THE ENFORCER
Story of "Happy Jack"
Burbridge
"I've been in a number of prisons.
Attica, less than a year after the bloody
riots.
San Quentin, a couple of times, the second time with my
whole family. A number of other prisons,
maximum and minimum security, with and without musicians.
When I go in, I always follow Johnny Cash's advice, "just
tell them you care, and don't preach to
them." Johnny knows what he's talking about, and confided that
most of the prisoners, male and
female, would figure I had some kind of "angle", and be
suspicious of me. He said that just going in,
singing and caring enough to be there would be sermon enough.
I usually go at least one step further and let them know
that it's because I'm a Christian that I care.
In the back of my mind,I'm always remembering that Jesus
promised He would ask us, when we stood
before Him in that last day "when I was sick and in
prison-where were you? Did you visit me?"
The part of that, that gets me is that Jesus identifies with
the prisoner! And after many visits, I'm
beginning to understand why.
There are Jesus people in every prison.
In many cases, they were Christians before they got there,
but didn't allow Jesus to guide their lives.
They allowed the flesh, the lure of material things the
appetites and dictates of human nature or the
influence of friends to drag them down. But they are born again
people who have fallen on the rocks.
Others have become believers while in prison. In almost
every correctional facility or prison in the
United States, Jesus has His people and is working there just
as actively as anywhere else in our
society. And in His ministry and in His teaching He seems more
concerned about the prisoner, the
naked and the hungry and the sick than any of the "well
folks".
That's where Happy Jack comes in.
If you ever needed a dramatic example of how much Jesus
loves the unlovable, and how He can
transform the most "hopeless" case into a loving and useful
servant-Happy Jack is it.
I met Jack Burbridge some years back, and was impressed with
the dramatic change in his life and the
glow in his face. It was hard for me to imagine that his former
life had been as sordid and violent as he
said it was, but it was that, and more.
Maybe Jesus uses people like Jack as wonderful examples that
He can change anybody, that no one is
beyond His redemptive power and His limitless grace. I think
you'll get many a thrill, and shed a few
tears, as you travel along the road with Jack.
He deserves the name "Happy Jack"- because he's got
everything in the world to be happy about And
I think you'll be happier too, as you share in the good things
Jesus has done for and through him."
Pat Boone
Beverly Hills, California
Jack Burbridge
By his own admission, Jack Burbridge was once "as mean as a
snake." Tall, muscular and blessed with
light-ring-quick reactions, he had, during military service
days, the reputation of being "able to whip
anybody."
Jack was in some kind of trouble all during his days in the
service and even before. Offered the job of
an underworld "enforcer," 21-year-old Jack Burbridge, naturally
"at home" in the middle of a barroom
fight, reveled in his new responsibilities. He actually smiled
and smirked while beating up club
managers who were trying to "hold out" on their payments to the
organized crime syndicate for
"backing," "protection" etc.
This earned him the admiring nickname "Happy Jack." For
awhile, all went well. Jack had money and
the reputation of being one of organized crime's most feared,
top enforcers.
Some real believers in the Lord were praying for Jack at
this time. Finally, the Holy Spirit used the
calm witness of one man to reveal to Jack that he was neither
happy nor a very nice person. He was
marvelously saved by the Lord Jesus Christ. Jail officials were
amazed at the way he was delivered
from a deadly heroin habit.
This is "Happy Jack's" startling story, sent forth for a
double purpose, to encourage those behind bars
and to proclaim to all people everywhere the mighty power of
the One who saves, loves and gives hope.
CHAPTER ONE
Stealing Blood
Clink.
The sound of metal on metal broke the stillness of a dark
street in Mishawaka, Indiana. A hub
cap clattered on the pavement
"Hey! Who's out there?" A man's voice came suddenly out of
the darkness.
"Let's go!" my buddy whispered, his voice frantic. "Somebody
heard us! Hurry!"
Our footsteps echoed on the sidewalk as lights flickered on
in a nearby house. We vanished
down the block, running as fast as we could.
"Do you think he saw us?" one of my friends asked when we
finally stopped to catch our
breath.
We waited for someone to follow. But no one did.
I was just 13 years old when I began stealing hub caps with
my friends. By the time I was 15
years old, I was stealing the whole car. By the age of 21, I
was an enforcer for organized
crime; by the age of 29, I was a bank robber, heroin addict and
next in line for the FBI's 10
Most Wanted List.
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