Julian of Norwich's Trinity of Maker, Lover, Keeper

Contemplative Reflection of Julian's Experiences of God in the Season of Trinity on God as 'Maker'

In this week following Trinity Sunday in the Christian Church Calendar, I want to explore these metaphors for encountering God as Higher Power starting with God the Maker in the Trinitarian God. I am inspired by the substack writing of

Julie Dunstan

and Streams in the Desert.

To be clear, Julian never uses these metaphorical terms directly herself, but these terms were named in contemporary contemplative and feminist theology in the late 20th century onwards, as theologians sought language for God that reflected Julian’s experiential and metaphorical approach to the Trinity. Writers such as Carol P. Christ, Catherine Mowry LaCugna, and Elizabeth Johnson found Julian’s approach helpful in reimagining the Trinity not as a doctrine of power but as a dynamic relationship of love.

First Reflection: Experiencing God as ‘Maker’

There is a quiet power in the way Julian of Norwich speaks of God. In an age haunted by plague, political instability, and spiritual fear, she offers a vision of divine love that is so expansive, so tender, that it remains radical even now. In one of her most memorable and deeply contemplative phrases, she writes:

“God is our Maker, our protector, our eternal lover.”¹

Each of these words carries weight, but it is “Maker” that grounds her mystical vision. For Julian, God as Maker is not a distant Creator who fashioned the world long ago and then withdrew. Rather, the Maker is present now - intimately involved in our becoming, in the breath that fills our lungs, in the very substance of our being. God as Maker is both origin and nearness, mystery and immediacy, source and sustenance.

To say “God is our Maker” is not to speak of a single moment in cosmic history but of a relationship that is always unfolding. Julian’s contemplative insight invites us to see divine creation, (and this is not a literalist understanding of how the cosmos and we came to exist) as not something that is finished, but as something continually happening. We are not static human beings, but ongoing human becomings - works of love. We are not merely the result of divine intention - we are the recipients of divine attentiveness. Our existence is not an accident nor a transaction. It is an act of love repeated moment by moment. In this sense, to speak of God as Maker is to speak of a God who is always at work - not as a mechanic or designer, but as a lover who delights in the ongoing life of the beloved - you and me!

This is a profound basis for contemplative and mystical theology and practice. It is not satisfied with creeds or systems. It seeks to know God not as a concept (often out of an unconscious desire to control of the rational mind), but as a living presence (as a spiritual desire for encounter from the trans-rational heart). Julian’s understanding of the Maker cannot be separated from her deep contemplative attention to the presence of God in all things, (panentheism). She does not speculate from afar. She listens. She waits. She receives visions not of wrath or punishment, but of a love so vast and intimate that it overwhelms the mind and soothes the soul.

In one of her most famous images, Julian sees a small thing the size of a hazelnut resting in the palm of her hand. She asks what it is and is told:

“It is all that is made.”

She marvels at its fragility, how such a small thing can continue to exist. And she is told:

“It lasts and ever shall, for God loves it. And so have all things their beginning by the love of God.”

That image - a fragile hazelnut, small enough to vanish between our fingers, yet held forever in the love of God - speaks more than volumes of theology. It points to a central truth that lies at the heart of contemplative spirituality: all things exist in and through divine love. Not just galaxies and forests, but our ordinary lives. Our struggles. Our pain. Our longing. Our very breath. Nothing is too small or too broken to be held in the Maker’s hand. The hazelnut becomes not just a symbol of the cosmos, but of the human individual ‘self’ - tiny, vulnerable, and yet endlessly beloved.

This way of understanding God as Maker invites a different way of seeing the Christian Scriptures of the Bible as well. It urges us to move beyond literalism and rigid doctrine toward a more contemplative, poetic engagement with the biblical text. In Genesis, when God creates the world and sees that it is good, Julian helps us to hear this not as a one-time declaration, but as a continuing affirmation. “It is good” becomes an eternal word spoken over all creation, including us.

In Psalm 139, the psalmist echoes this intimate making:

“For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.” (Psalm 139:13)

And the prophet Isaiah hears God say:

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” (Isaiah 43:1)

In the Gospel of John, the most contemplative of the Gospels, the mystical connection between God the Maker (rendered God the Father in doctrine) and God the Word (Jesus) becomes radiant:

“All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.” (John 1:3)

This is not the God of distance or domination, but the Word made flesh, the Maker who becomes part of what is made—not to fix it from above, but to transform it from within.

Julian’s vision is not naïve. She does not turn away from suffering or the harshness of life. She herself suffered greatly - likely from illness, isolation, and grief. And yet, she speaks of God’s love as something stronger than all suffering. In one of her most mysterious and oft-quoted revelations, she hears the words:

“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”

This is not a denial of pain. It is a declaration that even pain is not beyond the reach of the Maker’s love. It is a mystical affirmation that there is a deeper truth than tragedy - a love that undergirds all things and will, in time, make all things whole.

To speak of God as Maker in this way is also to challenge modern assumptions. In a culture obsessed with self-creation and personal achievement, Julian reminds us that we are not self-made. We are divinely-made. We are loved into being. Our worth is not something we must earn or defend—it is already given. This is a radical word in a world driven by performance and competition. It is a word of rest, a word of homecoming. To know ourselves as formed by love is to be freed from the illusion that we are alone in the universe. It is to awaken to the truth that we are already known, already seen, already held.

For those who are spiritual but not religious, Julian’s voice may come as a surprise. Here is a Christian mystic who does not speak in the language of judgment or exclusion, but in the language of intimacy and gentleness. She does not demand belief in dogma but invites trust in a love that is already near. Her theology is not about gatekeeping the divine but about unveiling the sacred that is already present in your life. Whether you name it God or Spirit or Mystery, the essence of Julian’s vision is clear:

“The love of God creates us, the wisdom of God guides us, the mercy of God saves us.”

I encourage those who are reading this and consider themselves to be spiritual seekers rather than followers of Jesus to suspend that critical voice and allow yourself space to explore encounter with the divine God as Maker with the spiritual practices below - allowing yourself to experience and value this encounter of the source of all love and being through encounter of a Higher Power, a God as Maker.

For contemplative Christians, Julian’s image of God as Maker renews the invitation to prayer not as asking or striving, but as resting. To pray is to return to the Source, to open the heart to the one who is always creating us anew. Julian teaches us that we can meet God not just in transcendent moments from outside of ourselves - in nature, in beautiful places, but also in the depths of our own being, in the fragile beauty of the present moment, in the stillness where we sense we are held.

To live in the awareness of God as Maker is to live with reverence. It is to see the world not as a problem to be solved, but as a mystery to be honoured. It is to walk gently, to listen deeply, to find in silence the echo of the One who made us. It is to remember, in every moment of doubt or despair, that we are still being made. That our story is not finished. That the hands that formed the stars also form our hearts.

Julian’s vision of God as Maker is not just a relic of medieval mysticism. It is a living gift for our time. Such an approach to experiencing God as Maker also encourages us to encounter God as Mother and Father. This approach to a less androcentric experience of God is critical in an age of toxic masculinity. In a world that often feels oppressive, fragmented and frantic, Julian offers a vision of divine presence that is both profoundly cosmic and deeply personal. The Maker of all things is also the One who holds you now. The One who breathes life into galaxies is the same who sustains you.

You are not abandoned.
You are not accidental.
You are not alone.

You are formed in love.
You are being made in love.
And nothing - not death, not doubt, not even despair - can unmake what the Maker has begun in you, so let today be the day where you allow yourself to lean into this spiritually. Here are some contemplative spiritual practices to encounter God as Maker

Contemplative Practices for Encountering God as Maker

Inspired by Julian of Norwich

Here are five simple spiritual practices to help you experience God as Maker—grounded in Julian of Norwich’s mystical vision and accessible to both contemplative Christians and spiritual seekers.

1. Holding the Hazelnut
Find a small object from nature—a stone, a seed, a nut, or a leaf. Sit quietly and hold it gently in your hand. Let it become your focus. Remember Julian’s vision when she saw a hazelnut in her palm and was told:

“It lasts and ever shall, for God loves it. And so have all things their beginning by the love of God.”

Let this object symbolise the fragility and belovedness of all creation—including you. Rest in silence, trusting that you, too, are made and held in love.

2. Breath Prayer: “Made in Love, Held in Love”
In a quiet space, close your eyes and breathe slowly and deeply. As you inhale, say silently:
“Made in love…”
As you exhale, say:
“…Held in love.”
Repeat this for 5–10 minutes. Let your breath become a reminder that you are continually created and sustained by the Maker, moment by moment.

3. Lectio Divina with Creation
Instead of reading a text, choose something in the natural world—a flower, a tree, the light on a surface. Gaze at it slowly, reverently, as if it were sacred scripture. Julian wrote:

“God is in everything that is made.”

Ask yourself: What is God revealing to me through this? Let it speak to you without words. Close by offering a prayer of gratitude for what was revealed or simply received.

4. Contemplative Affirmation
Begin your day with this short affirmation, slowly and prayerfully:

I am made in love,
I am sustained by love,
I am becoming through love.

Repeat it aloud or silently. Let the truth of your belovedness sink deeply into your being, grounding you in God’s ongoing creative love.

5. Sacred Stillness with the Maker
Set aside 10 minutes each day to sit in silence. You might begin with the verse:

“Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)

Then gently let go of the words. Simply rest. Let God, your Maker, be present to you in the silence. Trust that you are being held, even when you sense nothing.

These practices are invitations to experience what Julian knew so deeply: that God is not distant, but near; not only the origin of life, but its gentle and ongoing unfolding. In her words:

“The love of God creates us, the wisdom of God guides us, the mercy of God saves us.”

May you come to know yourself as made in love, held in love, and becoming through love.

1. From her writings on Revelations of Divine Love.

Photo by Wolfgang Vrede on Unsplash