Here's an excerpt from Deborah Mathis' book- What God Can Do. The book is available through Amazon and the usual other locations.

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Nonetheless, Matt soldiered on, hoping to recoup the high he used to feel when his buddies slapped him on the back or raised a glass to him in praise of some new treachery in the name of “the cause.” But nothing would silence that little voice, growing louder and more frequent now, and nothing would calm the turbulence Matt felt in his gut.

Then one day Matt’s mother was robbed and roughed up. He was livid. But before he could launch a plan of revenge, he learned that a black man had witnessed the attack and had come to his mother’s rescue. Later, that man would work tirelessly to see that the assailant was caught and punished.

The voice in Matt’s head was insistent now. Abandoning questions, it now made declarative statements: Racism is wrong. Hatred is wrong. The skinheads are leading you to destruction. You are squandering your life. You need to get right with your family. You need to get right with God. The voice angered Matt. But he couldn’t make it stop.

Eventually, Matt’s resistance wore down. He began, slowly, to distance himself from the skinheads, not showing up for certain rituals or drinking binges; excusing himself from some of the group’s assault and vandalism sprees. For some reason, he could not tear himself away from the skinheads entirely, but embarked upon a weaning process and step-by-step parted company with the crew and its vile philosophy.

“Things just started happening,” Matt says, explaining his transformation. “Everybody has their own personal conscience, but God, I believe, was behind it one hundred percent. At the level I was involved in, three was no way that if something wasn’t there powerful enough to pull me out, I wouldn’t have gotten out of it. I know it was Him who made me see the light. I didn’t want to see it at first, but He overpowered me.”

As Matt began to withdraw from the skinheads, he made amends with his estranged family. They were relieved by his decision to pull out of the skinheads and encouraged Matt to rebuild his life. But there were still problems ahead. He had no education. He had no job. As far as he could see, he had no future. It was tempting to turn back to the skinheads—at least with them he had people who looked up to him and a way to while away the endless hours. But that voice propelled him forward, uncertain though he was of where he was headed. For a time, he held a low-paying job and moved in with his girlfriend, even talked about getting married. But seven dollars an hour was meager earnings and the relationship was strained by destitution until it broke. Matt was determined to get his life together. But how and where?

One day in the spring of 2003, shortly before he severed all ties with the skinheads, nineteen-year-old Matt set out on foot to his stepmother’s workplace to fetch a house key. It was a long walk, and, soon exhausted, he stopped an off-duty police officer and asked for a ride the rest of the way. The cop refused.

A passerby witnessed the exchange and, intrigued, approached Matt and offered him a ride to his stepmother’s office. The man was curious about Matt’s tattoos. Were they skinhead insignia? He asked as they drove through downtown. Yes, Matt replied, explaining what the movement was about and why he had become a part of it.


As Matt would soon learn, this was no ordinary stranger. Steve Nawojczyk was something of a legend. For nearly a decade, he had devoted his energies to leading wayward youth out of the thicket of gangs, drugs, violence, and aimlessness. Time after time, Steve had wandered into dens of dangerous youth that others dared not approach.

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