🔑 Core Message
This blog teaches that true humility is not just what we say publicly, but what we allow in our inner life.
- Saying “Glory to God” is only the first step
- The real challenge is not secretly taking that glory back in our hearts
A Meditation in Two Refusals
Imagine what would happen if, for a single day, every compliment was redirected upward. Every win held with open hands. Every blessing returned to its Source. That is the life Psalm 115:1 describes — not a theoretical ideal, but a practical posture. The question is whether we have the courage to try it.
Most verses in the Psalms are prayers for help. Psalm 115:1 is different. It is a prayer of refusal. And it is, strikingly, a double refusal — a single sentence that says the same No twice, as though one denial were not enough. Why twice? That is where this reflection begins.
DAILY BIBLICAL REFLECTION
Verse for Today — 19 April 2026
“Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory, for the sake of your steadfast love and your faithfulness.”
Psalm 115:1
Prelude — A Sentence that Says No Twice
There is a quiet moment that comes in the life of every person who has been blessed, gifted, recognised, or raised up. It is the moment when the applause begins. The name is called. The success is acknowledged. The work is praised. The doors open. And something in the human heart tightens its grip and whispers: this is mine. I earned it. I deserve it. Let the glory settle here.
Into that moment, Psalm 115 walks quietly and firmly, and it speaks one sentence. But notice the grammar. The psalmist does not say No once. He says it twice. Not to us. Not to us. The repetition is not an accident of Hebrew poetry. It is the shape of a soul struggling to let go of what the heart is desperate to hold.
Why two refusals? Because there are two places the glory wants to settle. It wants to settle outward, in the praise of others. And it wants to settle inward, in the quiet admiration of the self. The first is easier to refuse. The second is where the real battle is. The psalmist, knowing this, refuses it twice.
“Not to us, O Lord…”
The First Refusal: The Outward No
The first refusal is the one the world can see. It is what we do when the microphone is handed to us, when our name is in the headline, when the room turns to listen. In that moment, the words of the psalmist become a public confession: the credit does not stop here.
Psalm 115 places this refusal in a dramatic setting. Israel stands before the nations. The nations glorify themselves through their gods — idols of silver and gold, works of human hands. They bow before the works of their own making, and in bowing they flatter themselves. Psalm 115 breaks that spell. Israel declares that whatever is good, beautiful, or victorious in her life belongs not to her but to her God.
This outward No is easier than it looks and harder than it sounds. It is easier than it looks because the language of deflection is already available to us: to God be the glory, I could not have done it without him, it was all grace. These phrases come readily to the lips of the believer, and they are not wrong. But they are not the whole of what the psalmist is asking.
It is harder than it sounds because the outward No, even when sincerely spoken, can itself become a subtle form of display. Humility that is performed for an audience is still performance. The psalmist knows this. That is why one No is not enough.
“…not to us…”
The Second Refusal: The Inward No
The second refusal is the one nobody sees. It happens later, in the quiet of one’s own thoughts, when the room has emptied and the applause has faded. It is the moment the heart lingers over the memory of the praise and begins to rehearse it, savour it, own it. The words have been spoken to God in public; now, in private, the soul quietly reclaims them.
This is the harder refusal. The outward No can be managed by good manners. The inward No can only be made by grace. For the heart, as the psalmist seems to know, is a relentless claimant. It accepts the public deflection and then, in secret, works to reverse it. It hears the compliment, returns it to God with the right words, and afterwards slips it quietly into its own pocket.
The second Not to us is for this secret transaction. It is the soul refusing to smuggle the glory home. It is the believer saying, with all the honesty she can muster: not even here, in the hidden chambers of my self-esteem, will I let the glory settle. Not outwardly, and not inwardly. Not to us. Not to us.
“…but to your name give glory.”
The Turn — From Refusal to Redirection
Psalm 115:1 is not only a prayer of refusal. If it stopped at the double No, it would be a prayer of self-denial, and self-denial is not yet worship. The verse moves. After the two refusals comes the turn: but to your name give glory. The energy that was pulled away from the self is now directed somewhere. It has a destination.
This is important, because emptying is not the point. The psalmist is not praying for invisibility. He is not asking God to make Israel insignificant. He is not renouncing success. He is simply asking that the glory of whatever comes should travel to its true home. The refusal exists for the sake of the redirection. The No exists for the sake of the Yes.
This distinguishes biblical humility from mere self-effacement. Self-effacement denies the gift. Biblical humility receives the gift and returns it with thanks. The psalmist does not pretend that Israel has nothing. He holds up what she has and points past it to the One who gave it.
The Ground — Why Glory Belongs to God
Why should the glory travel upward rather than settle in us? The psalmist gives his reason in a single phrase: for the sake of your steadfast love and your faithfulness. Two Hebrew words carry the argument — hesed and emeth.
Hesed is covenant love — the love that keeps its promises when the beloved is unworthy, the love that persists when everything about the relationship argues for its ending. Emeth is faithfulness — the reliability of God, the unchanging quality of his character, the truth of who he is across every shifting circumstance.
Put these two words together and you have the reason the glory belongs to God. It belongs to him not merely because he is powerful, not merely because he is the Maker, but because he has been steadfast in love towards an unsteadfast people and faithful to a faithless generation. The glory is his not because he commands it, but because he has earned it by the quality of his relationship with us.
We, by contrast, have nothing of our own to boast about. Even our best moments are gifts. Even our victories are mercies. Even our faith is a grace. When we refuse the glory — outwardly and inwardly — we are not denying our reality. We are confessing its source.
The Quiet Revolution this Verse Begins
It takes courage to live this psalm. In a world that teaches us to brand ourselves, to build our platforms, to take credit, to be seen, the double refusal of Psalm 115 sounds almost counter-cultural to the point of strangeness. Social media rewards self-promotion. Career culture rewards personal branding. Even religious life is sometimes distorted by the pull of visibility, popularity, and reach.
Into this world, Psalm 115 interrupts with a word that does not grow old. Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory. It does not require us to abandon our work or hide our gifts. It does not pray for failure. It does not ask to be made small. It simply asks that whatever comes — success or struggle, gift or blessing — the glory should travel to its true home.
This is a quiet revolution. It changes nothing outwardly and everything inwardly. The work continues. The gifts are exercised. The blessings are received. But the posture beneath them all is altered. We hold them lightly. We return them gratefully. We live as servants who know whose house we serve in, as stewards who know the estate is not our own.
Coda — A Prayer for Today
Lord, when I am praised, turn the praise towards you. When I succeed, let the success remember its Source. When I am noticed, let me deflect the attention to your name. When my name is called, let yours be the one that echoes after mine.
Not to me, O Lord, not to me, but to your name give glory. For the sake of your steadfast love. For the sake of your faithfulness.
And when I forget — and I will forget, for the heart is a relentless claimant — remind me. Gently, mercifully, as often as it takes. Until the reflex of my soul is no longer to gather the glory, but to return it.
Amen.
Today’s reflection is written by Johnbritto Kurusumuthu, inspired by the Bible verse Psalm 115:1, shared this morning, 19 April 2026 by His Excellency, the Rt. Rev. Dr. Selvister Ponnumuthan, Bishop of the Diocese of Punalur — a cherished practice he has faithfully continued for over three years.
When was the last time you consciously redirected a compliment, a success, or a moment of recognition back to its Source? Share your experience in the comments below — your story may be exactly what another reader needs to hear today.
If this reflection spoke to you, consider joining the Rise & Inspire mailing list. A fresh Wake-Up Call arrives each day, drawn from the Scripture — quiet, steady, and sent with care.
Johnbritto Kurusumuthu, for Rise & Inspire
Wake-Up Calls · Reflection #108 of 2026
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