Faith Works 7-31-2026
Jeff Gill
The password is death, he said cheerfully
___
If I just wanted to collect eyeballs and readership, talking about personal finance and elderly relatives would give me a completely different theme than the ones my editors expect me to follow.
Last week I was trying to cautiously explain how a power of attorney does not necessarily give you the right to request “transfer on death” status for bank accounts or other fiscal instruments. Some very specific POA’s do, but many, even most do not. Here we repeat the disclaimer: I am not a lawyer or certified financial advisor. Get professional advice for key decisions.
However: I can tell you that TOD is very helpful on the event of a person’s death, but a POA goes “poof” at the moment of death. Take a POA to a bank after someone dies, and if it doesn’t already say TOD for your involvement, there’s no power in that power of attorney. None. Count on it.
Also, count on this. You will die. Okay, now we’re back to the theological content you count on in my columns! The truest thing I can say is that you. Will. Die. It’s guaranteed. No one gets out of here alive, et cetera.
Jesus saves, but he doesn’t help you access someone else’s savings account; likewise, you may have faith you will see your loved ones in a time to come, but that faith isn’t a password (unless your password is “JesusSaves#1” which is not mine, so don’t try).
The second of the two items I have recently felt moved to share with you all, my faithful readers, is that not only is POA very different from TOD, but the relatively recent assumption that a “password notebook” will help you access a parent or spouse or Uncle Fester’s accounts is largely no longer what it once was.
Welcome to two-factor authentication, and the need to have not only the right password, but if you can’t use the Touch or Face ID settings, the ability to use the right phone number for texting or enter the email account from years ago all becomes a tragic necessity.
Because the grimmest thing I’ve learned in the last few weeks from my friends & colleagues dealing with all this is that a corpse’s finger cannot be used to trigger Touch ID. A deceased person’s face is different in key ways so that Face ID isn’t going to go “ding.” Yes, I've talked to multiple people who have tried. I can only imagine the doubled pain of having to go in to a funeral home before calling, stand at the casket, and try to… yikes.
Jake Tapper had an interview on TV recently with former US Senator Ben Sasse. Ben is dying. He has stage 4 pancreatic cancer, which is responding to treatment, but that’s giving him time with wife and kids, it will not save him. The cancer is everywhere. As Ben says in this and other podcasts and interviews he’s given since his December diagnosis: “We are all on the clock.” Every last one of us.
Not tending to last matters like how someone who is not us is going to get into our personal accounts, subscriptions, and payment mechanisms after we die, is tantamount to pretending that we aren’t going to die. Or that it will come on our schedule. Ben Sasse is spending part of the precious time he has left on earth to tell people like you and me: “Redeem the time.” Think about what you are doing, and how those you love will have to get along without you.
If you died tomorrow — and you might, friend — how will what matters to you be cared for? How will your mortal expenditures stop, and what will your eternal investments reward? I thank Ben Sasse, a number of funeral directors, and not a few bank staffers, for the reminder that death changes things, irrevocably.
We can be ready, or we can pretend it won’t happen. But it will.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he has no intention of dying any time soon, but who does? Tell him about timetables and Face ID at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on X.
Jeff Gill
The password is death, he said cheerfully
___
If I just wanted to collect eyeballs and readership, talking about personal finance and elderly relatives would give me a completely different theme than the ones my editors expect me to follow.
Last week I was trying to cautiously explain how a power of attorney does not necessarily give you the right to request “transfer on death” status for bank accounts or other fiscal instruments. Some very specific POA’s do, but many, even most do not. Here we repeat the disclaimer: I am not a lawyer or certified financial advisor. Get professional advice for key decisions.
However: I can tell you that TOD is very helpful on the event of a person’s death, but a POA goes “poof” at the moment of death. Take a POA to a bank after someone dies, and if it doesn’t already say TOD for your involvement, there’s no power in that power of attorney. None. Count on it.
Also, count on this. You will die. Okay, now we’re back to the theological content you count on in my columns! The truest thing I can say is that you. Will. Die. It’s guaranteed. No one gets out of here alive, et cetera.
Jesus saves, but he doesn’t help you access someone else’s savings account; likewise, you may have faith you will see your loved ones in a time to come, but that faith isn’t a password (unless your password is “JesusSaves#1” which is not mine, so don’t try).
The second of the two items I have recently felt moved to share with you all, my faithful readers, is that not only is POA very different from TOD, but the relatively recent assumption that a “password notebook” will help you access a parent or spouse or Uncle Fester’s accounts is largely no longer what it once was.
Welcome to two-factor authentication, and the need to have not only the right password, but if you can’t use the Touch or Face ID settings, the ability to use the right phone number for texting or enter the email account from years ago all becomes a tragic necessity.
Because the grimmest thing I’ve learned in the last few weeks from my friends & colleagues dealing with all this is that a corpse’s finger cannot be used to trigger Touch ID. A deceased person’s face is different in key ways so that Face ID isn’t going to go “ding.” Yes, I've talked to multiple people who have tried. I can only imagine the doubled pain of having to go in to a funeral home before calling, stand at the casket, and try to… yikes.
Jake Tapper had an interview on TV recently with former US Senator Ben Sasse. Ben is dying. He has stage 4 pancreatic cancer, which is responding to treatment, but that’s giving him time with wife and kids, it will not save him. The cancer is everywhere. As Ben says in this and other podcasts and interviews he’s given since his December diagnosis: “We are all on the clock.” Every last one of us.
Not tending to last matters like how someone who is not us is going to get into our personal accounts, subscriptions, and payment mechanisms after we die, is tantamount to pretending that we aren’t going to die. Or that it will come on our schedule. Ben Sasse is spending part of the precious time he has left on earth to tell people like you and me: “Redeem the time.” Think about what you are doing, and how those you love will have to get along without you.
If you died tomorrow — and you might, friend — how will what matters to you be cared for? How will your mortal expenditures stop, and what will your eternal investments reward? I thank Ben Sasse, a number of funeral directors, and not a few bank staffers, for the reminder that death changes things, irrevocably.
We can be ready, or we can pretend it won’t happen. But it will.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he has no intention of dying any time soon, but who does? Tell him about timetables and Face ID at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on X.
