Julian of Norwich

Julain Icons by Robert Lentz (first and third) and Lu Bro (center)

I first heard about Julian of Norwich over 40 years ago when someone taught me a song written by Sydney Carter. ("Ring out, Bells of Norwich and let the winter come and go. All shall be well again, I know.")

I didn't know much about her, but I loved her message that all shall be well. It is a message that I need a lot—being a chronic worrywart and all. Over the years, Julian has become a good friend of mine. In her writings, she said, "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."

A few years after I first heard of Julian I had the fun starting The Upper Room's first website. That was in 1996, when the internet was still a bit like the Wild West. I decided that we should have a feature on The Upper Room's website called "Ask Julian." Visitors to the website could submit questions to Julian. The questions were answered by "Julian's friends" and posted back in a sort of "Dear Abby" for spiritual questions.

In creating the feature, I was inspired by Julian. The real Julian—this mystic from the 14th century—was a writer. Her book, Revelations of Divine Love, is thought to be the earliest surviving book written in the English language by a woman. Called to be an anchorite, she lived about 40 years in a cell attached to The Church of St. Julian in Norwich, England. Julian lived through the time of the Black Death in Europe, when 1/3 of England's population died from the disease.

We don't know much about her early life—whether she was married or had any children. We do know that on May 8, 1373, Julian, aged 30, was in bed with a serious illness. Two days before, she had received the Last Rites of the Church. Everyone thought that she would die any minute. She had lost the feeling from her waist down; the room grew dark as her sight began to fail.

But she did not die. Instead, over the next 11 hours, she experienced a series of 15 visions. In these visions (she called them showings), Jesus came and spoke with her, telling her things about God, Christ, the Holy Spirit, and the life of Christians. And on the following evening, she received one final vision.

After Julian was well (she was healed almost immediately) she made a decision to give her whole life to meditation, prayer, and service. She heard the call to become an anchorite, a person who lives in a tiny room called a cell or an anchorhold—and to stay in it forever. An anchorite was a person called to a solitary life, not a life cut off from the world, but anchored in it. The anchorite makes a lifelong commitment to one place, one space, and never leaves it, no matter what.

I imagined Julian in her cell, opening her window to the world and listening to the questions of the heart brought to her by those from the outside world who sought her counsel. I imagined Julian as the patron saint of counselors or therapists or spiritual directors. Grounded in her faith and her vow of stability, she made room for those who came to her with their hearts, loves, losses, ponderings, brokenness, and stories of life.

Questions of the Heart

Each time I logged in to the website to see the new questions submitted to "Ask Julian," I felt like I was entering a holy space. The honesty and vulnerability of the questions astonished me. They were questions of the heart. Questions too personal, too deep, too tender to talk about with a spouse, a friend, a teacher. But these pilgrims sitting at their computers could ask these questions as they sat next to Julian's virtual window.

Over several years, we collected hundreds of questions from people hungry for answers. There were more questions than we had the capacity to process. We posted a message that "Julian had gone on sabbatical" and removed the submission page. People wrote us to ask when Julian would be back from sabbatical. They yearned to be able to ask questions and have them answered in love and in wisdom.

Eventually, this feature was removed from the website. I still have in my files the questions and answers that were on the website and sometimes I scroll back through them and remember.

Julian and her words have been my North Star for many years. She wrote, "God did not say, 'You shall not be tormented, you shall not be troubled, you shall not be grieved', but God said, 'You shall not be overcome.' ... And all shall be well."

My Julian Icons

I've been working on creating my own Julian icons through the process of block printing. I am delighted to tell you that I have completed my first limited edition block print — All Shall Be Well — an edition of 25 prints on 8x10 paper, each signed and numbered by hand. I'll soon be sharing more about their availability.