Pastors and Christian authors frequently speak and write about “the problem of prayer,” as if its problem was singular and well-defined. Prayer has many problems. It is not just the problem of unanswered prayer, but of answered prayer: why was this prayer answered when so many others, seemingly more worthy, were not? Why was her prayer answered and his prayer not?

Another problem is that people cannot even agree on what prayer is. Some say prayer is a means of developing intimacy with God. These people are not too bothered by unanswered prayers; they think the only thing that matters is getting closer to God.

They don’t pray so that they can have things but so they can have God, and he can have them. They engage in contemplative prayer, centering prayer, and the prayer of silence. For these people, prayer is about intimacy with their Creator. I have various books on this kind of prayer by Thomas Merton and others.

Others want nothing to do with contemplative prayer, and even claim it is dangerous and unbiblical. For them prayer is about asking. If contemplative prayer is about peace, this kind of prayer is about struggle. These people wrestle in prayer. They agonize. They ask. They ask God to put an end to evil (like sickness and death) and to bring good (like peace and health) for the sake of his kingdom. I have books on my shelf on this kind of prayer by Donald Bloesch and others.

We don’t just have a problem of prayer; we have a problem of talking about prayer. One of the difficulties is that prayer is relation-dependent. The type of prayer we engage in depends on the nature of our relationship with God, and that relationship is not a static thing. It is multidimensional.

One can imagine a son who is an officer in the military and whose father is the Supreme Allied Commander Europe. Sometimes when he talks to his father it is as a son. They reminisce about the past or make plans for the future. They talk about fishing. They share a joke. These conversations are close and intimate, the kind a son has with his dad.

But there are other times when he speaks to his father as the Supreme Commander. At those times, he does not call his father “Dad” but “Sir.” They don’t talk over old times but current battle plans. The son receives orders, not advice. He asks the Supreme Commander to send his company supplies, not to pass the potatoes.

As a son, he might ask his dad for the potatoes or for anything else in his power to give. “Dad, I’ve got myself in a mess and could use some money.” Or “Dad, I’m not sure what to do in this situation. What do you think?” But as a soldier, he might ask for very different things, like reinforcements, tactical support, or the latest intelligence reports. The relationship between us and the heavenly Father is more complex still, for we are at once creatures of the Creator, servants of the Lord, priests of the most high God, and children of the heavenly Father.

Because our relationship with God is not one-dimensional, neither are our prayers. We see examples of this throughout the psalms. The psalmist sometimes talks things over with God in intimate conversation: “This is what is going on. I hate this.” “Thanks for that!” “I’m worried.” “I’m weak.” “Are you paying attention?” At other times, he asks God for things. “Break my enemy’s teeth.” “Let him fall into the trap he has made.” “Preserve me. Provide for me. Guide me. Help me!”

If prayer was only for getting things, there would not be much intimacy. If prayer was only making conversation, there would not be much change. But prayer is both—and much more. It facilitates the relationships we have with God as Father, as Master, and as King. No wonder the nineteenth century’s greatest preacher, Charles Spurgeon, said that he would rather teach one man to pray than ten men to preach.