The Love and Legacy of Christ in Us

Family doesn’t always come in the ways we expect. Sometimes it’s the people who open their homes to you in a season of need. Sometimes it’s those who welcome you to their dinner table, remember your name, and offer the kind of care that heals places in your heart you didn’t know were hurting.

Over the years, the Lord has used many different people to shape my understanding of love, belonging, and legacy — but few have impacted me like the Hornsby family. They took me in at a time when I felt unanchored and unseen, and through their kindness, I caught a glimpse of the kind of family God intended all along.

Recently, I attended the funeral of Brother Scott Hornsby. For me, funerals often stir deep reflection. I find myself asking: Has my life mattered? Have I made a difference? Will I leave something lasting behind?

Brother Scott’s life answered those questions with a resounding yes. He and his wife, Mrs. Merriann, were married for 57 years — a lifetime of faithfulness and fruit. Together, they raised three children, poured into ten grandchildren, and were preparing to welcome their sixth great-grandchild. Their family tree is vibrant, flourishing with love and faithfulness.

But numbers alone don’t tell the story. Impact does.

Let me take you back about 20 years. I was nearing the end of college and in a bit of a transitional season. I’d moved out of the dorms but hadn’t yet landed on where I’d go next. That’s when Mary Jane — Brother Scott’s daughter — and her husband, Todd, offered for me to stay with them and their young daughter.

Their invitation changed me. I had never experienced that kind of kindness before. Opening your home to someone isn’t a small thing — it’s intimate, vulnerable, generous. I was in my early twenties and still figuring out who I was. Their willingness to welcome me in introduced me to something I had missed growing up in a dysfunctional environment: a picture of a healthy, Christ-centered family.

During those months, I got to know the extended Hornsby family. We’d drive out to Bluff Creek, where most of them lived, and gather for birthdays, holidays, or just a visit. I have precious memories of those times — watching the kids grow, sitting on the bathroom floor for girl talk with one of Mary Jane’s sisters-in-law, and simply being welcomed as one of their own.

This family exudes the love of Christ. Each one of them opened their hearts and lives to a young woman who was, honestly, lonely and hurting. They served and gave without hesitation. They made me feel seen, known, and safe. And they spoke truth and encouragement, and even correction when needed, with grace and love.

The Hornsbys have lived out the words of Hebrews 13:16 (NLT): “And don’t forget to do good and to share with those in need. These are the sacrifices that please God.” They’ve embodied Galatians 6:10: “Therefore, whenever we have the opportunity, we should do good to everyone — especially to those in the family of faith.” They never gave to get something in return. They blessed because it’s who they are — obedient, faithful, generous people.

When I think of legacy, I think of family. Not just biological family, but spiritual family too. For those of us who grew up in broken homes or without close family ties, we’ve had to believe that the Body of Christ could become our family. We’ve had to trust that God would meet our needs through His people — that we wouldn’t have to strive for an invite, beg to be included, or prove we’re worth loving. We’ve had to hold onto hope that we’d be seen, loved, and valued — at the right time, by the right people.

Over the years, life has become full and busy. I haven’t spent much time with the Hornsbys lately. The once-little ones are grown now — married and raising babies of their own. Still, after the funeral, I spent the rest of the day at Mrs. Merriann’s home. It was bittersweet. Sad that Brother Scott was no longer there, but beautiful to see the family laughing, reminiscing, and dreaming about the future together.

As believers, we don’t grieve without hope. We know that now is not forever, and Heaven is our home. Brother Scott’s funeral was a celebration of a life well-lived. His sons and close friends told story after story of his faith, his leadership, his quiet strength, and his Christlike character.

Yes, Brother Scott was a pastor, a visionary, a leader in the Kingdom. But his greatest legacy wasn’t what he did — it was how he loved. The way he loved his wife, his children, his grandchildren. The way he showed up for his church family and welcomed people like me into the fold. That’s the kind of legacy that changes lives.

Our real legacies are not what we do for God, but how we love one another. God joyfully adopted us as His own, and it’s our joy to carry that love forward.

I count it one of the greatest gifts of my life to have been embraced by the Hornsby family. Their love and kindness left a permanent mark on my heart.

My prayer is that you and I would live the kind of lives that carry the love and legacy of Christ.

Have you experienced that kind of love and legacy in your life? I’d love to hear your testimony.