“Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day; teach a man to fish and he will never go hungry.” – Anne Isabella Thackeray Ritchie, Mrs. Dymond (1885)
I’ve always been pretty handy with tools. In high school I loved woodwork and technical studies, and many of my early jobs involved working with my hands. Given the right tools, some freedom, and a little vision, I can be resourceful—think Chip Gaines, but fatter, funnier, and with a much better accent.
It runs in the family. My dad worked in heavy industry, steelwork to be exact. He was a problem solver before YouTube tutorials made it easy. He wasn’t boastful, but if he faced a jam, he figured it out. Ironically, after I left school, he wanted me to go to university, but I didn’t think I was smart enough. It took me nearly 30 years to realize that I did have the smarts. By God’s grace, I now have an ASBA (Class of 2025) and am pressing on toward my bachelor’s.
Some of my fondest memories with my dad were those days when we finished a long job together, exhausted, filthy, and proud. (The last time, Dad, I and several others built a fence for a dog run) At the time, I didn’t realize how special those days were. Looking back, I now see the value in the time, the sweat, and the lessons he was trying to pass on. “Listen, my son, to your father’s instruction and do not forsake your mother’s teaching” (Proverbs 1:8, NIV). I wish I had leaned into those opportunities more.
These days, I have “toolbox number one”—my trusty handyman’s kit, full of mismatched tools I’ve picked up over the last few years. To anyone else, it’s just a generic cheap plastic box from Walmart. To me, it represents creativity, problem-solving, and the joy of making something useful. Each hammer strike, each measured cut, carries with it the memory of my dad’s patience and skill in the hope that somehow he would be proud of me.
And yes, those who know me on social media also know about my Harbor Freight obsession—especially with landscaping tools and chainsaws. (Think Wile E. Coyote with his ACME gadgets, but hopefully with fewer explosions.)
Here’s the truth: tools don’t need to be expensive to be meaningful. God often takes what seems ordinary and uses it for extraordinary purposes. “But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us” (2 Corinthians 4:7, NIV). In the same way, the mismatched tools in my box aren’t about appearances—they’ve been used to fix, to build, and to bring joy.
One day, I hope to have a garage where I can turn my hand to bigger projects. But for now, I remind myself of the “7 Ps” from the British Army: “Proper Planning and Preparation Prevents P** Poor Performance.”* Life—and faith—often works the same way. When we prepare our hearts with God’s Word and keep our spiritual tools sharp, we are better equipped to face whatever challenges come. “So that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work” (2 Timothy 3:17, NIV).
So beware of Scotsmen with toolboxes and chainsaws—we might just fix something you’ve given up on, or even better, show you that with the right tools (and a little grace), you can do it yourself.
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