Once upon a time, a college kid sat rapt, listening as an “old” missionary philosopher — I think he was younger than I am now — sat in his living room and spun a vision of a mystical Christianity that revels in the physicality of the Creation: of the kind of Christian that could chase a sunset, caress a stream, focus meditatively on a single bite of a strawberry, and be guided by the Spirit of God in it all.
I was that kid, and I’ve carried that vision in my heart for some 30 years. It’s guided my spirituality, my studies, my career choices, how I spend my free time, the sort of father I am, and so much more.
Bob Hitching was that philosopher, the only kind of philosopher I’ve ever cared about as an adult — the kind with dirt under his fingernails, elbow-deep in serving those around him. That conversation in his living room prepared me well for resisting the gnostic-lite temptations of evangelical Protestantism, and forging a lush spirituality that is biblical enough to stand up to the unapologetic physicality of resurgent neopaganism. I am who I am for my pagan friends today because of the challenge Bob tossed in my lap three decades ago.
Bob had a way of issuing life-altering challenges…and yet, it was singularly difficult to resist a challenge from Bob, partly because he was such a crazy man himself. He embodied what he preached, and he preached the holistic, culture-transforming power of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Bob was the sort of missionary that didn’t just want to see a handful of believers huddling in a basement somewhere. He wanted to see desperate children fed, educated, and happy — so he was as willing to build houses and literacy programs as to preach. He wanted to see kids with no prospects get through trade school and launched into careers — so he was as willing to start scholarship programs as to preach. He wanted them all to have the Bible in their own language, and if they didn’t read their own language, he was willing to write comic books to give them something to read so they’d be ready for the Bible when the translation was finally done. And all along the way, he preached the gospel. Bob was passionate, tenacious, imaginative. God could give him anything to do, because he’d do absolutely anything.
That conversation in his living room wasn’t the only time Bob touched my life. He wrote a couple of books that altered the way I see the world, taught a course on modernity that did the same, inspired the creation of the ministry that took me to Russia, preached a sermon on Romans 3:24 that forever changed my understanding of preaching, and once used me (without naming me) as a sermon illustration to point out specific weaknesses in the way our church discipled its youth (and he was right, too!). I served on his board at Roma Bible Union for a couple of years, and in the last few years before his repose, he challenged me to find new vehicles for helping people grasp the goodness of the Creation. I’m still in the middle of that assignment — we’ll see where it goes. Bob has challenged me, infuriated me, inspired me, and been a model for me.
Reminiscing to my wife Kimberly about him, I found myself saying that Bob had a high-impact touch. It’s not like we talked every week or anything — sometimes we went years between interactions — but when he showed up in my life again, he had a way of facilitating major course corrections. I love him dearly, and I’ll be grateful to him forever.
Two years ago today, Bob suddenly met the Creator face to face. I’ve every confidence that perfectly stripped of his sins and fears, he now enjoys sunsets with a ferocity that I’ll never match in this life.
Won’t stop me from trying, though.
See you soon, old friend.
Posted by Tim Nichols 
Full Contact Christianity 