Faith Isn't a Transaction

Why Faith Isn’t a Formula—and Where God Really Shows Up

I have spent time in airports recently, and I’ve discovered a new favorite travel snack for my return flights home: Auntie Anne’s pretzel bites.

They’ve been calling my name on my last several trips. I don’t know if it’s because they’re comfort food or because they’re easy to eat—and safe to take on a plane, unlikely to offend the noses of my soon-to-be seatmates. They’re also simple to procure: go to the counter, place your order, pay, and receive your tasty pretzel bites. An easy and satisfying transaction.

While waiting last week in Baltimore for my flight home to Indianapolis, I was eating my pretzel bites and scrolling through the news on my phone. I came across a story about the ongoing search for people lost in the Texas floods. A public official was praising “the hand of God” for saving those who had been rescued.

I don’t know if it was because I had just made a transaction, but the statement struck me as odd—actually, it struck me as incorrect.

Don’t get me wrong: I believe God was present in the midst of those terrible floods in Texas and in the rescue efforts. But I don’t believe that some people were saved because they prayed harder, believed more fervently, or were somehow more worthy—while others perished because they didn’t.

In difficult and tragic circumstances, it’s tempting to see faith as transactional—God intervenes to save some while letting others perish. Yes, we want and need to make sense of the senseless. But imagining God as randomly picking winners and losers, like a cosmic lottery, is not only unhelpful—it’s not who God is.

I believe that when we weep, God is the first to weep. When our hearts break, God’s heart breaks first. I have no doubt that the flooding in Texas broke God’s heart—especially in the unimaginable loss of life. Those who were rescued brought joy to God, as did those making incredible efforts at relief and recovery. And for those who grieve, God grieves with them.

Faith isn’t a transaction—it’s a relationship. One marked not by rewards for the faithful or punishments for the unworthy, but by the unwavering presence of a God who grieves with us, rejoices with us, and walks with us through it all. So the next time we’re tempted to draw lines around who is “blessed” and who is not, let’s resist the urge to make faith a formula. Instead, let’s lean into compassion. Let’s show up in the lives of those who are suffering, not with explanations, but with presence. Let’s be the tangible expression of God’s love in a world that too often tries to make sense of tragedy by assigning blame or favor. Because in a world that hurts, what people need most isn’t a reason—they need a companion. Be that presence. Be that comfort. Be that hope.