Psalms 118:17-18 I shall not die, but I shall live, and recount the deeds of the LORD. 18 The LORD has disciplined me severely, but he has not given me over to death.
As we continue our study in Psalm 118, I want to take a deep dive into verses 17-18, where the psalmist makes one of the boldest declarations in all of Scripture: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD.” This isn’t the voice of someone untouched by pain — it’s the cry of someone who has been through the fire and come out declaring God’s faithfulness. This statement is not a denial of suffering; it’s a defiance of death. It’s the resolve of a heart that’s been chastened, refined, and pressed, yet remains confident in the God who preserves life — not just for survival, but for purpose.
The Hebrew word for “declare” is סָפַר (saphar) — meaning to proclaim, recount, or record in detail. It’s the same root used for a scribe or storyteller. This isn’t about vague gratitude — it’s about vocal, specific testimony. When God raises you up, He doesn’t do it just for your comfort — He does it so you can bear witness. Your life becomes a scroll on which His faithfulness is written, line by line, miracle by miracle.
This verse carries profound prophetic weight. It prefigures the resurrection of Yeshua (Jesus), who was chastened unto death yet not abandoned to the grave. On the third day, He rose — not in silence, but declaring the works of the LORD. And because we are in Him, His resurrection becomes the pattern of our own. We, too, are raised — not just to walk out of tombs, but to walk into testimony. Not just to breathe — but to proclaim.
Verse 18 reminds us that the Lord may chasten, but He does not abandon. Discipline is a sign of sonship, not disfavor. There are seasons where we are pressed, pruned, and purified — but they are not the end. In fact, they often precede the greatest declarations. What was meant to break you becomes the stage from which you testify. You are not just a survivor–you are a witness.
So what will you do with the life He has preserved? This is your moment to speak. To recount the works of the Lord in the land of the living. Your scars tell stories, and your survival is sacred. Don’t waste your breath on fear. Use it to testify. You are alive for a reason. Rise up and declare it.
You weren’t just rescued — you were raised. And you weren’t just raised — you were commissioned. The enemy came to bury you, but God brought you through the fire so you could speak with authority. Don’t stay silent. Don’t shrink back. Open your mouth and tell the world what God has done. Stand on your feet, even if they’re trembling. Speak through tears, if you must. But speak. Declare His works boldly. Hell lost when Yeshua rose — and it loses again every time you refuse to die in your trial and choose instead to live and declare. Let your life be a trumpet. Let your voice shake the grave. You shall not die — you shall live!
Copyright 1999-2025 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
How to display the above article within the Worthy Suite WordPress Plugin.
[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Rockets are flying through the skies of Israel and many are landing on the ground. Emails are also flying through cyberspace as people all over the world express support through prayer for us and our nation. Words cannot express our gratitude for your care and concern. In times like these the best and the worst are brought out in people: either the peace, confidence, and strength which come from faith, or the fear and panic which overwhelms the souls of worldly men.
Since moving to Israel we’ve been thrust into a Middle Eastern culture of “extreme hospitality”. The above parable from Luke takes place in a similar cultural context, and it powerfully illustrates how God wants us to approach Him.
Unless you’re up on your biology, you’re probably wondering, “What in the world is a coney?” I certainly was. After doing a little research, I discovered that a coney is a rock badger.
I ran across a profound story that shows what happens when the family structure breaks down — but this didn’t have to do with people — it had to do with elephants.
As some of you may know, a bomb exploded in a bus within blocks of our Jerusalem apartment when we first moved to Israel. That morning, my wife and I, along with our newborn baby, were heading to the city center to run a few errands when suddenly we heard the explosion. Within minutes, the sirens were screaming from every part of the city as officials quickly made their way to the scene. Later that month, the bus I was supposed to be on drove away as I watched it carry away the 50 or so people who would be critically injured and the 8 who would be dead seconds later, when that bus exploded before my very eyes. So, to put it mildly, we have seen firsthand how terrorism works and how it affects people.
We know a Christian woman who has struggled with her past for years. She rarely thinks or speaks of anything else. And as a result, her life has just spiraled downward, despite all our attempts to minister to her. It breaks our hearts to see.
Today marks Holocaust Memorial day here in Israel. At ten o’clock in the morning on this day, war sirens sound calling the entire Land to remembrance of the 6,000,000 Jews who died and many more who suffered under the Nazi regime during WW2. People in their homes and workplaces rise in silence; cars come to a halt, even on the highways; pedestrians stop where they are and pause… for one minute as the sirens wail, we remember.