Our nation has faced so many horrific acts of gun-related violence in recent years that we have all become become sadly savvy to the media cycle of these tragedies. First is the incident, then come comments from politicians and others of “thoughts and prayers.” People argue about changing our gun laws. And nothing happens.

As our society watches this pattern again and again, outrage has grown over the idea of people offering “thoughts and prayers.” And not without reason. To issue a call for prayer for those in Sutherland Springs, as Speaker of the House Paul Ryan did yesterday, when he and his party refuse to support even the most basic gun control legislation is the height of cynicism.

Prayer has become the patsy of politicians and others, a way of suggesting concern without actually having to do anything of substance.

And yet the real problem is not the offering of prayers in the face of tragedy but the interpretation of what prayer entails. To hear many talk, prayer is like a divine Craigslist. I post the things that I want or need, or that I think others need right now—please, God, help these families who are suffering right now—and then I hope for God to respond.

Prayer has become the patsy of politicians and others, a way of suggesting concern without actually having to do anything of substance.

This is not a bad thing in and of itself. Indeed, it is an expression of support tempered by a legitimate sense of helplessness; I so want to do something for you, but I also know nothing I can say or do will be of any use to you. So I turn to the only one I know who might be able to help, and I ask him to intercede.

But prayer is not just about asking God for stuff, or about me speaking to God. It is more like neighbor kids talking to one another on two cans tied together with string; I talk in one end and hope that God can hear me. But I also listen for what he has to say. God doesn’t just take our dictation. He gets the chance to speak.

I admit, most of the time his end of the conversation can be pretty quiet. Maybe I’m not using the right kind of string, or the Lord has just a really soft voice; either way it can be easy to forgo the whole listening thing as not worth the time.

But even when it seems like fidgety wasted time, things often do get “said” in God’s silence. It’s the little insights that come about a project; the unexpected peace of mind that I have afterward when going through my day; or the gut feeling I suddenly get in the quiet about how I have treated someone or what I should do about something. If we listen, God finds a way to speak to us.

At its core, prayer is about a relationship between us and God. It’s like family dinner, or a glass of shiraz with your partner before bed—a way we enable that relationship to grow. Sure, some of the time we’re speaking, but if it is going to be much of a relationship we are also going to listen, be still and respond to the prompts that come.

When we offer “thoughts and prayers,” the commitment we are making is both to ask God to help and to take some time to listen for his suggestions as how we might contribute to that, or his point of view on what is going on.

If I say I will offer thoughts and prayers but my own thoughts don’t change or grow in any way, if the process of prayer over time leads to nothing new, no fresh choices or insight, the fact is that I am missing something. Prayer is not supposed to be a substitute for action, but a means by which we learn the right actions to take.

Jim McDermott writes about pop culture at jimmcdermott.substack.