Isights by Iris

     I believe there is no death for those born again in Christ Jesus, only the transformation of, or separation between the body and spirit. Death isn’t a black thief, but a catalyst into another form of existence.

      My uncle, John Harris Posey, passed May 4, 1998. In my 20’s I resented him because he once refused to give me a loan. I was between paychecks when I saw some fancy luggage complete with a matching handbag I thought I had to have. I was willing to forego the shoes, if necessary. When he told me no, I didn’t understand.

     After more than 25 years working as a supervisor for a pipeline company in Fairbanks, Alaska, he moved back to Mississippi and built a house for himself and his family. At the end of each day, he would place his pocket change on top of his dresser. As a child, I was tempted at times to borrow a few coins without asking but was afraid to because I felt he’d know if just a quarter was missing.

     He loved to talk to my grandmother, his sister, about investing, being a treasurer for the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, and being a deacon at Old Hopewell Church. He became excited when it was time to pay tithes and give offerings, leading the procession. He did this week after week after week, making me wonder how could someone be so happy about giving away money. It wasn’t normal to me then. I thought maybe he was showboating, but nothing could have been further from the truth. His offerings were born out of his love and devotion to God. He understood the concept of receiving through giving, and not just monetarily.
When he refused me the loan, somehow I interpreted it as a rejection and preferential treatment toward others.

     Years later, watching him lay in his casket, I felt the release of years I spent misunderstanding why he told me no. I stood contemplating how he manifested his faith. Not preaching it from a pulpit, or using it for a pious cloak of self-righteousness. He simply embodied the character of God.

     It became clear to me that in his saying no to my trivial desires, he was saying yes to so much more, to planning, to discipline, to patience, and trust in God alone; not in others, positions, accumulations, accomplishments, or self. His kind and apt refusal was a guiding wind raising me, as an eagle, to a higher plane.

     Absent from his body, he lives on. I see him when I tell my own children no. I see him when I give back to God what is His. I see him in his legacy of faith, a continuing example of how God our Father loves us.
In Spirit, he lives on. Only transformed.