Be Like Bach: Devotion for Monday, October 6

A lot of times when I’m working on a sermon, I’ve got classical music playing softly in the background. If there are lyrics, I get distracted—but instrumental music sets the tone without getting in the way. As I write, I’m always praying that the words coming together on the page aren’t just mine, but God’s. My hope is that everything I write points back to him and gives him glory.

Turns out, Johann Sebastian Bach had a similar prayer in his heart. Born in 1685 into a very musical family, Bach faced a rough start—both of his parents died by the time he was just 10 years old. Even with such a difficult beginning, he made a bold decision early on: he wouldn’t just write music—he’d write it for the glory of God.

Most of Bach’s compositions are deeply rooted in Scripture. Albert Schweitzer even called him “The Fifth Evangelist,” putting him in the company of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Pretty high praise! By 17, Bach was already serving as a church organist, and not long after, he was in charge of all the music for worship.

While serving in Weimar, Germany, he wrote a new cantata every month. There was even a stretch of three years where he wrote, orchestrated, and performed a new cantata every week. Talk about commitment!

No one back then could’ve imagined how long his music would endure. But here we are, centuries later, and Bach’s name is still instantly recognizable. His music continues to inspire and move people.

Here’s something I love: at the top of each piece he wrote, Bach would scribble “J.J.” which stood for Jesu Juva—“Jesus, help me.” And at the end, he’d write “S.D.G.” meaning Soli Deo Gloria—“To the glory of God alone.”

Wouldn’t it be something if our lives followed that same pattern? If we began each day whispering “Jesus, help me,” and ended each one with “To the glory of God”?

Now that would be a life well-lived.

Featured art: This Bach portrait was painted by Elias Gottlob Haussmann and is the best known of all. In 1747, Bach joined a group called the Corresponding Society of Musical Sciences—kind of like a club for people who loved studying music. One of the rules of the group was that every new member had to send in a portrait of themselves. The portraits would be used for engravings and included in the group’s official magazine. So, when Bach joined, he sent in this portrait. In the painting, he is holding a piece of music called the Triple Six-Voice Canon because the club had another interesting rule—anyone who wanted to join had to turn in a scientific or mathematical piece of music to show how smart and creative they were. Bach chose this canon to show off both his musical talent and his brainpower.