dive into the lives of early church fathers and mothers. I was deeply fascinated and convicted by her writing and her life. So I could not let the day pass without writing and sharing a little about her.

We know little about Julian’s early life (she was born around 1342 and died c.1416). Julian was not even her real name. She took the name from St.Julian’s church in Norwich, where she spent the majority of her life as an anchoress. In the 14th century, when people lived a religious life, they withdrew into monastic communities. She is known as the first woman to write in vernacular English.

Around the age of 30, Julian fell gravely ill with a deadly virus. A local priest was called to perform her last rites. But instead of dying, on the seventh day of her illness, Julian received a series of sixteen visions of Christ’s Passion. These brought her great peace and joy, and she was completely healed.

“From that time, I desired oftentimes to learn what was our Lord’s meaning,” she wrote, “and fifteen years after, I was answered in spiritual understanding: ‘Would you learn the Lord’s meaning in this thing? Learn it well. Love was his meaning. Who showed it you? Love. What did he show you? Love. Why did he show it? For Love.”

Julian had long desired three gifts from God: “the mind of his passion, bodily sickness in youth, and three wounds—of contrition, of compassion, of will-full longing toward God.” Her illness brought her the first two wounds, which then passed from her mind. The third, “will-full longing” (divinely inspired longing), never left her.

Soon after she recovered, Julian became a recluse, an anchoress at Norwich. As the name suggests, an anchoress literally means someone attached or walled into a building. In this case, Julian was walled into a cell attached to the local parish church. She vowed to be in that place, her little space, forever. This would be an odd way for us to live, but it would also be brilliant. She could devote herself to prayer and contemplation while being connected to society.

Julian’s cell had three windows, one opened into the church so she could worship and receive communion, the second opened and overlooked the garden, and the third overlooked Norwich's street.

She was not a nun, nor was she a common lay person. She was someone in the margins, fully engaged in the life of the church and the city. She was in a safe, interesting, sacred, and secular space. People knew where she was and could come to her for prayer and conversation. She promised she would never leave, and she never did. They came to her for counsel, spiritual insight, and prayer. They told her their troubles, and there were many in 14th-century England!

Not all of Julian’s visions were gory; some were different. In one, God revealed to her a small round object, like a hazelnut, small enough to hold in her palm. And Julian hears God say, “This is everything that has been made. This is all of creation. It lasts and it will always last because I love it.”1

Julian knew that everything in life was tenderly sustained and kept alive by God. She knew God was good and always close to us. There was no sugarcoating the pain and sorrow people experienced as they came and shared it with her. She listened and communicated with the people, nature, and the church. But she never stopped questioning or wrestling. She knew good and evil existed, but held onto God’s love. She questioned God about the existence of evil, as many of us do. We might not live in 14th-century England, but we suffer and struggle. Pain and evil exist and surround us.

But God told Julian, “What is impossible to thee is not impossible to me. And God’s impossible way only remains known to God.”

Julian is best known for the quote, “All shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well.” The quote became popular when it was featured in a poem by T.S. Eliot.

Julian’s writings in Revelations of Divine Love tell us that the story of God is not over and not complete, but that it is a good story, and all shall be well. God’s love is eternal and overcoming. Alarming and painful things will surround us, but we needn’t be undone.

In her lifetime, Julian was not considered a theologian or visionary. She worked on her book for decades. If anything, she was known as a wise counsellor who patiently listened to others. She belonged to no particular order or any hierarchical church. Her focus was on her “ even Christians”, others like herself who are “ordinary” and whose path to God is in the lay state, even though their way of living may have differed from hers.2

Julian lived an unusual life, never leaving her room, and became very popular during her time. People left money to sustain her and the two servants who cared for her. She knew she needed others to survive, as we all do, and she grew in self-knowledge, acceptance, and friendship. She learnt to trust what she was provided with and received what was given with grace.

Her windows enabled her to live in a form of duality, where one holds onto the temporal and the other the eternal. She spent her days in solitude, a great deal of silence and prayers, conversing with all those who came up to her.

Her life and writings tell us that we are loved beyond our knowing, held in ways we cannot fathom, and secured by God’s love. There will be pain and suffering. Mortality is real, and so is God’s love for me and you. Julian’s wise counsel often consoled those whom she spoke with, and that is a good reminder for me today.

Am I a good listener to those around me? Do I crave solitude in prayer, and if not, why? Do I fear it? The windows in Julian’s cell symbolize a life lived between the church and the city, between our world, God, and humanity. Do I live in an awareness of that? I, too, live on earth in a broken world, but I also have hope in Christ, and I have the church. How do I look out the windows of my life, listen to those in need, and offer encouragement while wrestling with God and trusting in His all-knowing, all-encompassing, and compassionate love for me?

Julian’s words may have been written long ago, but they are still relevant today.

So I pray these words of Julian of Norwich and make it our prayer today and every day:

Lord, let not our souls be busy inns that have no room for thee or thine,

But quiet homes of prayer and praises where thou mayest find fit company,

Where the needful cares of life are wisely ordered and put away,

And wide, sweet spaces kept for thee; where holy thoughts pass up and down

And fervent longings watch and wait thy coming.3

Monday Morning Musings

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