In our smallness and fragility, we can find God’s love.
Six hundred years ago, Julian of Norwich lived in a world wrought by pandemic, persecution, war, and seismic change. As she prayed for reassurance from God, she had a vision of a hand gently holding a tiny, round thing no bigger than a hazelnut. Julian was so compelled by this vision that she spent the rest of her life shut away in a single room contemplating its meaning, eventually writing the spiritual classic Revelations of Divine Love. This miniscule thing, Julian wrote, represents all that is made. We and all creation are so small in comparison to God—yet God counts us precious.
When author Keren Dibbens-Wyatt first learned about Julian’s Revelations, she not only found parallels to her own life as a person housebound by chronic illness, but also discovered a great source of comfort and wisdom for Christian faith today. Many of us feel small and helpless in the face of global issues, wondering where God is in these turbulent times. Julian’s hazelnut vision reminds us that we are cradled in the love and safety of God.
As a modern-day mystic anchored to home by chronic illness, Dibbens-Wyatt offers these lyrical, concise meditations on contemplation, creation, and learning to accept our smallness and fragility. This hazelnut wisdom is wholly reassuring and stirs a deep and abiding faith in a God who created us, cares for us, and sustains us in love. All That Is Made invites readers into Christ-centered prayer and into perceiving the world and themselves as made, kept, and loved.
Keren Dibbens-Wyatt is a writer and artist with a passion for prayer, poetry, story, and colour. She is a Christian contemplative who writes to encourage and entertain readers of all ages.
Keren is the author of numerous books including All That Is Made (Herald Press, 2025) and Recital of Love (Paraclete Press, 2020). Her work also features regularly in literary journals and anthologies. She lives in southeast England with her husband and is housebound due to chronic illness.
This short, dense, deep, challenging, yet approachable book by Keren Dibbens-Wyatt, All That Is Made, made me deeply uncomfortable, which usually means God is trying to communicate something I need to hear. Rats.
The concept of contemplatives and mystics was relatively alien to me when I picked up this book. But as someone with a chronic pain condition, Dibbens-Wyatt’s explanation of her discovery of Julian of Norwich, the fourteenth-century Christian mystic, through her own chronic illness knocked me sideways. Dibbens-Wyatt uses the condition that has left her housebound and mostly bed-ridden as an entryway to Julian’s great “shewing” from God in the “small round thing” the size of a hazelnut.
Meant as a companion piece to that shewing of Julian’s, Dibbens-Wyatt explains that Julian, living as she did during the time of plague, likely suffered the loss of family and friends. She also almost died herself, which led her to revelations from God, after which she dedicated the rest of her life to contemplation and prayer as an anchoress in the cathedral at Norwich. There were moments in the book my skeptical mind balked at the idea of Julian’s shewings or the way God has revealed himself to Dibbens-Wyatt. Far more often, however, Dibbens-Wyatt struck a deep chord through the poetry of her language. Her unfolding of the importance of Julian’s small round thing being held in God’s palm drew together how often humans use their palms with significance—swearing oaths, telling futures, giving alms, raising praises and prayers, and coming in piece. She reminds us that ”God is holding the remains of our earthly lives as deeply precious, just as he does with our tears and our brokenness.” (111)
And there lies the important discomfort of the book. Dibbens-Wyatt doesn’t offer readers the triumphant ending that sees her healed of her illness and partaking fully in life outside once more. While I wish that deeply for her, the book has stuck in my heart because it does not end on that note. Julian never left her cell. Readers will ask themselves throughout the book just what we are to do with suffering that does not lift. That suffering exists at all. The response from Julian and from Dibbens-Wyatt is deeper and more challenging than I will be able to integrate fully in this lifetime: “we have meaning because of the hand in which we are held and to whom we belong. That we exist and live by the grace of love. That we are made, kept, and beloved.” (53)
I will return to this book. Clearly Dibbens-Wyatt’s and Julian’s experiences are meant to teach me more about my ongoing pain and the struggles in life. It does not always make it feel better. It does feel less lonely.
"If you are a spiritual seeker, if you are undergoing suffering, or if you are interested in contemplative living, may I prescribe All That Is Made for you? I believe it will do your heart good and lead you to fuller wellness, wilder love, and deeper joy."
So Brian McLaren writes in his Foreward to this book, and I couldn't agree more. As a chronic pain sufferer, I am finding this book relatable and relevant.
Although I had heard of Julian of Norwich I wasn't deeply familiar with the writing. Dibbens-Wyatt introduced me to her fascinating story in a readable way. I immediately sought out an accessible translation to refer to as I read this book. She explains Catholic and historical differences to a modern lay (and even Protestant!) reader.
As someone looking for an introduction to the contemplative life, I am finding her experience and insights valuable. She defined mysticism for me and introduced me to modern mystics as well as some additional historical, traditional writings.
As well as these introductions, the author concentrates mainly on Julian's vision of a small round thing, "the size of a hazelnut" in this book. It is a book to savour, so I haven't finished it, but I'm thoroughly enjoying grazing my way through it.
Thank you to NetGalley for the advanced review copy of this book.
This book holds many facets--a thoughtful exploration of the work of Julian of Norwich, a vulnerable testimony to the author's own struggles, and a philosophical and theological wondering at the immensity of the love of God. I was so blessed by this read! It prompted me to not only delve more deeply into the ancient practices of contemplative communion with God but also reexamine my own understanding of my relationship with the Lord. For cautious seekers and eager supplicants alike, this book tenderly and thoughtfully reminds us of our value to God, Who holds "all that is made" in His sustaining love.
*I received a free PDF of this book from the publisher. All opinions are my own.
In a world demanding we become ever louder and larger, Dibbens-Wyatt (and Julian of Norwich) invite us to realize that we are loved as we are: small and fragile. That our true task is not to seek greatness but to seek Christ--- and that practicing contemplation can sustain us on this countercultural task. All That is Made has earned a place on my bookshelf, and I plan to return to it often. My soul needs the quiet truth of this timeless and timely reminder.