I am admittedly far from an expert when it comes to music. So my opinion doesn’t matter a whole lot. But I would argue that the greatest song ever written was “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” by Otis Redding. That when that song begins with the sounds of the ocean in the background and the quiet strumming of the guitar, it immediately transports you to another place, watching the ships roll in and the tide roll out. Otis Redding was born in Macon, Georgia, and he spent his entire life there. He toured all over the South and the country, but he always came back home to Macon. He was the son and grandson of sharecroppers, and he grew up learning how to sing in the church. Early on, he was a part of a quartet called the Junior Spiritual Crusaders. And later on, he sang with the Pine Toppers. He loved other artists like Little Richard, who was also from Macon, and of course, Sam Cooke. But he also loved Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones, even covering the Stones song “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction.” And his agent was a 19-year-old college student from Macon. And like so many artists, he was always trying to evolve and fine-tune his sound. At one point in his career, he started to have problems with his voice. They discovered polyps on his vocal cords and he had to have surgery. And part of the recovery for the surgery was he could not use his voice. He could not even speak for some time. So he used this as an opportunity to focus on songwriting—that he wanted to reinvent his sound. And “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” was going to be the beginning of this new trajectory in his career.

And he could not wait to share it with the world, but he never got the chance. On December 10, 1967, Otis Redding and several members of his band died in a plane crash over Madison, Wisconsin. And “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” was released a month later, January 1968. It was his first and only number-one song. In many ways, it feels a little bit like an unfinished. He never got to see his success. But then again, we should never measure our lives with our accomplishments, like drawing an arbitrary finish line on the ground. Because unfinished does not mean failure. The reality is if we work for those things that matter the most, we will all have something that is unfinished.

And the prophet Isaiah echoes this sentiment, saying, “God has called me, God has named me”—that Isaiah was a part of something much bigger than himself. He also admitted, “Have I labored in vain? I spent my strength on nothing.” And that contradiction, being a part of something so big and important and then feeling as if what we do does not matter, does not make sense unless we have worked for something bigger than ourselves. Because everything that gives us purpose—when a child calls us mom or dad, when a friend asks us for advice, when a mentor gives us a leadership opportunity, when a patient puts his trust in us, when a student takes notes on our lessons, when a young person reaches out for our hand, when a board looks to us for advice, or when a decision is placed in our hands—we have this opportunity to affect the lives of others, which can give us such fulfillment. But then there are days where we feel the weight of that burden and we ask, “Have I labored in vain?”

And when those words are on our lips, we must remember that unfinished does not mean failure. Because when we work towards those things that matter the most, they are for us to steward and not to accomplish. For us to serve and not to complete. That fulfillment comes from being faithful, not from being finished. And the psalmist speaks into these very moments because the psalmist asks for help, saying, I waited patiently for the Lord. He inclined to me and heard my cry. And that is true, whether we wait patiently or impatiently. That God hears our cries and God can give us a new song to sing. That it might be a brand-new song—starting over, beginning again, doing something new—or it might be a new verse to the same song we are already singing. Because when we ask, Have I spent my strength on nothing? We need to know and be reminded and assured that what we do matters—as a parent, as a spouse, as a friend, as a teacher, as a technician, as a manager, as a nurse, as a church member, as a person of faith.

And this feeling was not unfamiliar to Jesus because Jesus started his ministry by saying, the kingdom of God has come near. The kingdom of God was the focus of his life where all wrongs would be made right, all sin would be forgiven and all brokenness would be healed. And he kept saying, this is a reality. It is here on this very day, but it is not quite yet complete. And when we work for something bigger than ourselves, there are days when we catch glimmers of it. We see it in real time. But then there are other days, where as we fall asleep we are wondering, have I labored in vain? That we find ourselves somewhere in the middle, which is where we find Jesus. It is, as Gwendolyn Brooks writes, it is living in the along. That it’s not about a finish line. It’s about living in the task at hand, in the hope of this day, in the goodness of this very moment. And when it gets hard, which it always does, we find renewal and a new song in God’s goodness and grace.

In his beautiful novel, Theo of Golden, Alan Levi tells the story about Theo who spends his days seeing goodness in others. And he starts buying all these portraits and seeking out members of this small town to give them the portrait of themselves. And then he tells them what he sees in them, giving them renewal, purpose, and strength. That it is quite the gift to help others see these things in themselves.

And he meets in this small town, Simone, who is a wonderful cellist. But Simone talks about the days where he is practicing and rehearsing a very complicated piece of music. And after hours and hours of practicing, he still cannot get it right. And he gets so angry and frustrated. And it’s in those moments where he feels like he is laboring in vain, that he will take that complicated piece of music and just set it aside. And then he will pull out of his file something very familiar to him, a piece that he has played a thousand times before, that he will just return to the basics. And whenever we are wondering to ourselves, have I spent my strength on nothing? That we can return to what is most important, finding renewal. That we can return to the basics, restoring our sense of purpose. That we can return to the ways of Jesus, mindful of the needs of our loved ones, offering hospitality to strangers, extending forgiveness to others. It restores our souls and renews our spirits where we have a new song to sing of God’s love. Amen.