Tea with the Queen : a tribute to Carol Wimber-Wong (1937-2025)

 I was saddened to hear of the passing of Carol Wimber -Wong this past week. I am also so grateful for her faith legacy and wanted to post a tribute to her for the way in which her life and ministry impacted mine. I am praying that the blessed hope of the resurrection would comfort and all who mourn her death and that her life would inspire thousands to keep following hard after Jesus. This is something I wrote about Carol in 2013 and it remains as meaningful as ever to me today. 

"While I have always wanted to see leaders raised up to make a kingdom impact, my vision for cultivating young leaders with profound character was catalyzed and clarified over a cup of tea in 2013. I don’t even like tea, but I was excited at the privilege of having a cup with Carol Wong, who had been married to John Wimber—the founder of the fellowship of Vineyard churches. John died in 1997 but, by then, God’s work in the Vineyard had left an indelible mark on the worldwide church in terms of worship, healing and the prophetic.

A number of years after John died, Carol married Ken Wong, a close family friend who had also been wid
owed. In fact, Ken was the doctor who treated John during his battle with cancer. I visited them with a friend named Carl Tuttle. Carl had joined Southlands a year prior and was a worshipleader who had first met John and Carol as a teen. Even though at the time Carl was a young Christian who could barely strum three chords on the guitar, John asked him to start leading worship in the Bible study that would one day become the first Vineyard church.Carl eventually grew to be a prolific songwriter with a number of his songs becoming Vineyard standards around the world. He was also the man who took over leadership of the Vineyard in Anaheim after John became ill. Carl eventually had a breakdown and left the Vineyard under a cloud of suspicion and resentment.

He lost his marriage, his ministry and many friends during that tragic season—including his friendship with Carol. Fifteen years later, Carl was penitent and hoping to ebuild some of the bridges that had been broken. I reached out to Carol in the hopes of being a bridge builder. I got more than I bargained for because having tea with Carol was like having tea with the queen.

Sitting in their Yorba Linda home, Carol and Ken told me how they had recently been invited to Yorba Linda Friends Church’s 100th anniversary. It’s a remarkable thing to be able to celebrate a century of gospel impact. Yorba Linda Friends has an amazing record offaithfulness, extending as far as India, where they are the largest builder of schools among the Dalit caste.

Like any church, though, their tapestry has a few dark strands woven into the stunning pattern of their history. One of those strands was added at the end of the 1970s when the church asked the twelve families from a single Bible study to leave the church. The group had been meeting in the home of Carl’s mom and was led by John and Carol. They had begun exploring intimate worship, saturated by the presence of the Holy Spirit. It was an intoxicating time for these folks but uncomfortable for a church more cautious about the charismatic. In these rather messy circumstances, the Vineyard was planted.

Sitting in their lounge, Ken and Carol told me how delighted they were, more than thirty years later, tobe invited to Yorba Linda Friends’ centenary celebrations and to be publicly honored as a movement that God had birthed and multiplied. I believe this kingdom gesture will have immense redemptive ripple effects in the time to come.

But here’s the part that arrested me. Carol tells me that they were sitting there at the 100th anniversary when she turned to Ken and had the following conversation.

“Kenneth, these people haven’t seen the miracles we’ve seen. They haven’t enjoyed the worship we’ve enjoyed. They haven’t heard the prophecy we’ve heard. But they’ve done something we didn’t really do.”

“What’s that?” asked Ken.

“They raised sons and daughters who love and serve God. They discipled their kids,” she replied.

Then she turned to me with royal fire in her eyes and said, “We thought if we loved our kids enough and if they were anointed enough, it would be enough. But it wasn’t. We didn’t really discipline our children. Don’t choose between powerful encounters and discipling the next generation.”

It was a statement of honor towards Yorba Linda Friends, and a humble admission that as a people hungry for the power of the Spirit, we’ve often been guilty of valuing anointing over character, sudden over slow, converts over disciples—breakthrough now over maturity one day.

I don’t believe we’re called to ignore one at the expense of the other. An expectation of God’s power breaking in now is vital to capture the imagination of the next generation. But I wonder how differently we would live and lead if we thought, “What would this mean in a century’s time?” And I wonder how different our churches would look if we placed as much value on a lifetime of anointed plodding as we did upon one moment of power."

An excerpt from my book,"Broken for Blessing : the underrated potential of the medium-sized multiplying church." 

The Cabin and the Gift Basket: a Thanksgiving Reflection

 About a decade ago, a very kind lady in our church heard that I was struggling to find time to finish my  Masters thesis in the midst of juggling ministry and family. She approached me and told me that her father pastored a church about an hour away from us that had a small cabin on the property. She said she had asked him if I could come up to study and write for a couple of days a month, and that he was happy to provide the cabin to me free of charge. The cabin was in Lake Gregory, a quaint little alpine town with a picturesque lake in the San Bernardino mountains.

To say I was grateful would be an understatement. I was overwhelmed by her thoughtfulness, her father's kindness and the church's generosity. For a few years, once a month, I would drive up to that cabin on a Thursday afternoon, spend the night, work through my day off on Friday and drive back in the evening to be with my family and church for the weekend. The cabin was a gift of predictable solitude. I would pray and sing on the drive  up and down the mountain. It wasn't just productive. It was life giving. Although it was a working retreat, I would look forward to that monthly pilgrimage up the mountain to that cozy little cabin. I'd always make a point of stopping by the church office to pick up the key and express sincere gratitude for this wonderful gift.

As if this were not gift enough, there would always be a gift basket on the kitchen table when I unlocked the cabin. The basket would have all manner of little treats in it; coffee, soda, gum, candy, chocolate. It was a most unexpected surprise to find that this church had not only given me the use of their cabin, but had thoughtfully considered how to make my stay even more comfortable with this gift basket. Over the months on the drive up to the cabin I would find myself anticipating that gift basket, wondering what they had put in it this time. To be honest, as the months past by, I began to think more about the gift basket than the gift of the cabin. I'd arrive, collect the key from the office and make a bee line to the kitchen table to see what was in the basket this time around.

Eventually, the day arrived when the inevitable happened. I collected the key from the church office and upon opening the cabin, I discovered, to my dismay, that they had forgotten to give me a gift basket. I searched the cabin high and low but my gift basket was nowhere to be found. I felt disappointed. Sadly, even a bit sorry for myself. 

After some time, self pity made way for conviction. I had become ungrateful and entitled. There I was, sitting in a comfortable, warm, free cabin, feeling sorry for myself that I did not have my little gift basket. I had forgotten the enormous gift of shelter, comfort and peace in my fixation with a passing caffeine and sugar rush! I sensed God speak to me in the moment about how the cabin and the gift basket revealed a broader pattern of ingratitude in my heart. I tended to fixate on His sweet, temporary blessings, taking for granted His immovable blessings toward me in Christ. His salvation, His grace, His presence, His Word and His people were something that I so easily took for granted. And yet, they were by far the more enduring gift. The gift basket of material possessions, ministry success, new adventures, physical health and pleasure were all common graces, but they were fleeting at best. I had become forgetful of the Lord's great benefits and fickle in my gratitude.  

I love Thanksgiving as a holiday. I love the traditions of turkey recipe swapping and tables laden with green bean casserole, mashed potatoes and pecan pie. I love settling in to watch the football feeling stuffed after the meal, enjoying a lazy afternoon with family and friends with nothing more on the agenda than perhaps a second helping of pecan pie. I love that we take time to go around the table to express gratitude for God's provision. That's how Thanksgiving originated, after all. But I'm also aware of the irony that Thanksgiving morphs very quickly into Black Friday. One moment we're expressing  gratitude for all that we have and the next we are rushing to the nearest mall or laptop to get the best deal on what we simply cannot live without. Discontentment crouches at the door of Thanksgiving. 

So, at this time of year I use the cabin and the gift basket lesson as a kind of Thanksgiving audit of my soul. I will begin by giving thanks to God for the gift basket:  For the common graces of where we live, the food on the table, the money in our bank account, the roof over our heads, the health in my body. I thank God for his ministry blessings and the new adventures I've enjoyed. I thank God for the rich gift of marriage, family and friendship in our lives.( To place these precious relational blessings on the same level as financial blessing would be foolish, but my point is that none off these blessings are guaranteed to be permanent.) Then I thank God for the cabin of His immovable blessings in Christ; His gospel of grace, His Word and His Spirit, His family and His kingdom. While I am thankful for both gift basket and cabin, I try to ensure that my joy is anchored in the immovable cabin rather than the movable gift basket. When I do this it helps me to avoid self pity when the gift basket seems less full or even absent. (That family member I wish was at the table with us, but is not. That check I am waiting for that has not arrived. That purchase I am wanting to make but cannot afford) Giving thanks for the cabin helps me avoid fixation with the gift basket. 

So, I commend this audit to you at Thanksgiving, both for your joy and God's honor. May Jesus shape in us a powerful posture of gratitude that rejoices in the Thanksgiving tradition, but endures beyond it.  

"Thanks be to God who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenlies in Christ Jesus." (Ephesian 1:3 )

Happy Thanksgiving! 

No Longer Children: reflections on a decade of church planting

Branded on the leather key chain to the keys of my 2008 Ford F150 are the words "Southlands: A Gospel Constellation." It speaks of our multiplying vision. We are not trying to grow to be one giant planet of a church. Instead, we want to be a constellation of churches shining the light of the gospel into the darkness of this world. 

My truck is as old as my American sojourn. In 2008, we joined a church that had multiplied 12 times in 14 years. Southlands was a bit like my old truck. Sturdy, willing, productive but showing some signs of wear and tear. She was a medium sized church -  about 500 people, which is remarkable really, when you think that only 1% of American churches under 1000 ever plant churches. She was the little engine that could.  

When the apostle Paul described a mature church in his letter to the Ephesians, he seemed to mix his metaphors with ships and children. 'Then we will no longer be children, tossed to and fro by every wind and wave of doctrine." What he seemed to be driving at, was that stability is a mark of maturity. A mature church has  enough ballast in its boat to navigate through the storms of heresy and theological faddishness without getting blown over, whereas an immature church is easily blown off course, or pushed over like a little toddler trying to stand in the ocean. 

What is true of doctrinal maturity, is also true of missional maturity in a church. One may need to navigate different seasons and weather conditions, but mature churches can hold their course against rip tides and cross winds, tacking along until the tides turn and the winds are at their back. There was a year that we somehow made it into Christian Leadership magazine for being one of the top 100 multiplying churches in the nation, but honestly, much of the time we have flown beneath the radar, and our journey has been a bit like that of the missionary William Carey who said, "My only genius is I plod."

By God's grace we have multiplied 8 times in the last 11 years and are preparing to plant again next year. One of those churches was folded back into the base at Brea during the pandemic, having lost its venue and many of its people due to the strange socio-economic dynamics of that time. But all of the others have grown in health and strength, some steadily, some slowly and a couple more rapidly. What makes me most joyful is that one church has already planted another two churches amongst unreached people groups in Thailand. I heard about one of our plants that is around 150 in size that baptized 11 people last Sunday. This is the dream. This is the why of church planting. Ultimately it is not about pins on a map. We plant new churches because we believe that they are the most effective way of fulfilling the Great Commission. As Ed Stetzer, a prominent missiologist and president of the Billy Graham Center for Evangelism once said, "In winning new converts to Christ, church plants are light-years ahead of the average church because of their focus on reaching the unchurched. Healthy new churches have an outward focus from day one, communicating every month that the goal is to be a multiplying church.” (He is now the Dean of Talbot Seminary)

Another benefit of multiplication is that it creates a healthy vortex that draws spectator Christians out of the stands and on to the field of play as active disciples. This is true of leadership, volunteerism, generosity and prayer. In multiplication, the saints are equipped to do the work of ministry with a greater sense of urgency because multiplication creates a crisis of need. Larger churches that meet in one place tend to gather a larger crowd of consumers  who assume that the work of ministry will be done by professionals. This is true of smaller churches too, who can assume that it is only larger churches that will multiply. This is why I wrote Broken for Blessing  (Broken-Blessing) about the underrated potential of the medium sized multiply church. 

One of the tensions we've had to manage as we've matured into multiplication, is what I refer to as managing home and away game wins. Until 2010 we were like a team that won its away games but lost many of its home games. We had to push pause on planting for three years to regain home game wins - like financial and leadership health and seeing new disciples come to Christ regularly in our own zip code. Still today, more than ten years later, we are trying to find a sustainable rhythm of multiplying that enables the sending base to thrive, not just survive. That can be tricky, but we remain convinced, that like the boy with the loaves and fish in the feeding of the 5000, Jesus is asking us to put our loaves and fishes  in his hand to be broken, blessed and multiplied. He is able to multiply what we give him to feed the hungry multitudes with His life, and is able to replenish what we entrust to Him in good time. 

But the question remains, to every disciple and every church, "What will you do when Jesus asks you for your lunch?" When we respond willingly, we are caught up in His stunning multiplying miracle.