To those who knew them, Rubin and Goldie were simply good, faithful people — the kind who clipped coupons, drove practical cars, and found joy in the uncomplicated rhythms of a well-ordered life. Their modest home said nothing of the quiet discipline and wisdom with which they had stewarded their resources across decades of marriage. But faithful stewardship has a way of accumulating into something far greater than the sum of its parts.

When someone sat down with Rubin and Goldie and shared the vision for advancing Apostolic education, something stirred in them. They hadn't been looking for a monument to their name. They were looking for meaning — a way to ensure that what God had entrusted to them would keep working long after they were gone. A charitable trust became the vehicle. It was structured carefully, legally sound, and perfectly suited to people who had always believed that doing things right mattered.

When Rubin and Goldie passed, their trust transitioned seamlessly into an endowment. Today, that endowment quietly does what they always did — shows up faithfully, year after year, funding ministries and causes that are shaping the next generation of the Kingdom. They never made headlines. But eternity will tell a different story.

You don't have to be wealthy to think like a steward. You just have to be willing to ask the question: what could my faithfulness look like a hundred years from now?