07/14/2026
A message and tribute from Letitia Williams, CEO
It is with profound honor, deep gratitude, and a heavy heart that I share the passing of our beloved founder, mentor, and friend, Marshall Horn.
On July 12, 2026, at the age of 90, Marshall entered the presence of the Savior he loved so deeply and faithfully served throughout his life.
While our hearts grieve his absence, we rejoice knowing that the faith he so passionately shared has now become his eternal reality. We can only imagine the joy of hearing the words he spent his life longing to hear:
"Well done, good and faithful servant."
There are some people who come into your life for a season.
And then there are people like Marshall Horn.
People who become woven into the fabric of your story.
I've known Marshall and Sherry since I was about six years old. While my parents became friends with them through antiques, art, business, and barter, I was just a little girl who wanted to be wherever Marshall and Sherry were. They had an antique store in Stroud, and I loved going there.
Marshall always had another story to tell, and I always had another question to ask.
I remember the stories.
I remember laughing.
I remember listening.
I remember feeling loved.
I didn't know then that God was writing a story that neither of us could see.
Over the years, I watched Marshall go from being a successful businessman and trusted appraiser to becoming something he loved even more—a servant. When God called he and Sherry to feed hungry children, they didn't hesitate.
They simply said yes.
That yes became millions of meals.
Thousands of volunteers.
More than 80 countries.
And countless lives changed.
But if you asked Marshall what his greatest accomplishment was, I don't think he'd talk about the meals.
He'd talk about Jesus.
Because every story eventually led there.
If you ever sat with Marshall very long, you know exactly what I mean.
He'd start talking about art...or Haiti...or business...or singing on the radio at 3 years old…or the loss of his son...or surviving cancer...or a miracle in the mission field.
And before long he'd lean in close, his eyes filling with tears, and say,
"Don't you see? It's all about Him."
That was Marshall.
In 2019, he and Sherry asked Jonathan and me if we would consider taking on the ministry of Kids Against Global Hunger.
We thought they were mistaken-there must be someone more qualified.
Besides, Marshall planned on living to be 120, and honestly...we believed he would.
But God had other plans & we couldn’t say no.
On July 9, 2020, Marshall officially passed the baton.
Well...sort of.
Because Marshall didn't have a baton.
Instead, he left the room and came back carrying a Native American flute.
If you knew our families, you know how perfect that was. Our lives had been connected for decades through Native American art, antiques, and a friendship that stretched all the way back to my childhood.
So instead of a baton...
He handed me a beaded flute.
Only Marshall would think of something like that.
I've smiled every time I've thought about it since.
Over the next couple of years, I realized my greatest responsibility wasn't learning how to run a nonprofit.
It was sitting beside Marshall and listening.
Listening to the stories.
Even the ones I'd already heard.
Because somewhere in every story was another piece of wisdom I was going to need someday.
As dementia slowly began to steal parts of his memory, there was something it never seemed to steal.
Whenever we'd see each other, he'd reach for my hand.
"I've known you since you were a little girl."
"I trust you."
"You know that?"
"Yes, sir."
"I trust you to follow the Holy Spirit...and do the right things."
"Yes, sir. I will."
Those words have echoed in my heart ever since.
Our Against Global Hunger family grieves the loss of the man God used to build this ministry, but we also continue to celebrate a life that was poured out for others.
Marshall taught us that one ordinary person who simply keeps saying "yes" to God can change the world.
He did.
We miss the sharp suits.
The familiar cologne.
The endless stories.
The laughter.
The way he could somehow turn every conversation back to Jesus.
But what a gift to have known him.
What a gift to have learned from him.
And what a gift to continue the work that God placed on his heart so many years ago.
Marshall, thank you.
For believing in me before I ever believed in myself.
For trusting us with something so precious.
And for reminding all of us, over and over again, what matters most.
People need to know they are not forgotten.
They need reminding that Jesus still cares about them.
And they need to be told, “if you’re still breathing- He’s not finished with you yet!”
It is indeed all about Him.
Rest well, our dear friend. ❤️
