Three Letters at the Bottom of the Page

Johann Sebastian Bach is widely regarded as one of the greatest composers in the history of Western music. His works — from the Brandenburg Concertos to the Mass in B Minor — have echoed through concert halls for three centuries. Yet when scholars examine Bach's original manuscripts, they find something remarkable at the bottom of nearly every composition: three small letters. S.D.G. Soli Deo Gloria. To God alone be the glory.

Not just his church cantatas. Not just his sacred oratorios. Even his secular works — dance suites, instrumental concertos, pieces written for royal courts — carried that quiet inscription. Bach did not distinguish between sacred and ordinary work. He once wrote, "The aim and final end of all music should be none other than the glory of God and the refreshment of the soul."

Here was a man whose genius was undeniable, yet he consistently redirected every note of praise upward. He did not see himself as the source of his gift but as a steward of it. The music flowed through him, not from him.

Humility is not pretending you have nothing to offer. Bach clearly had extraordinary talent. Humility is knowing where that talent comes from. It is writing your masterpiece and then, before the ink dries, bending low to scribble three letters that say, "This was never mine."

The Apostle Paul put it simply: "What do you have that you did not receive?" Every gift we carry is on loan from the Almighty. True humility signs everything S.D.G.