RAWtools South

By Stan Wilson

The first time we publicly exhibited the garden tools that my friend, Scotty Utz, had forged from gun parts, I was afraid. I stood at a table at a maker’s fair, displaying the new RAWtools South logo and about a dozen hand shovels and maddocks, all made from donated gun barrels. 

I was afraid because I know guns are totems. They are spiritually significant material objects that represent deep human concerns for self, protection, and dignity. They can also conjure fear, and they are tangled in powerful stories. I knew to be afraid because I knew someone would be angry, and I didn’t know what I would say when that happened. 

Then I saw a man, casually strolling from table to table, heading our way. I could tell by his hat that he might be the one. He asked, “What’s all this?” And I said, “We turn unwanted guns into garden tools and art.” 

He replied emphatically, “I believe in self defense!” 

Reaching for words, I said: “That sounds really important. Everybody needs to think about their own self defense, and we’re not here to tell anybody what to do about that. But all these guns come with stories. There are reasons people don’t want them.”

And then, courageously, he revealed his own vulnerable humanity: “I did something with a gun once, and I don’t think I can ever be forgiven.” He shared his own story: No one was physically injured, but a relationship was severed over a gun that was a gift to his daughter and was later mishandled by his grandson. He wanted to take that gift back and try again, but he didn’t think he ever could.

Guns come with stories. We learned that the previous Spring when Circle of Mercy tried our first gun disposal event, in partnership with Land of the Sky UCC and Asheville Friends. 

Scotty invited me to take a five-week online Action Circle, designed by the Presbyterian Peace Fellowship (PPF) to walk people through how to dismantle a gun and invite their congregations into “guns to gardens” ministries. The PPF is extraordinary, by the way. They are leading the way on gun violence prevention.

After that course, Scotty took the idea to the Friends meeting. I took it to Missy Harris, my co-pastor, and we took it to Sara Wilcox, our intrepid friend who said we could do it in the Land of the Sky UCC parking lot. BeLoved Asheville brought chop saws and enthusiasm. First Congregational UCC helped get the word out.

We held that first safe gun disposal event on Mother’s Day weekend, inviting the public to turn in unwanted guns, anonymously, on a Saturday morning. We destroyed the guns on site with borrowed chop saws, after volunteers with gun knowledge checked to make sure they were unloaded. 

We recruited some volunteers to be “shepherds,” who walked the gun donors through the event and listened to the stories that came with the guns. Some donors have guns that have been used for harm, including suicide. Some have guns they fear will be used against them. Others have vulnerable loved ones in the house, including children or adults with dementia or suicidal ideation. We heard 19 such stories that first day. 

The beauty and poignancy of that event led Scotty to start RAWtools South and invite me to join him. Mike Martin launched RAWtools a decade before in Colorado Springs. (RAW is WAR spelled backward.) Scotty was drawn to the vision, and Mike was drawn to Scotty’s artistry and enthusiasm. 

We launched RAWtools South in 2024, and we’ve been busy ever since. We’ve filled a trailer with chop saws and generators and traveled the South, discovering courageous congregations. We’ve hosted quiet, sacred rituals for families grieving the loss of loved ones who have died by suicide. We’ve listened to college students who are tired of school shootings and who are hearing a call to Christian nonviolence. We’ve encountered folks in rural and urban settings with stories about the ways that guns have shaped their lives – both positively and painfully. This is disarming and deeply hopeful work. 

First Baptist Asheville has hosted our local gun disposal event the past two years, and I’m struck by the courage it takes to do that. It takes courage just to acknowledge our fears, much less face them. It takes courage to dethrone the totems we carry. It takes courage to go public and meet neighbors. But courage is contagious, and it’s spreading.

This fall we will move into a shop in Weaverville, where we will teach blacksmithing and study nonviolence with anyone ready to explore a hopeful way to cultivate peace. Come see us.