I watched a woman at Great Clips go from cloud nine to heartbreak in about three seconds.
She'd just received what looked like a $100 tip. She was showing it off to her coworkers, practically jumping up and down — until she flipped it over and realized it wasn't real. It was an evangelism tract.
As I sat in the chair getting my own haircut, I couldn't shake the question: What was going through that man's mind when he handed it to her? Did he feel faithful? Did he feel obedient?
And then the harder question: In what ways do I do things like this — things that look spiritual but aren't actually rooted in obedience to God?
In Acts 24, the Apostle Paul stands before a Roman governor named Felix. Paul speaks about faith in Christ, about righteousness, self-control, and the judgment to come. And something remarkable happens — Felix is afraid.
Not dismissive. Not argumentative. Afraid.
He feels the weight of what Paul is saying. Something inside him recognizes the truth. But here's his response:
"That's enough for now! You may leave. When I find it convenient, I will send for you." — Acts 24:25
Felix doesn't reject the truth. He postpones it. And two years pass. "Later" never arrives.
Felix's strategy is hauntingly familiar. Our resistance to God rarely sounds like rebellion. More often, it sounds like responsibility:
"Later" allows us to feel responsive without actually responding. It lets us feel open to the Lord without actually yielding to His authority.
What makes "later" so destructive to our faith is how reasonable it feels. We don't frame postponement as resistance — we frame it as wisdom. As patience. As timing.
But Jesus never seemed to share that framing:
"Lord, first let me go and bury my father." Jesus said to him, "Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God." — Luke 9:59–60
No rejection in that exchange — just delay. Just conditions. And Jesus names it for what it is.
Felix reminds us of something deeply unsettling: It is entirely possible to feel the weight of truth, to be greatly affected by that truth, and yet remain fundamentally unchanged by it. Not because we lacked clarity — but because our response was endlessly postponed.
Where are you saying "I will, but later" to the Lord?
Where has postponement become so normal it no longer feels like resistance?
We cannot postpone our obedience to Jesus and follow Him at the same time.
This post is part of a series from our teaching through Acts 24–26 at Indy Metro Church.