Poem: Breakfast With Saucy Jack

I got a standing breakfast date with Saucy Jack 

every morning at the same time, around dawn, 

as hell's bells cease to chime and I hear the 

bells of Old Bailey (that's an England thing 

for you Yanks). Jack never tries to pay me, 

and he never says thanks. The deal is, he 

tells me about life, things gritty and ugly 

and hard, things that made King George crack - 

and I don't tell Scotland Yard his name ain't really Jack.

I know what he's been doing all night, 

but I've never said I knew. But this morning, 

the severed kidney in his pocket killed my 

appetite (I wager it would yours too), so 

I ask my friend Jack, face to face, if only 

out of spite because my breakfast went to waste:
"Jack, how can you do what you do every night?"

"It's easy, boss," he says, "you pick the ones 

nobody wants - you can usually tell 'cos they 

got no teeth - pick a simpleminded one, a 

drunk one wobbly on her feet, and wear a 

dark coat so no one sees you run."

"I don't mean that, Jack. I mean, don't it bother 

you to kill?"
"Nah, mate; if they ain't human, it ain't murder. 

If I don't slice 'em, the Tories will."

"But don't you think it's a sin? Don't you think they matter?"
"It's a sin to starve in the East End, all the while Her Majesty gets fatter."

I don't bother to argue or tell him two wrongs 

don't make a right. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
"Mate, you know I never sleep a wink."

He's late for a meeting in Parliament and has to find a sink. 

Jack asks me to mail a letter and promise not to tell. 

It's a letter to the police, saying they'll never catch him, 

they're far too late, and it says it's sent 

"From Hell."

Jack puts on his coat and heads for Westminster. 

I tell him I'll mail his note, afraid he won't be my friend 

if I don't. I'm tempted to tell the Prime Minister, but it 

would do no good - he's the one who signed the bill 

Preacher Booth called a license to kill.

Tonight, below my room on Mitre Square, I hear 

a scream. I think of Saucy Jack - if she ain't human, 

what does it matter? I pretend it's all a dream, I pretend 

I'm not a coward, all the while a toothless nobody is 

sliced and overpowered. A little while passes, it's quiet 

on the Square; she ain't human, I think, 

why should anybody care?

Like clockwork, I hear a call for help and a 

peeler carriage clink and clatter.
Like a postcard from hell, my heart receives a message - 

"she ain't human; what's it matter?"

The Unfair Gospel of Jesus

Infamous serial killer, cannibal, and necrophiliac Jeffrey Dahmer accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior just two years or so before he himself was murdered in prison in 1994. For a life lived in disbelief, for well over a decade of murder and gruesome, vile acts upon other human beings, Jeffrey Dahmer served just over three years in custody before, according to the facets of the Christian Gospel, he was sent to the eternal bliss of Paradise. A saint simply being one who is in Christ, Jeffrey Dahmer holds the same title as Billy Graham.

This is unfair. The families of Dahmer's victims, who hoped to see him locked behind bars - and worse - received less than an ounce of justice when you consider Dahmer's short prison term on Earth, and the Gospel's promise that he, having accepted Christ, has been given eternal life with God.

The Gospel is a beautiful Gospel, but it's also a difficult one, a gritty one, a gory one, and by the standards of us fleshly creatures, a very unfair Gospel.

Jeffrey Dahmer's crimes may be unique in their exceptionally bizarre and heinous nature, but his circumstances as a whole are not. Multitudes and multitudes of sinners like Dahmer, like me, like you, have accepted the salvation offered by Jesus Christ through His sacrifice on the cross, and our crimes have been washed away, expunged from our records. We were not punished, we were not stoned to death by the congregation, not swallowed up by the earth, not plundered and torn apart by Babylonian invaders.

I, as the 57th worst sinner who ever lived, am not sorry for this. I feel no guilt or shame that I've been rescued from my sins while having paid no price for it to be so. I regret the price I made others pay in my sinful behavior, but the One who removed those crimes from my record doesn't desire that I wallow in shame and misery over it. He is faithful to give me tasks and duties to glorify Him, to live a life in light rather than the one I lived in darkness. But He's not required me to roll in ashes and beat my breast, declaring what miserable, rotten things I've done; He's not required me to pay a monetary tax as penance to keep me in His embrace.

This is grossly unfair. But if it's any consolation to the outside observer, God played by His own unfair rules when He came to Earth in the flesh and suffered just like you and I do.

He endured temptation, but was without sin. He faced scorn, ridicule and plots against His life, though He had done no wrong, though He had brought an abundance of good in His ministry. He endured every day frustrations and agonies like you and me. And, He was tried and condemned, though without sin, and executed in the most agonizing way possible. A true criminal, an insurrectionist named Barabbas, was meanwhile set free.

While He was fastened by nails to that ominous cross, slowly dying, a criminal crucified next to Him groaned in his own agony that this Man from Galilee had done nothing wrong, and asked the He remember him when He came into His kingdom - if the criminal even knew just what that meant.

The condemned sinless One declared to the condemned rotten one, "Assuredly, I say to you, today you will be with Me in Paradise."

For all his years of habitual offenses and recklessness, a few hours of faith in the One who shows grace and mercy brought the unknown criminal to eternal life where there is no more pain, decay, sorrow or death.

There is no way around it - the Gospel of grace is an unfair Gospel.

drawing by Albert Servaes

"'Take what is yours and go your way. I wish to give to this last man the same as to you'...So the last will be first, and the first last. For many are called, but few chosen."
-Jesus Christ, Matthew 20:14, 16