J.J.

Johann Sebastian Bach was a German composer of the late Baroque period whose music you’d recognize by the first few bars, despite his unfortunate insistence upon following the conventions of the day and naming his works of music with the most painfully dull string of words he could manage on any given day.¹

Questionable nomenclature aside, Bach is widely regarded as one of the greatest composers and musicians of his time and foundational to modern Western music. If you look at his manuscripts, I think there’s a hint as to why.

Bach had a secret weapon.

At the top of his manuscripts, at the beginning of each of his new works, Bach would write the initials, “J.J.” This is shorthand for the Latin, “Jesu Juva,” which means, “Jesus, help!”

This was his prayer at the onset of any new work — Christian or secular — a humble petition to his heavenly father for assistance in the task set before him. Perched at the top of his page, it served as a reminder to him in his work — that he was not alone, that he didn’t have to carry the weight all by himself.

I could certainly use that reminder, as often as I can. Because let’s be real: I need help — a lot.

Yet more often than I’d care to admit, I’ll find myself at the end of a day realizing that I did not bring God into the day’s work with me. After a bleary-eyed morning prayer, I’ll often dive into the day’s work alone — pretending that between the hours of 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. that I’m some kind of lone gunslinger — an un-anxious, un-distracted, un-procrastinating, evenkeeled, loving, sinless — well, Christ — who can do it all alone.

Which — alas — is certainly not the case.

How might our lives change if we kept this prayer on our lips throughout the day, if it became the background music of our work? This prayer should be part of our everyday carry, tucked in our back pocket, ready to be sent up like a road flare — Jesus, help! — when we find ourselves facing challenges, running on fumes, and at the end of ourselves.²

When we’re approaching an uncomfortable yet needed conversation with a coworker — Jesus, help. When we feel our temper rising at our children’s disobedience — Jesus, help. Even facing the three-hour emotional roller coaster of assembling IKEA furniture or that most daunting task of executing a parallel park on a busy city street — Jesus, help!

We don’t need to “save” our prayers for only the really big things, the serious issues. Prayer ought to be an ongoing conversation with God throughout the work of the day, emboldening us to serve him well and with our whole heart, and to glorify him by shining forth a light in his name.

At the conclusion of his works, after days — weeks — months of toil, Bach would finish off his manuscripts with a second set of initials. “S.D.G.”: Soli Deo Gloria. “To God alone be the glory.”

May we also keep God in his rightful place in our works, in our days, and in our lives.

“So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God.”³

S.D.G.