Wake-up call: a caffeine-free morning prayer gives new meaning to the "sacrifice" of praise.

I RELUCTANTLY ROLL OUT OF BED AS THE ALARM RINGS. Stumbling to the living room, I grope for my glasses and a thick, leather-bound book to begin my day with the appropriate morning prayer of the Liturgy of the Hours. Some call the book a breviary. Not me. Just an ordinary Catholic husband, father, and working man, I refer to this hefty tome as my prayer book.

I quietly settle down on the sofa. Flipping the pages, my fingers find sections marked by colored ribbons and prayer cards. Attempting to concentrate on the words, I whisper the verses, sometimes not making a sound at all. My mind tends to wander toward the trap of paying more attention to the mechanics of this complicated procedure than the actual prayers and readings. During the 15 minutes I am praying, I occasionally find myself dozing off. In fine Catholic tradition I ask forgiveness and resolve to do better.

Dawn arrives and I know I got a few good lines in before I move on to the rest of my day. I don't trust myself to a cup of coffee before I offer my morning prayer. One benefit gained through regular participation in the Liturgy of the Hours, or Divine Office as it is also known, is discipline. I add a little more to the sacrifice if I offer it without caffeine.

To get the most out of my prayer time, I try to slow down and really absorb what I read. In today's world, with our constant attention to the clock, this is not easy. When I take the time to slow down before I begin, I offer a much more meaningful prayer.

Why do I pray this way? By praying the psalms, a key part of the Office, I participate in the prayer of my Jewish ancestors in faith. These are the same words of joy, despair, pain, and awe that King David prayed--on both his good days and his bad ones. Jesus, Mary, and the apostles--devout Jews themselves prayed and memorized these same psalms. Jesus even prayed one of them, Psalm 22, from the cross, at least as the gospels tell it.

I don't quite have them committed to memory yet, but a few pieces of this beautiful poetry have nestled in my heart. Repeated meditation has led me to understand how God is my "rock and my salvation" (Ps. 62:2). I get excited now when I recognize a psalm during Mass that I have prayed in the early morning.

Besides a more disciplined prayer life, daily participation in the liturgy through the Office gives me a better understanding of the Bible, from the writings of the Jewish prophets to the letters of St. Paul. I clearly see how the Old and New Testaments are linked. I read prophecies of the Messiah and descriptions of his birth, life, ministry, death, and Resurrection. As many have said, the New Testament cannot be fully understood without knowing the Old, and vice versa. The scriptures are now a part of my life. I don't have whole passages memorized, but I surprise myself when a verse rolls through my head during the day.

Even more, each day as I read the New Testament selections, I am in touch with our Savior's direct teaching. I know Jesus speaks to me as he has to many others, but there are times when his words seem clearly intended to guide me through my struggles. When this happens, I reflect that sometimes miracles come in unexpected packages.

The Divine Office is also filled with the writings of many saints. Their observations are amazing. I am especially awed by the descriptions of martyrs' final moments. Such strength and faith are truly inspirational. These writings remind me that many saints held prayer books in hand, just as I do. They did so during times of peace and times of combat. Certainly some of these heroes must have had moments where they were as frustrated with the intricacies of this prayer as I have been. Somehow this reassures me.

MAYBE I WILL SOON BE COMFORTABLE ENOUGH TO GO public with my morning devotion by finding a parish or monastery offering group celebration of the Liturgy of the Hours, which is actually designed to be prayed in common rather than recited privately. The tough part would be driving there so early in the morning with no coffee in my bloodstream. Am I ready for that much sacrifice yet?

By BILL HARKINS, who recently retired from the U.S. Marine Corps and is now focusing on his family and faith in Mobile, Alabama.