Not to us
Glory redirected
The psalmist begins with a deliberate, repeated refusal to take any credit: not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory. He says it twice — not to us, not to us — as if to make sure the redirection is total. Whatever good has happened, whatever has been accomplished, the glory is to go to God's name, not ours. And the doubling is no accident, because the self is so quick to slip its own name back in.
This is the death of self at the level of glory and credit. The self instinctively wants its name attached to every good thing — to be recognized, thanked, applauded for what it has done. The psalmist's refrain is a deliberate, repeated act of redirecting that glory away from self and toward God, again and again, because the impulse to claim it for ourselves never fully dies and must be answered every time.
Andrew Murray called humility the consent to be nothing so that God may be all. Here is that consent put into words: not to us, but to your name. Paul lived it even about his own remarkable labors: by the grace of God I am what I am — I worked harder than any of them, yet not I, but the grace of God. He gives the credit away in the very sentence where he names his achievement. When something good comes through you, where does the glory go — and can you say, and mean, not to me, but to your name?
“Not to us, the LORD, not to us, but to your name give glory, for your lovingkindness, and for your truth's sake.”
— The psalmist — Psalm 115:1 (WEB)
Redirect the glory for every good thing away from yourself and to God's name — repeatedly, as the persistent impulse to claim credit requires.
“By the grace of God I am what I am. Yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me.”
Watch the heart after any good thing and you will catch it trying to slip its own name back onto the credit, hungry to be thanked and seen. The psalmist answers that reflex by saying it twice — not to us, not to us — because once is never enough for an impulse this persistent. The interior work is to make that redirect a discipline, handing the glory back to God again and again, giving grace the credit even in the breath where your own labor is named, as Paul did.
This week, deliberately redirect credit: when something good comes through you and praise comes your way, return the glory to God in your heart and, where fitting, aloud, saying not to me, but to your name, and giving grace the credit Paul gave it.
Glory is sticky; it clings to our names and feeds a quiet pride that pockets the credit grace alone earned. The soul that keeps redirecting it — not to us, but to your name, repeated until the impulse loosens its grip — starves that pride and keeps the credit where it has always belonged, consenting, again and again, to be nothing so that God may be all.
The self instinctively wants its name on every good thing — to be recognized, thanked, and applauded for whatever it has done. The psalmist answers that instinct with a deliberate, doubled refusal: not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory. He says it twice because the impulse to claim glory for ourselves is so persistent that redirecting it is not a one-time act but a repeated discipline.
This is the death of self at the level of credit and glory. Andrew Murray called humility the consent to be nothing so that God may be all, and the psalmist's refrain is exactly that consent spoken aloud. Even Paul, naming his own extraordinary labors, gives the credit away in the same breath: not I, but the grace of God. When good comes through you, the glory wants to stick to your name; the discipline is to redirect it, again and again, to God's. Where good has come through you, can you say, and truly mean, not to me, but to your name?
- When good comes through me, where does the glory go?
- Does the impulse to claim credit require a repeated, deliberate redirect?
- Can I say, and mean, not to me, but to your name?
Lord, the self wants its name on every good thing, claiming credit that is yours. Teach me the psalmist's refrain: not to us, but to your name. Let me give the glory away again and again, consenting to be nothing so that you may be all. Amen.