The Signature on Every Score

At the bottom of nearly every manuscript Johann Sebastian Bach composed — whether a towering cathedral mass or a simple teaching piece for his students — he wrote three letters: S.D.G. Soli Deo Gloria. To God alone be the glory.

Bach didn't reserve that inscription for his sacred works. It appeared on secular cantatas, instrumental concertos, and keyboard exercises alike. For Bach, there was no dividing line between sacred and ordinary. Every note served the same purpose. He once wrote that the aim of all music "should be none other than the glory of God and the refreshment of the soul."

What strikes me is that Bach wasn't always celebrated in his lifetime. He spent decades as a church musician in Leipzig, sometimes clashing with town councils over budgets and choir boys. He wasn't composing for fame. He was composing because he understood his purpose — and purpose doesn't require applause to be real.

The Apostle Paul put it this way: "Whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus" (Colossians 3:17). Not just the spectacular things. Not just the things that get noticed. Everything.

Purpose isn't found in doing something extraordinary. It's found in knowing why you do what you do — and for whom. When you understand that the Almighty has written a purpose over your life, even the ordinary becomes an act of worship.