Facebook already offers a "memorial service" option, but this is different. Developed by Willook, an Israel-based firm dealing in time capsule services and products, If I Die allows people to record a five-minute video or text post. As the promotional video explains, "Don't wait until it's too late. Leave your message today. It can be a bid farewell, a favorite joke, a long-kept secret, an old score you wanted to settle, or even some valuable advice."

As with any media tool, the technology itself isn't inherently good or bad; it's all in how we use it. After all, a man or woman of faith could apply If I Die to share the gospel one last time or describe the heavenly reward they could be experiencing at that very moment. Pretty cool. However, the campaign promoting the app leans toward morbidity and spitefulness. For example, in the promo video, when the announcer mentions the "old score you wanted to settle," clouds take the shape of a hand making an obscene gesture. Why encourage people to be remembered for antisocial networking?

And even with the three-person gate-keeper system mandated by the program, there's always the off-chance that the secrets could appear before their appointed time. You sign up expecting to tell off your boss or make some deep, dark confession after you've breathed your last. But how would it feel to have that video leak onto the Internet while you're still here? Oops. (At that point you might wish you were dead.) Willook insists, "Messages are safely stored on a secure server." Uh huh. Tell that to the millions of people who had their personal information compromised this month when somebody hacked Zappos.

Another iffy feature of If I Die is the ability to publish one's last words in time-release fashion. You can choose to post portions of your message over the course of weeks, months or years. Want to wish your spouse a happy anniversary long after you're gone? Maybe sing "Happy Birthday" to your children until they're 21? If I Die makes that possible. But while it's a sweet thought, at what point would that interfere with closure, making it harder for loved ones to move on, emotionally? I'm no psychologist, but there's a fine line between communicating with people and haunting them.

All things considered, you may feel that If I Die—handled with class and sensitivity—could be useful to you and your family. That brings us to the final step in the process: confirmation. It's up to you to select your three "trustees" from your list of friends. Choose carefully. You don't want anyone punking you by reporting your death prematurely. That would be awkward, wouldn't it? Word has it that the app's creators have installed a protocol that will try to contact you directly if your demise has been reported. Then it's up to you to decide whether you want to set the record straight or pull a Tom Sawyer.

I'm not morally opposed to If I Die, but the concept makes me a little uncomfortable. For one thing, I believe anything worth posting after we're gone is worth saying now. Face to face. In our increasingly impersonal society, it's another example of how the Internet can distance us from more meaningful communication and intimate relationships. And yet, had it been available to our Savior Jesus Christ, He might have seized the opportunity to leave this posthumous post: "See you in three days."