Ecclesial Identification Beyond Late Modern Individualism?

Ecclesial Identifi cation beyond Late Modern Individualism? Global Pentecostal and Charismatic Studies

Edited by Andrew Davies William Kay

Editorial Board Kimberley Alexander, Pentecostal Th eological Seminary Allan Anderson, University of Birmingham Mark Cartledge, University of Birmingham Jacqueline Grey, Alphacrucis College, Sydney Byron D Klaus, Assemblies of God Th eological Seminary, Springfi eld, MO Wonsuk Ma, Oxford Centre for Mission Studies Jean-Daniel Plüss, European Pentecostal/Charismatic Research Association Cecil M Robeck, Jr, Fuller Th eological Seminary Calvin Smith, King’s Evangelical Divinity School

VOLUME 10

Th e titles published in this series are listed at brill.nl/gpcs Ecclesial Identifi cation beyond Late Modern Individualism?

A Case Study of Life Strategies in Growing Late Modern Churches

By Karl Inge Tangen

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2012 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Tangen, Karl Inge. Ecclesial identifi cation beyond late modern individualism? : a case study of life strategies in growing late modern churches / by Karl Inge Tangen. p. cm. -- (Global Pentecostal and charismatic studies, ISSN 1876-2247 ; v. 10) Revision of the author’s thesis (doctoral)--Norwegian School of Th eology, 2009. Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index. ISBN 978-90-04-20617-5 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Church growth--Europe--Case studies. 2. Church growth--Pentecostal churches--Case studies. 3. Hillsong Church London (London, England) 4. Pentecostal churches--Denmark--Copenhagen--Case studies. 5. Identifi cation (Religion)--Case studies. I. Title.

BV652.25.T36 2012 289.9’409421--dc23 2011050331

ISSN 1876-2247 ISBN 978 90 04 20617 5 (hardback) ISBN 978 90 04 18480 0 (e-book)

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Th is book is printed on acid-free paper. CONTENTS

Abbreviations ...... xiii List of Figures and Tables ...... xv Preface ...... xvii Acknowledgements ...... xix

1. Introducing the Quest: Why and How to Read Th is Study ...... 1 Why Th is Study? – a Prologue ...... 1 Research Questions and Research Strategy ...... 2 Th e Organisation of the Study – and How to Read It ...... 4

2. Th eory: Consulting the Wise ...... 7 Th e Function and Use of Th eory in Th is Study ...... 7 Pentecostal and Free Church Perspectives – the First Horizon ...... 7 Th e Late Modern Person – Psychological and Sociological Views ...... 10 Robert Bellah’s Typology of Late Modern Languages ...... 10 Zygmunt Bauman on Consumerism and Ethics in Liquid Modernity ...... 15 Personal Agency and the Socio-Cultural Context – Margaret Archer ...... 16 Dan P. McAdams’ Model of Personality: Traits, Concerns and Narratives ...... 18 Sherwood Lingenfelter’s Typology of Social Games and Structures ...... 19 Models of Transformational Leadership in Organisational Psychology ...... 21 Burns’ and Bass’ Models of Morally Transforming Leadership ...... 21 Congregational Studies ...... 24 Dean Kelley’s Hypothesis – ‘Strictness’ Makes Conservative Churches Grow ...... 25 Sociological Studies of Late Modern Congregations ...... 26 Th eologically Motivated Church Growth Research ...... 27 Shane Clift on’s Study of the Australian Assemblies of God ...... 28 Academic Articles on the Hillsong Church ...... 28 vi contents

A Final Note on Terminology – A ‘Late Modern’ or ‘Post-Modern’ World? ...... 29 Summary: Key Concepts ...... 30

3. Contexts – Churches, Cities and Nations ...... 35 Pinsekirken in Copenhagen ...... 35 Denmark as Religious Context ...... 35 Th e History of Pinsekirken ...... 36 Historical Roots and Th eological Tradition ...... 38 Leadership and Organisational Structure...... 38 Important Practices ...... 39 Th e Church’s ‘Commitment Script’ ...... 42 Th e Church as an Organic Community of Spirit-Filled Disciples...... 46 Hillsong in London ...... 51 Britain as Religious Context ...... 51 A Comparative Note on Religious Demography ...... 52 Th e History of Hillsong ...... 53 Th eological Tradition ...... 53 Organisational Structure ...... 53 Important Practices ...... 55 Commitment Script: To be Empowered to Flourish within the Church ...... 58 Levels of Commitment to the Church ...... 62 Heroic Images and Family Metaphors ...... 65 Comparative Summary ...... 68

4. Persons – Stories From Copenhagen ...... 69 Introduction to the Chapter ...... 69 Th e Story of Peter ...... 70 Peter’s Story – Analysis ...... 77 Identifi cation Th emes – and Reasons ...... 77 New Commitments and Virtues ...... 79 Vocabulary, Images, and Horizon Narratives ...... 81 Modes of Identifi cation and Participation...... 84 Th e Process of Identifi cation and Transformation ...... 86 Personal Integration and Life Plot: Th e Spirit Empowered Explorer ...... 88 Th e Story of Ruth ...... 90 Ruth’s Story – Analysis ...... 97 contents vii

Identifi cation Th emes – and Reasons ...... 97 New Commitments ...... 98 Vocabulary, Images, and Horizon Narratives ...... 99 Modes of Identifi cation and Participation...... 103 Process of Identifi cation and Participation ...... 104 Personal Integration and Life Plot: A Homecoming in Process ...... 105 Th e Story of Pastor Marcus ...... 107 Marcus’ Story – Analysis ...... 113 Identifi cation Th emes – and Reasons ...... 113 Vocabulary, Images and Horizon Narratives ...... 115 Modes of Identifi cation and Participation...... 117 Th e Process of Identifi cation and Transformation ...... 119 Personal Integration: Life Plot: A Leader Called to Serve ...... 119 Other Voices From Copenhagen ...... 121

5. Persons – Stories From London ...... 125 Introduction to the Chapter ...... 125 Th e Story of Brittany ...... 125 Brittany’s Story – Analysis ...... 132 Identifi cation Th emes – and Reasons ...... 132 New Commitments and Virtues ...... 133 Vocabulary, Images and Horizon Narratives ...... 134 Modes of Identifi cation and Participation...... 137 Processes of Identifi cation and Transformation ...... 137 Personal Integration and Life Plot: Coming Home to a Journey of Discovery ...... 142 Th e Story of Earnest ...... 143 Earnest’s Story – Analysis ...... 150 Identifi cation Th emes – and Reasons ...... 150 New Commitments and Virtues ...... 152 Vocabulary, Images and Horizon Narratives ...... 153 Modes of Identifi cation and Participation...... 157 Process of Identifi cation and Participation ...... 158 Personal Integration and Plot: Becoming a Church Builder ...... 159 Th e Story of Pastor Dustin ...... 162 Dustin’s Story – Analysis ...... 164 Identifi cation Th emes – and Reasons ...... 164 New Commitments ...... 166 viii contents

Vocabulary, Images and Horizon Narratives ...... 167 Modes of Identifi cation ...... 168 Personal Integration and Life Plot. Th e Passionate Church Builder ...... 169 Other Voices from London ...... 171

6. Organisational Foci – Why Do People Identify? ...... 177 Th eo-Dramatic and Existential Identifi cation Th emes ...... 177 Th eme 1: A Th eo-Dramatic Vision, Clear Missions and Inspiring Imagoes ...... 177 Th eme 2: Practical Bible based Teaching ...... 179 Th emes Describing Practice Performance Identifi cation ...... 187 Th eme 3: Professionalism and Updated Aesthetics ...... 187 Th eme 4: Dynamic Practices, and Organisational Growth ...... 190 Th emes Describing Relational Quality Identifi cation ...... 193 Th eme 5: A Community and Friendships with Family Qualities ...... 193 Th eme 6: Connecting to Caring Growth Models and Trustworthy Pathfi nders ...... 196 Spirituality Th emes ...... 200 Th eme 7: Experiencing God as Caring Father and Dynamic Presence ...... 200 Belonging to God – Th en to the Church ...... 200 Summary ...... 210

7. Organisational Foci and Individual Integration ...... 213 Th e Purpose of this Chapter ...... 213 Th eme 8: Personal Integration – Finding a ‘Home’ to Centre Oneself ...... 214 A Sense of Home Revisited – Deliberative Centring ...... 214 Narrative Resources: Images and ‘Imagoes’ for Personal ‘Emplotment’ ...... 214 Life -Strategic Resources: Models for Personal Organisation ...... 215 Ritual Resources: Integration Rituals ...... 216 Stories of Homecoming – Home as a Metaphor of Centring ...... 217 Centring and the Duality of Belonging and Freedom ...... 217 contents ix

Inner Freedom as a Personal Capability and Relational Quality ...... 218 Spirituality and a Sense of Inner Freedom and Well Being...... 220 Th eme 9: Redemption as Personal Growth ...... 221 Redemptive Subplots: Deliverance, Healing and Spiritual Empowerment ...... 222 Journeys of Discovery, and Personal and Spiritual Empowerment ...... 222 God’s Love and Self-Identity – A New Sense of Self-Acceptance ...... 223 Growth Stories: Incorporating and Overcoming Tensions ...... 224 Performance Enablement and Psychological Flow ...... 224 A Comparison with McAdams’ Research on Redemptive Stories ...... 226 Redemption in the Context of Late Modernity ...... 227 Th eme 10: Th e Possibility of Self-Transcendent Contributions ...... 229 Personal Integration Identifi cation Defi ned ...... 231 Towards a Model of Integrative Th emes ...... 232 Towards an Overarching Model of Organisational Identifi cation ...... 233 Th e Five Meta-Categories and Ontological Dimensions ...... 234 Th e Practical Dimension ...... 234 Th e Socio-Relational Dimension and Virtues ...... 235 Th e Personal-Refl ective Dimension ...... 235 Th e Ideational and Existential Dimension ...... 235 Th e Spirituality Dimension ...... 236 Th e Relatedness of the Five Categories – Mutual Interpenetration? ...... 237 A Focus on Organisational Foci over Individual Relevance ...... 239 Th e Signifi cance of Socio-Relational Qualities and Spirituality ...... 240 Conclusion ...... 241

8. Are Transformational Commitments Formed? ...... 243 Dimension 1: Commitment to the Church’s Narrative ...... 245 Bellah on Sects – and the Nature of Transformational Commitment ...... 246 x contents

Individualistic or Ecclesial Models of Life? ...... 247 Free Church Languages – A Th eological Critique of Bellah’s Typology ...... 250 Dimension 2: Spirituality and Commitments to God ...... 252 Grace – From a Transactional to Transformational Relationship with God? ...... 252 Spirituality as a Generic Element of Transformational Commitment ...... 253 Dimension 3: Self-Transcendent Commitments to Others and the Other...... 254 Family Values, Relational Virtues, and Commitment to Signifi cant Others ...... 254 Friendliness and Hospitality Towards the Stranger ...... 255 Friendship beyond Transaction – Sharing a Public Good ...... 255 Th e Genesis of Caring and Serving Love - A Th eoretical Elaboration ...... 256 Social Relationships: Transformational, Transactional, and Functional ...... 258 Dimension 4: Commitment to the Social Welfare of the Context ...... 260 Social Responsibility and Service in the World ...... 260 A Neo-Protestant Work Ethic? ...... 261 Civic Virtues – Do Th ey Emerge? ...... 264 Th e Ethical Janus Face of the Performance Dynamics ...... 268 Transactional and Transformational Processes – Synergies and Tensions ...... 270 Transactional and Transformational Processes: Personal Sacrifi ces as a Recurring Th eme ...... 270 Callings and the Idea of ‘Dying to Self’ ...... 271 Summing up – Holistic Sets of Transformational Commitments ...... 272

9. Towards a Typology of Ecclesial Life Strategies ...... 275 Organisational Structures and Organisational Transformation ...... 275 Late Modernity and the Diffi culties of Maintaining a ‘Pure’ Church ...... 275 Th e Centred Free Church – a Combination of Hierarchy and Egalitarianism ...... 276 Th e Centred Free Church: An Orthodox or Traditional Castle? ...... 279 contents xi

Hillsong as a Partly Trans-Local Church ...... 281 Th e Shadow Side of the Centred Set – Th e Possibility of Spiritual Shopping ...... 282 Flexible Commitment Structures and Flexi-Orthodoxy ...... 283 Th e Process of Commitment and Modes of Identifi cation...... 284 Pre-Stage and Context: Initiating Concerns and Preferences ...... 284 Initiating Personal Concerns – Crises and Callings ...... 285 Stage One: Encounter, Friendly Interaction and Inner Conversation ...... 286 Margaret Archer’s Typology of Life Strategies and Modes of the Inner Conversation ...... 287 Stage Two: Commitment: Conversion, Rededication, or Intensifi cation...... 294 Stage Th ree: Consequences – Transformations ...... 296 Towards a Typology of Transformational Ecclesial Life Strategies ...... 297 From Tourists to Ecclesial Pilgrims – a Continuum of Life Strategies ...... 297 Th e Ecclesial Communalist ...... 300 Th e Th eo-Dramatic Entrepreneur ...... 302 Th e Spirit-Led Servant ...... 303 Th e Truth Seeker ...... 305 Th e Meta-Th inking Life Artist ...... 305 Th e Typology and Other Comparative Findings ...... 307 Th e Two Churches and the National Contexts ...... 307 Gender ...... 308 Possible Diff erence between ‘Traditionalists’ and New Converts ...... 309 Conclusion ...... 309

10. Summary and Conclusions ...... 311 Identifi cation ...... 311 Transformational Commitments and Life Strategies ...... 313

11. Rethinking Transformational Leadership and Participation ...... 317 Refl ections on the Moral Quandary of Transformational Leadership ...... 317 Structure Revisited – A Perspective on Power ...... 322 Refl ective Space as Condition for Authentic Transformational Commitment ...... 324 xii contents

Towards a System Dynamic Model of Ecclesial Leadership ...... 328 Existential Dramatic and Th eo-Dramatic Leadership ...... 328 Practice Dynamic Leadership – ‘Organizing for Eff ective and Aesthetic Execution’ ...... 329 Hosting Transformation - Indirect and Direct Relational Leadership ...... 330 Beyond Secular Leadership Th eory – Integrating Spirituality ...... 334 Leadership as Integrative Action – Refl ection in the Spirit ...... 335 Questions About Leadership and Structure ...... 337 Th eological Leadership as Critical and Th eo-Dramatic Contextualisation ...... 337 Th e Model, Existing Leadership Th eory, and Further Studies ...... 338 A Final Word on Further Application ...... 339

Appendix A: Epistomological Issues: Th eology, Critical Realism and the Social Sciences ...... 341 Hermeneutics within a Critical Realist Epistemology ...... 342 A Participative Hermeneutics ...... 347

Appendix B: Methods and Material ...... 351 Th e Primary Method: Semi-Structured Interviews ...... 351 Designing and performing the Interviews ...... 253 Supplementary Methods: Micro-Ethnography ...... 354 A Note on Qualitative Research as Process ...... 356 Methods of Data Analyses ...... 357 A Note on Participant Observation and Double Hermeneutics ...... 359 Ethical Issues ...... 362 Validity and Reliability ...... 363 A Note on Internal and External Generalisability ...... 369 Validity and Ethnographic Storytelling ...... 371

Bibliography and References ...... 373 Index ...... 383 ABBREVIATIONS

AOG Assemblies of God CD Compact Disc Ch. Chapter Ed(s). Editor, edited by, editors Edn. Edition et. al and others LFE Life for everyone PhD Doctor of Philosophy TNIV Today’s New International Version (Bible) Transl. Translated by LIST OF FIGURES AND TABLES

Figures

1. Group and grid ...... 21 2 Levels of commitment in Hillsong ...... 63 3. Organisational identifi cation foci ...... 211 4. Personal integration identifi cation ...... 232 5. Organisational identifi cation and personal integration ...... 233 6. Worship – as a multi-dimensional practice ...... 238 7. Identifi cation with organisational foci ...... 240 8. Ideational identifi cation ...... 246 9. Sources of love as care and service ...... 258 10. Th e centred late modern Free Church ...... 280 11. Stages of identifi cation...... 296 12. Transformational ecclesial leadership ...... 336 13. Stages and positions in theological research ...... 348 14. Th e process of analysis ...... 359

Tables

1. Attendances in Pinsekirken from 1999 to 2005 ...... 37 2. Other stories from Copenhagen ...... 121 3. Other stories from London ...... 171 4. McAdams’s typology of redemptive stories ...... 226 5. Gender ...... 352 6. Religious background ...... 352 7. Overview of important events studied by participant observation ...... 355 8. Validity and the process of analysis ...... 372 PREFACE

Th is monograph is a slightly revised version of my doctoral thesis enti- tled; ‘Ecclesial identifi cation beyond transactional individualism’. Th e thesis was submitted to Th e Norwegian School of Th eology in Norway, and successfully defended in December 2009. Th is inter-disciplinary study examines life strategies in the context of growing churches in the secularized habitat of Western Europe and has a twofold purpose. Firstly, it is a descriptive work that seeks to contribute to both social scientifi c and theological discourses on why Pentecostal and Charismatic forms of religion may thrive in the late modern world. Th e study draws on theory from critical realist sociology, organisational psychology as well as moral philosophy and narrative psychology and may hopefully be an interesting dialogue partner beyond the borders of traditional practical theology. Secondly, I hope that this work might inspire refl ective practitioners, and in particular leaders in churches and non-profi t organisations, to rethink their models of how transformational leadership might educate people for the common good. Both groups of readers should note however, that I am not off ering a complete treatise on how Hillsong in London and Pinsekirken in Copenhagen, are functioning as organisations. Both a ‘functionalist’ and a ‘critical’ study of these churches are beyond the scope of this study, although it presents material that may contribute to further research. Th is study is primarily an inquiry of individual life strategies and of how individuals in several ways relate to their ecclesial contexts. As such the book may also be helpful to everyone who refl ects on how they should relate to late modern churches in general and their own church in particular. For this reason, I have also tried to make the study more accessible by providing, in chapter one, a suggestion on how this study could be read. Th us, it is my hope that this book will be benefi cial to both researchers and practitioners in several fi elds. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Th is study has been made possible because a number of people have helped me along the way. Firstly, I am thankful to the editors of this series, Andrew Davies and William Kay who generously accepted this work into Brill’s canon of global Pentecostal and charismatic studies. Th anks also to Els Meyer and Synnøve av Rana, who have given substantial help in the process of turning the thesis into a book. Secondly, I wish to thank everyone who helped me fulfi l my doctoral study, which was undertaken with help from colleagues at Th e Oxford Centre for Missions studies, MF - Th e Norwegian School of Th eology and HLT - Th e Norwegian School of Leadership and Th eology. I am in particular indebted to my doctorvater Harald Hegstad for stimulating guidance and challenging discussions. I am also very grateful to my research assistant Silje Kvamme Bjørndal, who beyond technical and linguistic assistance also contributed with vital encouragement and fruitful theological input. Th e most essential support, on this at times exhausting journey of discovery, has nevertheless come from my family; my beloved wife Kara, my children Carl Magnus and Sara Kristina, my gracious father Magne and precious mother Kari. Th anks also to my former pastoral colleagues and fellow elders at the Filadelfi a Church in Oslo. I am in particular grateful to those who made the project possible by various forms of practical and economic support, in particular Egil Svartdahl, Håkon and Synnøve Jahr, Bergfi nn and Kristin Nysæther, Henrik and Anita Stensrud, Tore Dorg and Per Lund. I will also thank my former and present colleagues at HLT; Øystein Gjerme, Asle Ystebø, Øyvind Gaarder Andersen and Knut-Willy Sæther, Kai Tore Bakke, Truls Åkerlund, Bente Sandtorp, Geta Sigland and Tor Mikalsen. Th anks also to Gunnar Heiene, Sverre Dag Mogstad and Nils Aksel Røsæg, who contributed to this study at MF - Th e Norwegian School of theology. I am particularly grateful to Terje Hegertun for vital support in the fi nal stage of the PhD project. I am also grateful to other friends and colleagues that have served as important dialogue partners in the long process that led to this book. I cannot mention all, but thanks to Th omas Hoholm, Vegard Kolbjørnsrud, Joseph Castleburry, Ulrik Josefsson, Bjørn Olav Megard, Knud Jørgensen, Tormod Engelsviken, Jørn Lemvik, Jan Inge Jensen, xx acknowledgements

Jan-Olav Henriksen, Christer Berntzen and Scott Wilson. In particular, thanks to Rune and Anka Kransberg, Jostein and Britt Krogedal, and to Hans Christian and Marie Hektner for diff erent forms of practical help and support during the period of this study. Th anks also to Asgeir Føyen and Christian Ingebrigtsen for companionship and hospitality during my fi eldwork. Finally, I would like to express my deep gratitude to my generous respondents and the bighearted pastors, who allowed me to carry out this study; Jarle Tangstad and Gary Clarke. chapter one

INTRODUCING THE QUEST: WHY AND HOW TO READ THIS STUDY

Why Th is Study? – a Prologue

During my fi eldwork in London, I used to stroll along Oxford Street. As I was walking towards the corner of New Oxford Street and Charing Cross, to the sound of Amy Diamond’s hit song ‘What’s in it for me?’, I could not avoid noticing that I was being off ered several new identities. Th e Zara shop off ered me the chance to become far more fashionable, and Nike the possibility to become signifi cantly fi tter, whereas Hamley’s wonderful world of toys gave me a chance to become a cooler father. When I arrived at the corner I faced another interesting dilemma. If it was Saturday, I could turn left and buy a ticket to the vibrant musical, We Will Rock You, a tribute to the rock band Queen and to the fl amboyant vocalist Freddy Mercury – possibly a cultural icon of what sociologist Robert Bellah (2008 et al.) calls expressive individualism. Expressive individualism is a life strategy that fi nds meaning in the freedom to search for, discover, and express one’s authentic self. However, if it was a Sunday, the Dominion Th eatre would host the Hillsong church, meaning that I could visit a vibrant service that also would ‘rock’ me. Th is young congregation had grown from 200 to more than 6000 participants in less than six years. At the time of my fi eldwork, it was unclear to me whether this church represented an alternative to late modern individualism or whether its teaching on successful living simply represented another version of it – what Bellah calls utilitarian individualism. Samuel Kobia, the General Secretary of the World Council of Churches during my fi eldwork, accused the Hillsong church of promoting a religion of consumption with no appeal to authentic commitment (http:// www.religionnewsblog.com/13756/church-chief-blasts-megachurches). To become wiser and more enlightened, and possibly add some cultural capital to my self-identity, I could turn right at the crossroads and visit the excellent bookshops in Charing Cross Road. Th ere Zygmunt Bauman (1995), or perhaps Jean Baudrillard (2003), would tell me that my whole life is located in the theatre of the consumer game. In this 2 chapter one world, the winner is the game rather than the players, who are seduced and played by the game. Th e losers are those who lack the fi nancial resources to participate. Bellah and Bauman would agree that this game and the late modern world turn us into individualists, yet we are shaped by collective stories and images. Both scholars claim that human relationships to an increasing degree are, and are increasingly becoming, ‘until further notice – relations, based on a logic of exchange and mutual consumption’. Inspired by Bellah, recent research by Paul Heelas and Linda Woodhead (2005) goes as far as to suggest that we are facing a spiritual revolution in late modernity. Th is is leading to a decline in church attendance, and a growth in what Heelas calls ‘self spirituality’. Th e practical theologian and leadership theorist Robert Banks off ers a theological perspective on this process. He claims that covenantal relationships, understood as ‘binding two parties unconditionally for a particular purpose of length of time’, are steadily being replaced by ‘contractual relationships of limited duration, with built-in conditions’. He argues that this trend is noticeable, ‘even in marriage, friendships and church’ (Banks 2000, p. 15). Banks , Bellah , and Bauman diff er in their normative responses to this situation, even if they all care for the losers of the game. Bauman suggests that we should follow the altruistic ethical impulses that emerge in face-to-face relationships, but he is sceptical towards larger ‘monotheistic’ communities. On the contrary, Banks and Bellah see mid-size communities, such as churches, as moral resources for ethical engagement in the larger society. Somewhat simplifi ed, one might say that they encourage us to make what leadership theorist and organisational psychologist Bernard Bass (1985) might call ‘transformational commitments’; commitments that move beyond transactional exchange between individuals towards engagement for a higher purpose, or the common good.

Research Questions and Research Strategy

Based on my theological horizon, I share the latter notion, even though I also seek to listen to Bauman’s critique of ‘monotheistic’ communities. Th e purpose of this study is therefore to contribute to new or renewed understanding of why and how people identify with and commit to growing churches in the late modern context. By doing this I also hope to present an empirical basis for refl ections on how people can develop ethical life strategies, and on how leaders and churches may nurture introducing the quest 3 processes of transforming commitments orientated towards common goods. Th is leads to the following research questions:

• Why do people identify with late modern churches? • Does identifi cation lead to transformational ethical commitments?

Since there is a massive variety of growing late modern churches, and an almost incomprehensible multitude of possible research perspectives, this study will be delimited, both in terms of empirical focus, and in terms of academic context. In terms of topic, it will focus on the level of individual life strategies. Individuals will be considered ‘primary cases’, whereas two growing churches in a typical late moders context will be regarded as ‘context cases’. Th ese context cases are nevertheless important because they may inspire commitment to specifi c common goods. More specifi cally then, the key questions in this study are:

• Why do people identify with the churches in my study – in relation to their overall life strategy? • Does this process of identifi cation inspire self-transcendent and transformational commitments towards common goods, – and if so; toward what common goods?

In terms of academic context, this study is primarily located within the sub-movement of practical theology that Browning calls descriptive the- ology1. Practical theology is, in my view, called to enter into dialogue with all possible answers to a practical problem.2 Th is study will therefore engage in interdisciplinary dialogue, beginning from a primary or ‘fi rst horizon’ that is distinctively theological.3 Th e number of perspectives wil however, be delimited by the resources available, including the competence of the researcher.4 Th e purpose is to understand the

1 More specifi cally, this is a congregational study. Browning defi nes congregational studies as follows: …the careful historical, sociological and theological analyses of those ignored religious communities called congregations. (Browning 1996, pp. 2–3) 2 Th is suggestion may be motivated by the church’s mission, and the scriptural ideas that God has created humans with an impetus to search for understanding, seeking knowledge of all things. See Acts. 17, 26–27; 1. Cor. 2, 8 ff , see also Anderson 2001, pp. 32–33 and; McGrath 2004, p. 114. 3 Th e ‘fi rst horizon’ of this study is the Free Church tradition,3 more specifi cally the Pentecostal tradition. For this tradition, see Bloch Hoel 1956. A further presentation will be provided below. 4 Th e most important social scientifi c dialogue- partner, in terms of being ‘a point of departure’, is the sociological tradition that may be associated with Robert Bellah . 4 chapter one phenomenon of individual identifi cation and commitment within its wider context.5 For this reason I have chosen a case study design6. Following Robert Yin7, I will suggest that case studies are the most suit- able form of research when:

• Th ere is little or no control over events • Explanatory connections are sough • Relationships are complex • Th ere are no absolute boundaries between the phenomenon and the context

I have chosen to do a multiple case study to test whether my fi ndings could be replicated on the level of individuals and on the level of context cases.8 Th e primary strategy of this study is semi-structured interviews in which respondents refl ect actively on their own situation, yet supplementary methods are also employed. Th is study will therefore be a multi-method study. A thicker description of methods and material is provided in appendix B.

Th e Organisation of the Study – and How to Read it

Th e following presentation will be structured as follows. In chapter two, I will present important theories that I consider highly relevant for the study. It’s worth noticing however, that it is possibly to pass over this

In 1985, Bellah presented a groundbreaking study of individualism and commitment in America, in collaboration with Richard Madsen, William Sullivan, Ann Swidler and Steven Tipton (Bellah et al. 2008). Later on, this study has inspired slightly diff erent, yet elaborating studies, in both Britain and Denmark, evidently relevant for this study (Heelas and Woodhead 2005; Gundelach et al. 2008). My studies are, however, somewhat innovative in relation to this tradition since it also employs psychological theories of transformational leadership (Bass & Riggio 2006). A more comprehensive presentation of my dialogue partners will be provided in chapter 2. Th e epistemological questions that this dialogue provke are discussed in appendix A. 5 Th ere are diff erent kinds of case studies, see De Vaus 2001, pp. 219 ff . Th e goal of this study is not primarily to test a theory, but to understand a phenomenon and to explain the causal relationships creating it - with a modest ambition to develop new theory. 6 A somewhat simplifi ed defi nition of a case study is an investigation of a contemporary phenomenon within its real life context; in which multiple sources of evidence are used. Th is defi nition is indebted to Yin and to Askeland 2000, p. 93. 7 See Yin 2003, Ch.1. 8 Th e use of replication logic in case -studies has affi nity with the use of replications in multiple experiments, (Yin 2003, pp. 47–52). introducing the quest 5 chapter and go directly to the empirical presentation in chapter three. Th e reader who makes this choice can still use this chapter as a kind of reference chapter. In chapter three, I will present the two churches that I regard as ‘context cases’. It will include a short introduction to the churches’ histories, their formal organisational structure, and important practices. Th e main purpose of this presentation is to identify, retell, and analyse what might be called the churches’ commitment scripts. By commitment script I mean a story that provides a more or less clear description of what it means to identify with the church, in terms of self- roles and obligations. I will focus on two sets of questions in this presentation. Firstly, is it possible to identify key themes that also may function as key reasons or motivations for ecclesial participation? Secondly, how does the visional story of the church provide an interpretative repertoire for personal identifi cation, in terms of images of the church and the participant, and her or his religious and moral formation? Th e purpose of chapters four and fi ve is to present and analyse six individual cases in depth. Th ese chapters may be considered key chapters in terms of being a thick narrative description of stories that grounds the following theoretical constructions. In order to understand the later chapters, one should therefore study chapter four and fi ve carefully. Here several analytical foci will be introduced on an individual level. Th is includes reasons for identifying with the church, reports of new commitments or virtues, and the interpretative repertoires that provide a rationale for these commitments and virtues. It also includes an analyses of participation as a social infl uence process, in terms of how a given person’s inner conversation interacts with organisational variables. Finally, I will off er some refl ection on what this story of commitment says about the plot of the person’s life story and its relation to her account of life strategy. At the end of each chapter I off er tables that provide a short introduction to the 15 other respondents. Th e purpose of chapters six and seven is to off er a thick description of identifi cation themes, that, based on my analysis, appear as my respondents’ most signifi cant reasons for identifying with the organisation. Chapter six will present seven themes that describe organisational foci, and these can be classifi ed into four types of identifi cation. Chapter seven will analyse themes that describe personal commitment foci and how these may function as tools for creating a life plot and an integrated life strategy. Based on the fi ndings of these chapters I develop a model of organisational identifi cation, which will also be analysed using a few fi ndings from the semi-quantitative data. 6 chapter one

Th e purpose of chapter eight is to address the question of whether transformational commitments take place. Th is analysis draws on the fi ndings in chapters six and seven to engage in a three-stage analysis. Firstly, I will re-investigate the categories of identifi cation that I have developed in previous chapters in dialogue with transformational leadership theory. Secondly, I will also examine what kind of transformational commitments are made, in terms of commitment foci, and fi nally, I will investigate the social infl uence processes that seem to have nurtured such commitments. Chapter nine will provide a short overview of the church structures, and diff erent modes of identifi cation, in order to outline a typology of transformational life strategies that is based on the analyses in all preceding chapters. Chapter ten will summarise my fi ndings and conclusions. Finally, in chapter eleven, or the aft erword, I use my fi ndings on participant identifi cation to refl ect on ecclesial leadership within the larger context of late modernity. In comparison with the preceding chapter, this analysis will be more normative, taking the form of a theological engagement with leadership theory, and in particular theories of transformational leadership. It is an attempt to raise ‘phronetic’ and ethical questions, in order to stimulate action-refl ection. It will be based on the data and knowledge available, rather than an exhaustive systematic treatise. As such it might be considered as an unscientifi c, or provisional scientifi c, post-script that might be useful for practitioners. chapter two

THEORY: CONSULTING THE WISE

Th e Function and Use of Th eory in Th is Study

It is always diffi cult to locate presentation of theory in a qualitative research. Th e reason is, as Aagedal suggests (2003, pp. 71–72), that theories have several functions. Firstly, theory may function as premises, in the sense that research begins from theoretically grounded concepts and typologies. Secondly, theory can also be developed from the empirical material, and thus create a dialogue between initial theories and more empirically grounded theory. Finally, theories may function as unproved instruments of testing or comparison aft er a more empirically grounded analysis has been performed. In this study theory will be employed in all the three ways. Some theories, like Bernard Bass ’s distinction between transformational and transactional leadership and Robert Bellah ’s distinction between fi rst and second languages, and Free Church ecclesiology, serve as points of departure. However, none of these models are considered unquestionable, and for this reason they will serve as dialogue partners, during and aft er a more empirically grounded analysis. It is worth noticing that the selection of most of the other theories has taken place during the empirical analyses. Finally, it may be added that these theories provide perspectives on the larger socio-cultural context of this study, a context that is beyond the scope of this case study, but yet relevant for understanding both cases and context-cases. Th is chapter will nevertheless provide only a basic introduction to these theories, and more detailed fi ndings from previous research will therefore be presented as the analyses develops.

Pentecostal and Free Church Perspectives – the First Horizon

An organisation can be defi ned as ‘a grouping of people, structured on impersonal lines and set up to achieve specifi c objectives’ (Giddens 1997, p. 284). Th eologians will suggest that the church is a unique type of organisation. Th e Roman Catholic Cardinal Avery Dulles has suggested that one should use metaphorical language or images to 8 chapter two understand the church in a theologically adequate manner,1 and this study will also look for such metaphors in the empirical material. Th e church can also be viewed in both ontological and functional terms. Miroslav Volf (1998, pp. 128–130) suggests that according to the Free Church tradition, a church is constituted by (1) the saving and ecclesial constitutive activity of the Spirit of Christ, and (2) by the confession of faith and the commitment of the believers who gather in Jesus’ name (Matt. 18:19–20) in response to the Spirit’s activity. In other words, the church is ontologically constituted by its life in and with the Spirit or, if one likes, by its spirituality, which can be seen as participation in (relations of) the Triune God. Th e church then is defi ned by what it is, in terms of being in communion in the Holy Spirit, yet from this ontological identity a more functional identity follows (Newbigin 2006, p.136–140). Trinitarian spirituality expresses itself in certain practices, as it is sent to the world. By practice, I mean ‘complex social activities that pursue certain goods internal to the practices themselves’ (see MacIntyre 1985, p.187, see also Dykstra and Bass 2002, p. 20).2 I will stress that these also include an aff ective dimension. Steven Land (1993) and his colleague Cheryl Johns (1993) understand Pentecostal and Christian spirituality as a form of individual and communal action-refl ection, which seeks to integrate right belief (orthodoxy) and right practice (ortho-praxis), within ortho- pathy, which means right aff ections. Aff ections are both relational in relation to God and people, and dispositional in the sense of creating a person’s character or lasting moods and motivations. Th us, they are ‘belief-shaped’, praxis-orientated, and characteristic of a person over time (Land 1993, pp. 43–44). In addition to the narrative of creation, fall, redemption, and consum- mation, which Pentecostals share with other Trinitarian Christians, early Pentecostalism was driven by a specifi c vision of a Spirit-empowered church. Th e background of this particular story is the biblical drama of redemption. Th e fi rst ecclesial response to God’s love, according to Land, is gratitude expressed in the practice of worship. Th e second is to love other humans with the compassion of Jesus, ‘to be moved to others as he

1 I fi nd the application of images useful because they help us to understand that the church is a mystery, apprehended ‘not simply by the mind, but by imagination, the heart, or properly by the whole man’. At the same time Dulles maintains that terms like ‘the People of God’ and ‘Body of Christ’ in their application are more than ‘mere metaphors’; there is also an element of realism (Dulles 2002). 2 It is worth noticing that Bass and Dykstra (2002, pp. 21 ff ) go on to qualify Christian practices in relation to God. theory: consulting the wise 9 was’, yet this love also expresses itself as prayerful longing for God’s kingdom, which will bring God’s shalom to human society. Finally, the church is called, sent, and empowered by the Holy Spirit to engage in courageous witnessing to God’s acts, to the ends of the earth, and to the end of time. However, since the church lives between the already and not yet of God’s redemptive rule, it will fi nd itself in tension with man’s sinful nature, and with demonic powers and structures (Land 1993). Th e church then is seen as called to commit to God’s vision of humanity and a transformed world. It follows that this version of the Free Church tradition pursues three theologically defi ned goods that are sought to be realised through the church; the glorifi cation of God, the shalom of the community, and the salvation of the individual. Overall, I see missional practices that seek to realise these goods as a form of Th eo- dramatic participation, in the sense of participation in the drama or Story of God (see also Land 1993, p 71). With Volf and Land, one might also suggest that this is participation in the divine relations of the Trinity as they unfold in history (see also Land 1993, p. 200). Th is minimal ecclesiology is the theological ‘fi rst horizon’ of this study, the starting point for dialogue with other horizons and academic disciplines. Th is study focuses primarily on one of these theologically defi ned goods; the shalom of the ecclesia, and its contribution to the shalom of the wider community. What is lacking, or at least unclear, in Land’s description of the church is the picture of the church as an institution. Th is conception might be rendered as systematic theologically incomplete, and create a sociological problem to which I must return, since churches unavoidably have some form of visible social structures. On the other hand, Land’s description is relatively adequate as a historical description, since Pentecostal Spirituality has appeared in and through diff erent organisational structures. In this study, which is basically descriptive, I will therefore study what appear to be two diff erent Free Church structures. Pinsekirken belongs to the Scandinavian Pentecostal tradition. It is Congregationalist in the sense that it sees every local church as independent and autonomous. It also contends that the presence of Christ in the Spirit is mediated not primarily through ordained ministers, but through the whole congregation. In practice this means that the whole church elects and appoints elders and pastors, who nevertheless are given authority to lead the church collectively. As such it has much in common with what Wayne Grudem calls Plural Local Elders’ congregationalism (Grudem 1994, pp. 932–935). Th e pastor is considered as a fi rst among equals, among the elders. However, in terms of operational leadership, the 10 chapter two senior pastor in Pinsekirken had been given a signifi cant level of authority at the time of my fi eldwork. He did not, however, elect the elders, nor did he set his own salary or ‘hire or fi re himself’. Th e second tradition is that of the Australian Assemblies of God, which in recent years has undergone what David Cartledge (2000) calls an apostolic revolution, moving away from traditional plural elder congregationalism, to a model led by the fi ve ‘ministry gift s’ that are described in Eph. 4:11–12. In practice, this means that more authority is invested in the pastor who elects a board of elders, and then leads the church through a team of pastors or ministry gift s (see Clift on 2005).3 It is worth noticing that the purpose of this study is not to give a normative theological analysis of these models. Th e aim is rather to understand whether, and possibly how, diff erent struc tures condition processes of commitment and identifi cation with the churches.

Th e Late Modern Person – Psychological and Sociological Views

Robert Bellah ’s Typology of Late Modern Languages Robert Bellah sees ‘individualisms’ primarily as languages, or what I will defi ne as interpretative repertoires that give shape to ‘modes of self- hood’. Although Bellah focuses on culture and language, he also views modernity as a complex socio-cultural whole. Th e great project of modernity, according to Bellah, is ‘the leap into freedom’ (Bellah 2006h, p. 458). Th is project began with the protestant reformers who claimed that individuals could relate directly to God without any mediation from the church. Bellah fi nds the seed of ‘modern individualism’ in the core of this ‘protestant code’: the belief in the sacredness of conscience, and of each individual. He observes that in Western culture all individual rights have grown out from this idea (Bellah 2006h, pp. 458–459). Following Jürgen Habermas (1987), Bellah (2006b, pp. 107–109) makes an important distinction between ‘life worlds’ and ‘systems’. In a somewhat simplifi ed way, one might say that the life world is the realm of mutual understanding and meaningful relationships, including

3 Unlike other models of single-elder congregationalism (Grudem 1994, pp. 928– 930), the congregational meeting has at most ‘consultative’ power. theory: consulting the wise 11 family, local communities, religious groups and, in complex societies, public discourse. Systems, on the other hand, are organised through non-linguistic media, exemplifi ed by modern market capitalism and administrative systems in nation states. Modernisation, according to Habermas, involves two complementary processes: the rationalisation of the life world and the diff erentiation of the systems from the life world. Th e problem with diff erentiation is that the systems become autonomous to the degree that they are not longer anchored in the moral universe of the life world; instead they seek to subordinate the life world to forms of ‘functionalist reason’, meaning that concerns for effi ciency, power, and profi t invade the moral realm. Modernity, then, is a mixed blessing to the life world, according to Habermas and Bellah . On the one hand it has introduced an emancipat- ing discourse ‘free from censorship’, but on the other hand it has introduced forces that threaten to tyrannise the human mind with technological-instrumental rationality. Bellah also sees this process as connected to the growing infl uence of forms of individualisms that recast social relationships into ‘exchange relationships’. From a study of individualism and commitment in the American middle class, published in 1985, 1996, and 2008 under the title ‘Habits of the Heart’, Bellah and his colleagues developed a typology of individualisms. Th is typology has later proved its usefulness in Paul Heelas and Linda Woodhead’s (2005), studies of religion in Britain and in a recent study of ‘Danish mentalities’ undertaken by Gundelach, Raun Iversen and Warburg (2008). In their study, Bellah and his colleagues (2008, p. 334) originally identifi ed four kinds of ‘individualisms’, all sharing the basic belief in the dignity and ‘sacredness’ of the individual. However, only two of these qualify as forms of ‘individualism’ in a more narrow sense, more specifi - cally the languages of utilitarian and expressive utilitarianism. Th ese ‘fi rst languages’ perceive the individual as the primary reality, whereas society is conceived as a second-order artifi cial construct.

Utilitarian Individualism Utilitarian individualism has its philosophical roots in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (Bellah 2008 et al., pp. 32–33). It has affi nity to a basically economic understanding of human existence, and views human life as an eff ort by individuals to maximise their self-interest relative to their given ends. Society is seen as raising a ‘contract’, which 12 chapter two the individual enters into in order to advance his self-interest and protect his property. However, for the utilitarian individualist, ethics is primarily understood in terms of procedures of fair exchange (between self-maximising individuals), and freedom is understood as freedom to pursue one’s interests (Bellah 2006e, p. 268). Th e ‘utilitarian self’ then, according Steve Tipton, asks: What do I want? Or, what are my interests? (quoted in Woodhead and Heelas 2000, p. 369). His answer to this fi rst question then defi nes ‘goodness of consequence’. Th e realisations of these interests are oft en referred to as success by the utilitarian individualist.

Expressive Individualism What Bellah calls expressive individualism has its roots in the Romanticism of the early nineteenth century, and arose in opposition to the utilitarian life mode. It represents a search for a deep understanding of what it means to be ‘an authentic self’ or ‘a whole person’. In its classical ‘romantic form’, it holds that each person has a unique core of feelings and intuitions that should unfold or be expressed (Bellah 2008 et al., p. 334). Heelas and Woodhead suggest that expressive individualists go ‘deeper’ in their catering for themselves, and the search for subjective wellbeing includes a quest for authenticity, creativity, ‘personal growth’, meaningful relationships, and the experience of harmony or holism. Expressive individualism may also take religious forms, in the shape of ‘alternative religion’, or what Heelas and Woodhead call ‘self spirituality’ or ‘spiritualities of life’. Th e common determinant of these spiritualities is that they follow the rationality of the ‘subjective turn’, in terms of having the courage to become one’s own authority (Heelas and Woodhead 2005, p. 4). Expressive individualism suggests that love for others may follow from love for oneself, believing that journeys of selfh ood may benefi t society and the eco-system as well. Th is ethics can be described critically in the words of Charles Taylor (1991) as ‘an ethics of authenticity’. I suggest it has two components. Firstly, it thinks of an action as morally right if one acts in any given situation in a way that fully expresses oneself, specifi cally one’s inner feelings and one’s experience of the situation (Heelas and Woodhead 2000, p. 370). Secondly, it may include what Bellah and Tipton (Bellah 2008 et al., pp. 121, 128–130) call ‘therapeutic contractualism’. …the sharing of feelings with somebody that in turn responds similarly. Th us sharing of feelings between similar, authentic, expressive theory: consulting the wise 13

selves – selves who to feel complete do not need others and do not rely on others to defi ne their own standards or desires – become the basis for the therapeutic ideal of love. It might be worth noticing that Paul Heelas and Linda Woodhead see expressive individualism as a kind of ‘relational individualism’, thus going further than Bellah in affi rming the ethics of this life mode as a moral of mutual care. Th ey also propose, following Carol Gilligan (1982), that women tend to be more concerned about the subjective well being of others, and it follows that more women are more inclined to ‘choose’ this mode of selfh ood (Heelas and Woodhead 2005, pp. 99–102). Consequently, practitioners of this form of religion prefer (formally) relatively ‘loose’ and egalitarian forms of organisation, such as help groups or courses with limited duration.

Th e Alternative: Second Languages and Communitarian Life Strategies Th e alternative to individualism, according Bellah , is what he calls ‘second languages’. Th ese languages are dependent upon what Bellah, inspired by MacIntyre , calls communities of memory (2008, p. 309; see also 2006d, p. 217). Th us, to some degree, second languages may be associated with communitarian philosophies that see the formation of the moral self as depending upon good communal relations beyond the ‘contractual’ (Bellah 2006d, pp. 217–218). It is worth noticing that Bellah distances himself from versions of ‘communitarianism’ that seek solutions to all social problems on the meso-level:4 Neither ‘family values’ nor ‘community’ alone will solve the problems of modern society. Only a thoroughgoing redirection of the whole modern project will make the future liveable for human beings. (Bellah 2006d, p. 219) In Habits of the heart (2008) Bellah and colleagues identifi ed two second languages, roughly grouped under the labels of the ‘republican’ and the ‘biblical’ tradition. Th ese traditions divert from the individual languages that were presented above, primarily in their perception of society as being as ontologically real as individuals. Th is leads to an understanding of the ‘common good’ as that which benefi ts society or a smaller community as a whole, implying that individuals may have duties and obligations towards society beyond their (generated) self-interest.

4 See also Bellah 1991. 14 chapter two

Th e common good can, according to Bellah, be understood as forms of distributive social justice and interpersonal trust that lead to ‘public happiness’: In the individualist tradition, the public good is usually identifi ed with the sum of private benefi ts. In the republican tradition, the public good is that which benefi ts society as a whole and leads to what the founders of the American republic called public happiness. It includes everything from adequate public facilities to the trust and civic friendship that make public life something to be enjoyed rather than feared. Also called the common good. (Bellah 2008 et al., p. 335) Bellah suggests that authentic communities should be diff erentiated from life-style enclaves. One can identify at least three criteria of an authentic community (Bellah 2008 et al., pp. 153–155):

1. Authentic communities have a history and a tradition. Traditions provide patterns of rationality, understanding and evaluations that a community has worked out over time. 2. Th ese stories initiate shared practices orientated towards ends that are perceived as ethically goods ‘in themselves’, and not pursued for their instrumental utility. 3. It refers to a group of socially interdependent people that moves towards a common future through discussion and decision- making.

Th ese communities promote a narrative horizon that describes the moral life, in relation to the common good of one’s community (or communities) and its related practices. Such a narrative may entail deontological principles (duties towards fi nal ethical ends) and consequential (utility) evaluations. It is worth noticing that Bellah questions whether all late modern churches actually function as authentic communities. He fears that many attendees commit according to the doctrine of what he calls ‘fl exi-doxy’. ‘Flexidoxy’ means ‘commitment only as long as it meets my needs’ (Bellah 2006d, p. 219). Such weak commitment cannot, according to Bellah, build strong communities or provide robust meaning for individuals. Th e best alternative is not fundamentalism, according to Bellah, but what he calls a critical orthodoxy that approaches religious symbols with a kind of second naiveté, combining forms of critical refl ectivity with a basic devotion to sacred symbols and communities. theory: consulting the wise 15

Zygmunt Bauman on Consumerism and Ethics in Liquid Modernity Zygmunt Bauman ’s (2000) sociological work raises the question of whether a liquid type of consumer individualism is emerging in the late modern context. He proposes that we now live in a ‘liquid modernity’, shaped by the post-industrial transition from ‘production to consumption’, implying that ‘individuals now primarily defi ne their identity in terms of what they consume’. In this game, there are no fi xed points of reference for the individual, since both professional relationships and intimate partnerships follow the ‘until further notice rationality’ of relationships based on mutual use and consumption. Th is logic transforms interpersonal intimacy to ‘episodic’ or ‘liquid’ love (Bauman 2003, pp. 89–91). Th is mode of individualism is characterised by desires of consumption rather than production (e.g ‘I work in order to consume’), and a celebration of predominantly aesthetic and ‘episodic’ rather than ‘stable’ experiences of personal authenticity. Bauman presents a conception of post-modern personal identity that exists only as an ever-changing project. Th e problem of modernity, according to Bauman, was to construct an identity and to keep it solid and stable. Th e post-modern problem of identity, however, follows the ever-changing and non-fi nite images of quality of life (there is always more). Since the rules of the game change, the most reasonable life strategy is to change ‘with the game’. It follows that the hub of post-modern life strategy is not identity building, but the avoidance of being fi xed, thus turning ‘commitment avoidance’ into a key tactic (Bauman 1995, pp. 88–90). Bauman (2000) sees this as a problem because the poor are excluded from the late modern consumer games and he calls for moral commitment in the interpersonal encounter with the other, and goes far in affi rming the ‘post-modern’ proximity ethics of Løgstrøp, Levinas, and Vetlesen (Bauman 1993, Bauman 1995). Yet, he also provides several important critical perspectives on communities, beyond the ‘moral party of two’. He suggests that hierarchical power of ‘structures as well as the ideology of communities’ tends to substitute moral concern with an ethics of conventions and rules (Bauman 1995, pp. 55–59). He proposes that combinations of conventions and ritual-aesthetic practices can produce unhealthy forms of totalitarianism that restrain authentic ethical impulses (Bauman 1993, pp. 129–133). Th erefore, Bauman is sceptical 16 chapter two towards communities, and he is in particular sceptical of organisations that want to infl uence every aspect of life with one overarching truth (Bauman 1997, p. 210). Bauman (2001) nevertheless acknowledges that man needs both belonging and freedom. Th e life of ‘individuals’ must therefore be navi- gated between two equally unattractive extremes; belonging without freedom and freedom without belonging. Bauman’s solution is to accept a large degree of ambivalence, but he chooses sides; for him the ‘the last word’ belongs to freedom. He sees the post-modern condition as an opportunity for freedom, since it is a polytheistic reality where one can believe many things, meaning that one is not caught by one ‘universal consensus’ (Bauman 1997, pp. 199–201).

Personal Agency and the Socio-Cultural Context – Margaret Archer Th e relationship between languages and ‘modes of selfh ood’ in Bellah’s theory may be somewhat problematic. Bellah (2006a, p. 47) views ‘the self’ as ‘capable, within limits, of continual self-transformation’, yet he does not off er a well-developed framework for describing personal agency. Such a framework is, however, off ered by Margaret Archer (1988; 1995). She proposes a stratifi ed view of reality, in which distinctive properties and powers pertain sui generis to both structure and agents. In this model, structure and agents are inter-related yet analytically distinct entities. Th e interplay between them is left open to empirical analyses and may take the shape of either a transformation (morphogenetic) or reproduction of agents and structures.5 Th e process of agency in relation structures can be summarised as follows:

5 In this process people may transform themselves and their structural and cultural environments, in a triangular morphogenetic processTh is analysis proceeds by framing a fi eld of investigation in terms of a three-stage temporal sequence. First, there is (1) conditioning by all pre-existing conditions; here structure is given temporal analytical priority. (2) Th en there is social interaction in which agents try to achieve their goals using their resources and powers (that Archer calls their relatively autonomous emergent properties). It is worth noticing that the structural powers in this stage not only ‘condition action’; their powers are also mediated through the concrete inter-action of people, and thus depending on them. In this way Archer avoids reifi cation of the structures. (3) And fi nally, there are outcomes of this episode of interaction that may result in either ‘morphogenesis’ or ‘morphostasis’. Morphogenesis is structural transformation or elaboration of the conditions of actions, including the agents themselves, whereas morphostasis means structural reproduction. However, in both cases the outcome becomes the condition for (4) future action, and so on (see Archer 1995). theory: consulting the wise 17

1. Structural and cultural properties objectively shape the situations that agents confront6 in relation to – 2. Persons that defi ne their priorities of concerns subjectively – in relation to the natural, practical, and social realm of life. 3. Courses of action are produced as person make refl exive deliberations in the inner conversation.7 4. Courses of action may reproduce such structures and persons (morphostatis), or they may transform structures and persons (morphogenesis) and thus create a new ‘objective situation’.

Th is social philosophy cannot be discussed in depth in this study, yet hopefully sensitivity to the interplay of culture, structure, and agency will be demonstrated in the following analyses. At this point it is suffi - cient to say that man can be capable of refl ecting on society, and transcending the expectations of his social context, by refl exive deliberation. Th is implies that a person can make authentic self-transcendent commitments. Archer maintains that every person is involuntarily placed in the context of natural biological, social, and cultural structures. For this reason every person is also ‘condemned’ to adapt to three sets of concerns, pertaining to the natural, practical, and social realm. Th is calls for the formation of a life strategy in terms of defi ning and dovetailing one’s concerns, it also means developing concrete courses of action or projects, and establishing a set of long-term practices. Moreover, it calls for a prioritising of certain concerns, projects, and practices, over alternative strategies. Each person must arrive at some modus vivendi, or life strategy, by disengaging ultimate concerns from subordinate ones8 (Archer 2004a, 2007).

6 Th at is involuntarily, and the properies inter alia possess generative powers of con- straint and enablement. 7 Th ese constelations subjectively determine their practical projects in relation to their objective circumstances. 8 Personal identity then, is created in relation to one’s ultimate concerns, and the long-term commitments in relation to these concerns. It is worth noticing that Archer’s theory employs existentialist language. Ultimate concerns are a key concept in her theory of personal identity, which also is seen as an analysis of ‘human being in the world’ (Archer 2004a, p. 77). Harry Frankfurt’s ‘third philosophical question’, ‘what to care about the most’, seems to be the key existential question in Archer’s model (Frankfurt 1988, p. 80, see Archer 2004a, p. 74), since meaning is found in prioritising of concerns. Archer, being theologically informed, suggests that God’s love can be an ultimate concern that is shaping people in its image, because it produces what Frankfurt calls second order emotions, meaning that they become standards against which we assess our more ‘spontaneous’ fi rst order emotions (Archer 2004a, pp. 77–80). 18 chapter two

Dan P. McAdams ’ Model of Personality: Traits, Concerns and Narratives Other theorists, like Robert Bellah (2006, p. 10) and Anthony Giddens , suggest that late modern people answer existential questions about the meaning of existence, and create a personal identity, through narratives. Giddens defi nes personal identity in terms of a refl exive biography that also contributes to the person’s sense of trust and ‘ontological security in the world’. Following Charles Taylor, he observes that in order to have a sense of who we are, ‘we have to have a notion of “how we have become” and “where we are going” ’ (Giddens 1991, p. 54). Th e personality psychologist Dan P. McAdams (1993, 2006) combines the level of concerns described by Archer with the level of story described by Bellah and Giddens . He suggests that the human personality has three interrelated levels. Firstly, humans have a basic fundament of traits, grounded in their biological disposition and early childhood years.9 Th e second level is the adaptive level of personal concerns, which I consider compatible with Archer’s model since McAdams promotes a diversity view of human motivation, meaning that he does not accept a prefabri- cated hierarchy of human needs. Instead individuals may, as in Archer’s model, negotiate their personal hierarchy of concerns in dialogue with reality. Finally, McAdams also presents a narrative level where identity ultimately is shaped. Th is self-biography, which is created through one’s inner conversation, may or may not synthesise the synchronic and diachronic elements of the self into a more or less coherent identity. From research on hundreds of life stories, McAdams suggests that such narratives have several features in common. Th ey have themes and nuclear episodes that are interpreted in a larger ideological setting, such as the ‘fi rst and second languages’ presented above. Life stories also have imagery and ‘imagoes’ – the latter denoting ‘archetypical characters or idealised images of oneself’. Finally, they have endings that are particularly important for identity, since they may present either an integrating ‘redemptive commitment script’, or display a more disintegrated nuclear script. Plot is, according to the tradition from Aristotle (1996), the unifying organisation of a drama. It brings everything together and makes everything a whole by virtue of ‘a single action’. It may follow that plots are central to personal identity, because ‘emplotment’ may be seen as a way

9 Th is level will not be addressed in depth in this study, because of limited resources and competence. theory: consulting the wise 19 of organising stories into ‘a meaningful whole’ (Czarniawaska 2004, p. 7), and thus providing unity and purpose to one’s biography. McAdams (1993, pp. 50–51) suggests that personal life stories to some degree are ‘emplotted’ by ‘archetypical literary forms’. Life stories have an aff ective tone that could be interpreted through classic literary forms. Comic and romantic plots have an optimistic narrative tone deriving from a happy ending, whereas ironic or tragic plots have a pessimistic ending. I fi nd this typology useful, but not exhaustive. Christian life stories should in my view also be open to biblical typology.

Sherwood Lingenfelter ’s Typology of Social Games and Structures Th e anthropologist and missiologist Sherwood Lingenfelter (1992; 1996) suggests that social structures and power relationships can be described in terms of fi ve prototypical social environments and fi ve ‘corresponding social games’, distributed between two dimensions; group and grid.10 ‘Grid refers to the degree to which individuals are constrained in social relations by the elaboration of social roles and the regulation of role behaviour by explicitly defi ned rules and expectations’ (Lingenfelter 1996, p. 23). Churches characterised by high grid will invest authority primarily in professional clergy or ordained ministers, meaning that a few people are empowered to make decisions for others. Th ere will be a clearly defi ned hierarchy where power and resources are delegated from a governing board that also controls fi nances and human resources. Finally, pastors or elders govern in doctrine and practice, and adminis- ter the sacraments of the church. Churches characterised by low grid, in contrast, strongly emphasise the priesthood of all believers, and see every participant as infl uential in terms of her or his spiritual gift s. Th e church is seen primarily as a

10 Lingenfelter is a theologically informed anthropologist, who also has made important contributions to missiology (1996, 1998). Following Archer, Lingenfelter maintains that it is crucial to distinguish between the internal consistency of ideas, called the cultural system, on one side, and socio-cultural integration between cultural agents, on the other. Th is is a particularly important point to make for Lingenfelter, because his model draws heavily on the grid-group typology of Mary Douglas, who tends to ‘derive cultural and economic life from social structure’ (see Lingenfelter 1998, p. 217). Archer develops David Lockhead’s distinction between system integration, which refers to the internal relationships of parts of the social system, and social integration, which refers to integration between people. In Archer’s paradigm, one cannot defi ne a priori which variable will be the dominant one; this must be investigated empirically (see Archer 1988, pp. xv–xvi). 20 chapter two community of equals, and those who lead do so as teachers of Scripture, or as performers of spiritual gift s, oft en limited to a particular purpose or occasion. It follows that leaders will only be recognised as fi rst among equals, if they are publicly recognised at all. Most important decisions are made collectively, and leadership is performed in the form of coordination of resources through a network of infl uence or through a small hierarchy, rather than through a stable hierarchy that delegates power (Lingenfelter 1992, ch. 7). Group refers to the degree to which people value collective relationships with one another and defi nes those relationships in terms of insider/outsider (Lingenfelter 1996, p. 24). Churches characterised by a strong group orientation emphasise a shared commitment to a common heritage. Th ere are clear boundaries between members and non-members of the group. In some cases this will lead to the exclusion of dissidents, based on lack of commitment to uniform doctrines and practices. Long- term loyalty to the group is a key value, more important than personal interests or leadership. It follows that such churches prefer shared leadership, in terms of consensus and coordination, to the leadership of a singular minister. Pastoral authority then, is recognised only in connection with a strong bond of accountability to the church elders or to a denomination. Churches characterised by a weak group orientation are open; there is no membership, and no clear boundaries between insiders and outsiders. People take part in the church and its ministries primarily out of personal interests, and may leave at will. Individuals are free to manoeuvre to gain personal advantages in the church, and leaders are free to override corporate processes by their personal authority. People’s support for the leader is based on the help she or he is off ering them, on admiration of qualities or result, or on negotiation (Lingenfelter 1992, ch. 7). Th is produces four types of social environments, as well as the option of withdrawal that Lingenfelter calls the ‘hermit environment’ (Lingenfelter 1992, p. 30). Th e individualist environment combines low grid and weak group. It promotes the freedom of individuals and free competition for power, but people tend to gather around and grant power to ‘fl amboyant leaders’. Th e authoritarian environment combines high grid and weak group. It emphasises the power and authority of hierarchy, but sets limited constraints upon group accountability, meaning that people can tap into a defi ned hierarchy or bureaucracy, at will. Th e hierarchs or corporate environments combine high grid and strong theory: consulting the wise 21

Figure 1. Group and grid group, combining the authority of hierarchy with the accountability of the group. Here power tends to be delegated to experts who stand accountable to the group. Finally, the egalitarian or collective environment emphasises equal access to power and responsibility and strong group consensus for decisions. Here power is allocated to elders. Th ese environments are displayed in the model below:

Models of Transformational Leadership in Organisational Psychology Burns ’ and Bass ’ Models of Morally Transforming Leadership Above I have suggested that organisational structures and larger socio- cultural systems may have emergent properties, meaning that structures also exercise power. I see any socio-cultural system as an interplay between social power structures that distribute material resources and give shape to patterns of social relationships, and cultural systems, understood as shared interpretative repertoires that give shape to how people view, refl ect on, and talk about the world. Systems are both enabling and constraining in the sense that they enable some thoughts and actions, but constrain others. I see power as an aspect of both structure and agency. Th e power agents can be seen in the light of Bauman’s defi nition of power as ‘pursuing freely (my italics) chosen ends towards which our actions are orientated and of [sic] then commanding the necessary means to the pursuit of those ends’ (Bauman and May 2001, p. 62). Leadership can be seen as social infl uence processes that both use and create power in interplay with dynamic social structures that distribute power. According to Peter Northouse and Gary Yukl , there is no 22 chapter two consensus on how leadership should be defi ned in the social sciences.11 Nevertheless, Northouse suggests that at least four components are central to the phenomenon: a) Leadership is a process, b) leadership involves infl uence, c) leadership occurs in a group context, and d) leadership involves goal attainment. (Northouse 2007, p. 3) Of these, the third statement is the most problematic since leadership may transcend a ‘group context’. Gary Yukl also suggests a fruitful distinction between direct and indirect leadership. Direct leadership concerns what the leader does alone or in direct face-to-face interaction with others, whereas indirect leadership takes place through organisational programs and systems that are facilitated by the leader. Yukl and Leipsinger also suggest that leadership has three basic dimensions; task orientated, relations orientated, and change orientated behaviour (Yukl and Leipsinger 2004, pp. 14–15). Bernard Bass ’s (1985; Bass and Riggio 2006) theory of transformational leadership is built on James McGregor Burns ’ (1978) classical distinction between transforming and transactional leadership. Th is theory is interesting from the perspective of practical theology, and phronetic sociology for at least two reasons. Firstly, morality plays an important role in the theory. Peter G. Northouse (2007, p. 348) comments: Burns ’ perspective on leadership is unique in the sense that it makes ethics the central characteristics of the process. Secondly, this theory has, at least according to some commentators, moved to the ‘forefront of the fi eld of leadership studies in the last decades’ (Antonakis and House 2002, p. 4), it has also been received relatively well among practical theologians (e.g. Ford 1991, Banks and Ledbetter 2004, Osmer 2008) though it also has been criticised for lack of conceptual clarity (Banks and Ledbetter 2004; Yukl 2006; Northouse 2007). According to Burns (1978, p. 19), transactional leadership takes place when one person takes the initiative in making contact with the others for the purpose of an exchange of economic, political or psychological goods. Each part recognises the other as a person, but beyond this the relationship does not go. Th e bargainers have no enduring ‘higher purpose’ that holds them together. Transformational leadership occurs when

11 See Northouse 2007, pp. 2–5; Yukl and Leipsinger 2004, chapter 1; Yukl 2006. theory: consulting the wise 23 one (or more) person engages with others for mutual and continuing pursuit of a higher purpose. Th is kind of interaction raises leaders and followers to higher levels of moral commitment. However, unlike Burns, Bass argues that these modes of leadership are not opposites, but a continuum that is complementary rather than mutually exclusive. Bass also off ers a specifi c description of four basic components of transformational leadership, as well as three transactional processes. Inspirational motivation means that leaders inspire those around them by providing meaning, challenges, and enthusiasm, oft en in the form of a visionary narrative. Idealised infl uence has two components; the fi rst is the actual ideal behaviour of the leader, and the second is ‘attributed charisma’, meaning that the leader is perceived as an ethical role model and as a person who demonstrates extraordinary virtues and capabilities. Intellectual stimulation concerns how leaders stimulate their followers’ eff orts to be innovative and creative, by reframing problems. Finally, individualised consideration means that leaders pay special attention to individual diff erences and needs, and provide forms of coaching or mentoring. In transactional leadership, the leader exerts infl uence by making sali- ent the positive or negative consequences of employees’ or followers’ actions. Th is takes the form of contingent reward, or active or passive management by exception. Bass also identifi es laissez-faire leadership as a form of transactional leadership. Together, the conceptualisation of transactional and transformational constructs gives shape to a model of ‘full range leadership’ (Bass and Riggio 2006). It may be noted that diff erent researchers in the neo-charismatic school of leadership theory conceptualise the components of transformational leadership somewhat diff erently (Northouse 2007). Th is is, however, not a principal problem in relation to my study. Starting from the basic distinction between transactional and transformational processes, the main task of this study is to discover and conceptualise these relationships in terms of participant identifi cation, beginning from my respondents’ categories rather than from pre-shaped theoretical categories describing leadership behaviour. An important development in organisational psychology has been the recognition that commitment can be directed towards various targets, or foci of relevance. Social foci may include the organisation, the leader, the team, the leader, the customer, and others. Meyer suggests the following defi nition of commitment: ‘Commitment is the force that binds an individual to a course of action that is of relevance to a particular 24 chapter two target’ (Meyer, Vanderberghe and Becker 2004, pp. 993–994). Th e term ‘commitment’ then, is generally reserved for actions that have relatively long-term implications, or at least a long-term focus. Th is is also the way commitment will be understood in this study, although I may substitute ‘force’ with both ‘causes’ and ‘reasons’. Meyer and Allen identify three types of organisational commitment that have very diff erent implications for behaviour. Aff ective commitment is aff ective attachment to the organisation, caused by identifi cation with the relevant target, a sense of value congruence, and active personal involvement. In my view, one should also add the concept of identifi cation to the concept of aff ective commitment. Aaron Cohen suggests that identifi cation means ‘adoption of the goals and values of the commitment objects as one’s own goals’, followed by a sense of affi liation and moral involvement (Cohen 2003, p. 84). Th is form of commitment can also, as Meyer suggests, be associated with transformational leadership.12 Normative commitment13 means a sense of obligation to remain committed, created through socialisation and the receipt of benefi ts that activates a need to reciprocate. Continuance commitment signifi es commitment conceived on the perceived reward of staying and the cost of leaving. Th e latter kind of attachment develops as a result of accumu- lated investments, or ‘side bets’, that would be lost if the individual dis- continues a course of action. Th e latter type will be interpreted in this study as a form of transactional commitment.

Congregational Studies

In the following I will present a survey of other selected research that is relevant to my topic. Th is study is a practical theological one, and for this reason I have principally chosen research from two fi elds: the fi eld of congregational studies and more eclectically from the fi eld of sociology of religion. Above, I have placed myself within the tradition inspired by Robert Bellah and his colleagues (Bellah 2008 et al.). Th is study is both

12 In relation to Bass ’s theory of leadership, Meyer and colleagues note that transformational leaders exert infl uence through two channels; satisfaction of personal needs, and commitment to social foci, whereas transactional leaders utilise only the former (Meyer et al. 2004, p. 1003). 13 Although these concepts will not play an important role in this study, I will suggest that continuance commitment may be interpreted as a form of transactional commitment, whereas normative commitment may be interpreted as both transformational and transactional (see Meyer et al. 2004). theory: consulting the wise 25 what Linda Woodhead calls an extrinsic congregational study, in the sense that it starts by investigating the respondents’ world, and an extrinsic study in the sense that it investigates the church in light of the broader good, the generation of social moral capital (Woodhead 2004, p. 2). For this reason it is more explicitly value-based than some anthropological and sociological studies that are presented below, and also somewhat more critical than ‘pure’ extrinsic church growth studies that mainly focus on numerical growth. Since my research primarily is located within the tradition of practical theology and congregational studies, I have limited the sociological material to relevant research done in Denmark and Britain. Th e works of Paul Heelas and Linda Woodhead (2000, 2005) can also be seen as a continuation of the work of Bellah and his colleagues, particularly in terms of analytical framework. My focus is somewhat narrower than these studies, since I focus on processes within two smaller contexts. Th e studies presented below parallel some aspects of my study, but none is a direct parallel. For this reason I have chosen to present them with some bias towards the aspects that are particularly relevant to my problem.

Dean Kelley ’s Hypothesis – ‘Strictness’ Makes Conservative Churches Grow Few congregational studies have focused on life strategies and reasons for commitment, yet many have focused on why churches grow. A classic sociological answer to the question of why people commit to growing conservative churches is provided by the American researcher Dean Kelley (1986). In the 1970s, Kelley suggested that conservative churches were growing because they did a better job than their liberal counterparts in terms of providing meaning. It might be worth noticing that ‘conservative’ in this sense does not refer to political orientation; instead it refers to churches that maintain support for traditional positions on both dogmatic and ethical propositions. Kelley suggested that because they off ered more ‘strict’ models of worship and obedience, involving personal costs (in terms of time and money), they were able to make life more meaningful in ultimate terms. Th is theory of meaning has been partly accepted by both theologically motivated (Wagner 1999) and sociological researchers (Stark and Finke 2000). One might interpret commitment to ‘strict religion’ as ‘strong commitment’ to a communitarian ethos, but this is not the only possible interpretation. Instead, Rodney Stark and Roger Finke off er a 26 chapter two basically economic model of religious life, which is rooted in rational choice theory. In this model religious commitment is understood in terms of ‘exchange’. Even if their model of rationality moves beyond a narrow model of a self-maximising actor, they still interpret ‘acts of commitment and altruistic behaviour’ in terms of cost-benefi t calculations. Th us, this kind of commitment is basically transactional, in Bass’s terms. Th erefore, my study diff ers from that of Stark and Finke in the sense that I start from a paradigm that in principle maintains transformational self-transcendent commitment as an empirical possibility.

Sociological Studies of Late Modern Congregations Kelley ’s theory of ‘strong’ or ‘strict’ churches has, however, been criticised by Heelas and Woodhead (2005, pp. 123–124), who claim that reli- gions of ‘experiential diff erence’ combine ‘normative strictness’ with ‘attention to reconstructing of inner lives’. Th is claim is based on research in Britain, but also on Donald Miller ’s (1999) study of ‘New Paradigm churches’, and Joseph Tamney’s (2002) study of ‘modernised traditional churches’ in North America. Th e churches in Miller’s study may be considered both conservative and charismatic, since they provided ‘highly demanding Bible teaching’, and affi rmed the importance of personal experiences of the gift s of the Holy Spirit. Miller nonetheless refused to call them fundamentalist since their teaching ands practices were ‘responsive to the therapeutic, individualistic, and anti-establishment themes of their context’ (Miller 1999, pp. 21–22). Tamney also suggests that the churches he studied accept a self- realisation ethos by encouraging therapeutic values and relationships (Tamney 2002, p. 232). Th is context sensitivity also included cultural expressions like contemporary music with bodily participation in worship, informal dress code, and tolerance of diff erent personal styles. Overall, these churches seem to accommodate to late modernity in a way that combines strict evangelical and more experiential, or therapeutic, themes (Heelas and Woodhead 2000, pp. 151–156). Another sociological work that seems relevant to this study is Stephen Hunt and Simon Coleman’s work on the globalisation of the so- called prosperity gospel.14 For my purpose, these studies are primarily

14 Th e term ‘prosperity gospel’ may be misleading, since the churches that teach this doctrine normally see this teaching as a part of, rather than as the centre of, the Christian story. Th is may at least apply to Coleman’s main case, Th e Word of Life in theory: consulting the wise 27 interesting since Coleman’s studies of ‘a prosperity church’ in Sweden, as well as Hunt’s studies in Britain, indicate that Charismatic Christians develop trans-local identities.

Th eologically Motivated Church Growth Research In 1999, a former professor of Church Growth at Fuller Th eological Seminary, Peter Wagner , used research on ‘New Paradigm’ and ‘other mega-churches’ to advance a theory of a new ‘apostolic reformation’. Although he is including elements of strict beliefs, cultural relevance, and Spirit experiences in his paradigm, Wagner emphasises a fourth element: the fact that these churches are pastor-led and oft en ‘planted’ by an entrepreneurial leader. Th e key element of the ‘New Apostolic Reformation’ is therefore, in sociological terms, a charismatic leader, or to use Wagner’s theological description: ‘Th e amount of spiritual authority delegated by the Holy Spirit to individuals’. Visionary and apostolic leadership then is, according to Wagner , the main reason why new churches grow. Interestingly, one of Wagner’s key empirical cases is the Australian Assemblies of God. One of the movement’s former leaders, David Cartledge (2000), views the movement’s tremendous growth as a result of a revolutionary transition from ‘inef- fective democratic congregationalism’ to ‘recognition of apostolic leadership and more eff ective structures’. However, it is worth noticing that recent research within the fi eld of church growth studies, in both Britain and the USA, suggests that quite diff erent ideas seem to gain infl uence among the leaders of the so-called Emerging Church movement.15

Sweden. I share Coleman’s assessment of these churches as a version of conservative charismatic Christianity (2008, ch. 1). 15 Th eir project is to understand the gospel in relation to the ‘coming of post modernity’. Eddie Gibbs and Ryan Bolger (2006) identify three key characteristics of so-called emerging churches. (1) Firstly, they are identifying with the life of Jesus as presented in narrative form in the gospels, rather than seeking to create ‘modern forms of propositional theology’. (2) Secondly, they attempt to transform the secular realm by focusing on everyday life, resisting the ‘modern’ distinction between the secular and the sacred that tended to spin the church around the Sunday service, and (3) thirdly, for this reason they seek to live ‘highly communal lives, preferring dialogue for monologue’Don Carson views the movement primarily as a protest against earlier forms of evangelical- ism, and particularly the ‘mega-church movements’, and the assumption that ‘bigger is better’. Instead, the leaders of this movement promote ideas of Christian authenticity and post-modern forms of communal Christianity, inspired by a rather eclectic (at least according to Carson) use of the Christian tradition. Th ey also protest against ‘hierarchical leadership’, which they perceive as a product of linear rather than systemic 28 chapter two

Shane Clift on ’s Study of the Australian Assemblies of God Th e growth of this movement and the ‘Hillsong phenomenon’ has received growing attention from both scholars and media. Th e most comprehensive scholarly work, to my knowledge, is Shane Clift on ’s doctoral dissertation on the ecclesiology of the Australian Assemblies of God. Th is study off ers both theological and sociological analyses of Australian Pentecostals in general and to some degree, Hillsong in particular. Clift on suggests that Australian Pentecostals have been masters of adapting to the rapid changes in Australian society over the last thirty years. He basically affi rms Cartledge’s thesis that the transference of power to the pastor on a local level, and to mega-church pastors on a national level, has improved organisational effi ciency and allowed the movement to adjust to changes in the Australian culture. It has created forms of worship and teaching that seem to communicate well with late modern people, and for this reason it is one of several variables that have contributed signifi cantly to the tremendous growth of the movement. Clift on suggests, however, that Hillsong is slightly drift ing from the Pentecostal tradition towards the evangelical mainstream. Th e Pente- costal doctrine of baptism in the Holy Spirit has in part been replaced by a more moderate theology, using the term ‘being fi lled’ with the Holy Spirit. He also suggests that the movement is in danger of syncretism, of appropriating the materialistic values of the cultural context. Th e eschatological horizon of the coming of Christ has likewise been downplayed and in part replaced by a Kingdom-now theology, emphasising blessing and prosperity in this age. Clift on also suggests that this transition has brought unintended consequences. He argues that the dominance of mega-church pastors, and the ‘prioritizing of practical over interpersonal values’ have in eff ect, more or less silenced the voices of congregations, small churches, and women (Clift on 2005, pp. 284–289).

Academic Articles on the Hillsong Church Because of Hillsong’s popularity and infl uence, there are several maga- zine and newspaper articles about the church, some of which will be addressed in the following analysis. At this point, I will focus on two articles that are of particular relevance to this study. Th e fi rst is a short post-modern thinking. For these reasons, the Fuller professor Eddie Gibbs and Ryan K. Bolger draw a relatively sharp line between ‘Emerging’ and ‘New Paradigm’ churches in their book, which was published in 2006. theory: consulting the wise 29 article written by the theological scholar Gordon Preece (2006). Although he gives praise to the implicit ‘creation theology’ in Hillsong’s teaching, he nevertheless suggests that the ‘prosperity churches’ in general ‘individualise’ the Old Testament message of material blessing, and that they fail to distinguish properly between ‘the already’ and ‘not yet’ dimensions of salvation. Preece’s fi rst objection is highly relevant to this study. Th e second is equally interesting, but will be included in this analysis only to the degree that it is relevant for people’s account of identifi cation and commitment. Secondly, the only social scientifi c article, to my knowledge, that focuses primarily on Hillsong and its growth is an article by John Connell, published in 2005. Th is article also sums up several popular articles. He off ers a variety of reasons why people attend the church. He observes that the church provides social capital, off ering supporting roles that traditionally were played by family and community groups. He suggests that the church also off ers answers to questions of moral meaning ‘over which other churches have been ambivalent and secular institutions have ignored’. He also sees a lot of accommodation to culture, in terms of hair and dress codes, and the profi le of the service as a ‘show’ and a ‘rock concert’. Connell seems to emphasise the latter, when he basically sees church attendance in Hillsong as a form of ‘consumption rather than commitment’: Membership is fl uid based on personal choice. Religion is fun, fashionable, and even trendy, it is about consumption rather than commitment. (Connell 2005, p. 330). Connell also makes several other critical remarks. Firstly, he suggests that the church is anti-intellectual, and that the mega-church movement represents a local-global form of ‘Americanisation’ and even ‘Disneyfi cation’. Secondly, he also suspects that the church is promoting right wing politics, even though he acknowledges that the church formally has a neutral stance in politics. Th irdly, Connell fi nds its alleged secrecy around money suspicious, and fi nally, he claims that the church is ‘tightly controlled’ by a group of ‘male elders’, even though it is ‘super- fi cially egalitarian’ at the same time.

A Final Note on Terminology – A ‘Late Modern’ or ‘Post-Modern’ World? Some of the authors above occasionally use the terms ‘postmodern’ and ‘postmodernity’. For this reason, I will comment shortly on the debate among both theologians and sociologists concerning whether we live 30 chapter two in a ‘post’ or ‘late’ modern world. Th is debate is diffi cult to conclude. Pro- visionally, I will use Anthony Giddens ’ term late modern. Giddens views the transition to a post-industrial society, or if one prefers, to ‘liquid modernity’, as a radical consequence of modernity rather than as a condition in sharp discontinuity with modernity.16 Basically I agree, but this does not mean that I reject any form of discontinuity between the fi rst and ‘second modernity’ – in particular at the level of epistemology.17

Summary: Key Concepts

Late Modernity and Late Modern Individualism Robert Bellah’s distinction between ‘fi rst and second languages’ is important in this study. Th e fi rst language of late modern individualisms can be defi ned as popular interpretative repertoires that share four common characteristics. (1) Firstly, they share a sociological world-view in which the individual is the primary reality, whereas community and society are a second-order construct. (2) Individualism celebrates the self-reliant individual, and promotes individual freedom over organisational belonging. (3) Th is may lead to a perception of social relationships primarily in terms of useful transaction, from the perspective of the individuals, based on an ethics of ‘fair exchange’. (4) Finally, this leads to a preference for what Bellah calls the ‘life-style enclave’.

Ecclesial Organisations, Second Languages, and Possible Transformational Commitments In contrast, ‘second languages’ (1) describe common or public goods that identify the social as ontologically real, and (2) see the formation of the moral self as depending upon participation in communal practices that (3) pursue ethical goods internal to those practices. (4) Finally, second languages encourage individuals to commit deliberately to such communities and practices. Th eologically, a church can be defi ned as an organised assembly of people, gathered in Jesus’ name, in response to God’s saving presence in

16 See Giddens 1990 and Giddens 1991, see also Carson 2005 for a theological defence of a similar position. 17 Several philosophical contributions (e.g. Lyotard 1984), and in particular Alasdair MacIntyre ’s Aft er Virtue (1984) have demonstrated how modern rationality and its story of progress through science, reason, and emancipation has failed to prove itself as a universal legitimising and morally potent meta-narrative. theory: consulting the wise 31 history. In a more interdisciplinary perspective, churches may be seen as particular forms of communities, set up to perform certain practices of moral commitment in the light of a horizon narrative. A moral practice is understood as a complex social activity that pursues certain moral goods internal to the practice itself.18 Following MacIntyre (1985, p. 191), I understand moral virtue as an acquired ‘human quality the possession and exercise of which tends to enable people to achieve’ such internal goods. Th ese broad and somewhat abstract conceptions of practices, and moral goods and virtues, may be seen as insuffi cient from a more normative theological perspective,19as well as from a more univer- salistic approach that seeks meta-criteria beyond traditions. Yet, for the purpose of descriptive of theology, such wide defi nitions may be fruitful, since they allow local and possibly new moral insights to appear before they are evaluated normatively. What this study set out to study, in particular, is if, how and to what degree churches off er ‘second languages’ and shared practices that are able to nurture transformational commitments that transcend fi rst- language life strategies. However, all theories that answer the question: ‘How ought we to live?’, by discerning right actions from wrong, good from evil and virtue from vice, will be seen as ethical theories, whereas enactment of such answers will be seen as moral or morality.20

Human Agency as Leadership and Participation Individual life strategies are modes of life, understood as the way people stage and manage their own biography and adapt adequately to the dialectics of local and global systems.21 Leadership is understood as a social infl uence process in which people are infl uencing others to reach an agreement on collective goals, and how to accomplish them. Yet, since

18 Th is defi nition follows Dykstra and Bass 2002, p. 20, who themselves are indebted to MacIntyre. For a longer defi nition, see MacIntyre 1985, p. 187, see also Bellah 2008 et al., p. 335. 19 See Milbank’s critique of MacIntyre (Milbank 2006, pp. 327–332). Above I have suggested that the shalom of society is a theologically defi ned moral good. To this one might add several goods and virtues. For instance, in the Judaeo-Christian tradition, peace cannot be separated from forms of justice that create public happiness for ‘all’. Love may be seen as a virtue that empowers people to strive towards both peace and justice, yet the scope of this study does not allow an extensive normative analysis of theologically defi ned moral goods or a debate on philosophical meta-criteria. 20 For these defi nitions of morals and ethics, I am indebted to McClendon 1986, p. 47. 21 For this defi nition I am indebted to Beck and Beck-Gernsheim’s defi nition of individualization (2002). 32 chapter two human beings potentially are capable of transforming agency, all participants in an organisation are capable of performing some form of social infl uence or leadership. Th e primary goal of this study is therefore to study organisational participation rather than organisational leadership in the more narrow sense.

Organisational Identifi cation and Ethically Transforming Leadership Organisational identifi cation may be understood as the more or less refl exive process in which the person adopts or experiences a kind of value congruence with organisational foci. Th is defi nition is based on the empirical fi ndings in this study. It transcends the idea of identifi cation as (a passive form of) adoption of goals. Value congruence in this sense means that some organisational values are recognised as ‘one’s own’ in the encounter with the organisation. Commitment can be defi ned as a force or decision that binds an individual to a course of action in relation to a particular target, over time. In this study, the distinction between transactional and transformational commitment is essential. Transactional commitment takes place when two or more parts commit to the exchange of economical, political, or psychological goods. Transformational ethical commitments may be qualifi ed by four criteria. (1) Transformational commitments are in general oriented towards conceptions of the common goods or purposes that are seen as moral goods in light of a horizon narrative or tradition. (2) Transformational commitments are not transactional or instrumental; they are value-rational in the sense that they emerge out of aff ective identifi cation with ethical goods internal to moral practices. (3) Trans- formational commitments lead to engagement in communal practices orientated towards those ethical goods. (4) Finally, transformational commitments should have a long-term horizon, and should nurture moral transformation over time. Th is study then, begins from a Pentecostal theological horizon, adhering to Bellah and his colleagues’ call for a conversion from late modern individualisms, towards passionate solidarity with larger social identities. Th is involves commitment to the common good of smaller face-to-face communities, and commitment to larger societal institutions that can provide distributive justice in society, and nurture forms of sustainable development at the level of global systems. I will not necessarily equate utilitarian or expressive modes of self- hood with sinful egoism. Th ese forms of identify formation and ethics may rather be viewed as insuffi cient. In my view, a phronetic theology of theory: consulting the wise 33 transformational leadership may accept certain compromises with a transactional ethics ‘in the world as it is’, in the process of creating ecclesial communities that affi rms individuality and ‘egoity’,22and yet transcends individualism by commitment to theologically defi ned common goods. An adequate practical theology must deal with these tensions in the attempt to understand and realise the biblical vision of the good community. It is to this large and diffi cult study that this study seeks to make a contribution.

22 For these concepts see Henriksen and Heiene (1998, pp. 64–66), who reject the idea that all self-care is sinful. chapter three

CONTEXTS – CHURCHES, CITIES AND NATIONS

Th e Purpose of this Chapter Th e purpose of this chapter is to introduce the two churches that I have defi ned as ‘context cases’ above. Th is presentation will begin with a short introduction to the churches’ national contexts. It will include a short introduction to the churches’ histories, their (formal) organisational structures, and the practices that were presented as important. Th e main purpose of this presentation is to introduce the churches’ commitment scripts. By commitment script I mean a script that provides a description of what it means to identify with the church in terms of personal commitments and obligations. It follows that I will focus on two sets of questions in this presentation. Firstly, is it possible to identify key themes that may also function as key reasons or motivations for ecclesial participation? Secondly, how does the visional story of the church provide interpretative repertoire for identifi cation, in terms of images of the church and the participant, and the relationship between them?

Pinsekirken in Copenhagen

Denmark as Religious Context Pinsekirken is located on the outskirts of central Copenhagen. Th e Danish capital is the largest metropolis in Scandinavia with a population of about 1.4 million people (

On the other hand, Lüchau ’s statistical study (2005) concludes that most Danes believe in God, or a higher spiritual power. He suggests that this number has been relatively stable since 1970, and that it has increased rather than decreased in recent decades.1 Gundelach et al. (2008) suggest that Danes have a sense of belonging to a culture with Christian roots. However, people’s understanding of ‘God’ is, at least to some degree, in transformation. Lüchau suggests that the number of people who believe in God as a spiritual power or impersonal force (‘åndelig kraft ’) is increasing the most.2 Th e interest in alternative spirituality was also manifested in Pinsekirken in 2001, when Pinsekirken registered 3000 new names aft er a week-long healing campaign with the American-Nigerian evangelist Charles Ndifon. Most of the new contacts, of which some were new converts, had been involved in ‘alternative’ beliefs and practices. In comparison, the national Pentecostal Movement in Denmark grew from 3400 members in 1974 to 5012 in 1997 (Jacobsen, Jacobsen and Ahonen 2002). ‘Pinsevekkelsen’ to which Pinsekirken belongs is therefore a small denomination according to offi cial statistics.3 However, the fact that Pinsekirken is attended by some who might possibly have converted from alternative beliefs to a more classic form of Christianity, might be of particular interest, since this seems to be ‘counter-revolutionary’, in relation to the hypothesis of Heelas and Woodhead. In terms of ethnicity, most of these have a Danish background, similar to most of the attendees in the two main services on Sundays.4

Th e History of Pinsekirken In 1992,5 four of Copenhagen’s old6 Pentecostal churches started the process of merging into one church, ‘Pinsekirken’ or ‘Copenhagen

1 In 2004, more than 50% of the men, and approximately 70% of the women claimed that they believed in God (Lüchau 2005). Against this, Zuckerman (2009, pp.55–56) claims that many of these in practice are ‘religiously uninvolved’. 2 In Denmark ‘alternative beliefs’ seem to fl ourish more among younger women (32 years and less) than among women over 45, see Lüchau 2005, pp. 36–40. 3 In comparison, the second largest religious community is Muslim, constituting approximately 3.7 per cent of the population (an estimated 210,000 persons), followed by communities of Catholics (35,000), Jehovah’s Witnesses (15,000), Jews (7000), and Baptists (5500) (http://www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/irf/2006/index.html). 4 Th ere is also a growing number of ethnic churches linking up with Pinsekirken, but these are doing their own services. 5 Th e following account builds on data from www.pinsekirken.dk, as well as data from my own fi eldwork. 6 Eben-Ezer, the oldest one, was founded in 1911. contexts – churches, cities and nations 37

Table 1. Attendances in Pinsekirken from 1999 to 2005 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 425 448 463 510 524 563 584

Pentecostal Church’. Th is process was led by Jarle Tangstad, a Norwegian- Danish pastor in his early forties. He describes his own formation as a leader in the Pentecostal movement as ‘training according to the John Wayne model’, meaning that one sends group of people with a helicopter out into the desert and leaves them. Th en ‘those who return become leaders, those who don’t, die’.7 Accordingly, he portrayed the time from 1993 to 1996 as such a desert time, in which ‘the old churches disintegrated’, and the leaders desper- ately had to try to ‘grow a new one fast enough to take over what was falling a part’. From 1997 onwards the church has experienced moderate church growth. Th e table below shows attendees in the main Sunday services from 1999 to 2005. Th e total number of attendees during a weekend (comparable to Hillsong’s fi gures) may be estimated at more than 1000 people.8 In 1997, the church succeeded in buying an old school building in central Copenhagen, containing 15,000 square metres distributed on seven fl oors. Th is building was recreated into Copenhagen Christian Culture Centre aft er two years with a massive voluntarily eff ort, and the collection of donations totalling 10 million Danish kroner. Th e culture centre incorporates a large variety of rooms and facilities, including a bookshop, a youth club, TV and radio studios, guest apartments, and a lunch restaurant named aft er Immanuel Kant, as well as a large 930-seat auditorium and several smaller auditoriums. Th e Pentecostal Church defi nes itself as a church in the Culture Centre. Th e purpose of the Culture Centre is to host a manifold of cultural expressions that do not ‘contradict’ the Jewish Christian tradition, whereas the task of the church in the Centre is exclusively to present the gospel of Jesus Christ as he is understood in the Christian tradition. Th us, the church has a dual identity, it is a church presenting the gospel, but it also runs a culture centre with a broader mission.

7 Th is, and other references to Tangstad in this chapter, are based on fi eldnotes. 8 Th is number includes attendees in the Childrens’ Church (130 on average in 2005, with 250 at its peak). Youth group (20 to 50), youth church and ethnic churches are not included. 38 chapter three

Historical Roots and Th eological Tradition Th e theological starting point of this journey is the Scandinavian Pentecostal tradition. However, one of the key narratives that circulated in several leadership meetings during my fi eldwork was about how the church was ‘breaking out of isolation’ in several respects. Th is also applied to its ecumenical relationships. Th e apostolic creed had become a part of the church’s self-presentation, and in 2001 the centre hosted the fi rst ecumenical event in Denmark, in which all Christian denominations were gathered under one roof.9

Leadership and Organisational Structure Th e organisational design of Pinsekirken refl ects the congregational and ‘democratic’ ideals of the classical Scandinavian Pentecostal movement. Th e church meeting, in which all members have an equal vote, elects elders and functions as a kind of general assembly. Tangstad describes this meeting as ‘an anchor’: Th e church meeting is the anchor. In a healthy church, if you have a church meeting, it’s not a detailed meeting. It’s the church meeting that delegates trust and authority to the leadership. Th e leadership is running that church in the daily aff airs; economic, business, people, and so on. But the church meeting is a general assembly.10 It follows that in most matters, authority is delegated to a board of elders that includes the senior pastor, which in turn delegates operational leadership to a team of pastors and a ‘management team’. Th e ideal of the church is therefore what Lingenfelter (see chapter two) calls the ‘egalitarian game’ played by Free Churches, however, in terms of operational leadership, the organisation may be considered a relatively small hierarchy. At the time of my fi eldwork, a team of fi ve pastors, of which one was a woman, assisted Tangstad. Th ere were also several others in his staff who performed important leadership tasks without being formally appointed as pastors. In accordance with the Scandinavian Pentecostal tradition, the status of elder and senior leader was reserved for men, but as we shall see, this

9 Although Pentecostalism’s historical scepticism to creeds is still mentioned, see . 10 Source: fi eld notes. contexts – churches, cities and nations 39 traditional belief was debated.11 At the time of my fi eldwork, only one of the fi ve co-pastors (who in principle are subordinated to the elders) was a woman. Th us, even though there was little explicit teaching on gender roles in the church during my fi eldwork, the church seemed to model a relatively traditional script when it came to the question of gender and senior leadership. However, Tangstad stated that he personally understood the Bible in a way that made him ready to welcome women into all leadership positions, including that of elders and that of the senior pastor, thus opening up for a process of change. Beyond the organisational centre, there are several ministries that report to one of the co-pastors. Th ese are structured in various and fl exible ways. An interesting example is the concept of small groups that have been restructured at least four times in the last ten years.12

Important Practices A Multitude of Activities and Groups It is somewhat more diffi cult to identify Pinsekirken’s most important practices because it is, and wants to be, a multi-generational and multiethnic church with many activities and departments. It provides a ‘mul- tidimensional’ senior ministry, a children ministry that runs a children’s church, and a youth department that runs its own youth services and youth events, in addition to contributing to the youth club in the Culture Centre. It hosts a local Christian television channel and an international Bible college, and includes several ‘ethnic sub churches’ with their own services. Overall, it facilitates many possibilities for ministry, and provides several courses for personal and spiritual development, such as the Alpha course. All of these seminars and events are described in three calendars; the ‘Church calendar’, the ‘Spirituality calendar’ and ‘the Culture calendar’. In the Pentecostal tradition the (two) Sunday services would normally be considered the arena ‘where the whole congregation meets’. To some degree this is still the case at least ‘in the thinking of its pastors’, although

11 For instance, in conversations with me, Tangstad was ready to go as far as welcoming female senior pastors and female elders. 12 Th e church had tried a model for planting ‘small churches’, the ‘Korean model’ of cell groups, and ‘the Singaporean model’ of multiplication groups, before they ended up with their own concept of ‘growth groups’. 40 chapter three they acknowledge that several members do not attend regularly on Sundays. Another practice, which is considered particularly important, is the small groups that were called ‘growth groups’ or ‘network groups’ during the time of my fi eldwork. Th e reason for the importance of these groups, according to Tangstad, is that it is not possible ‘to disciple’ people solely in large services.

Th e Service For a guest like me, the Sunday service in Pinsekirken begins in the foyer where one arrives at a welcome centre, near the entrance to the Kulturhallen (culture hall), which is the main auditorium. Th e Kulturhallen is a carefully designed, but quite modest, 930-seat hall, of which 350 seats are located in the gallery. At the time of my fi eldwork there were some paintings with religious motifs hanging on the walls, painted by professional artists. I will suggest that it looked more like a decorated conference centre than a traditional church. At the entrance one is greeted by a friendly usher or host, and sometimes accompanied into the service. At the beginning of the service, people are welcomed by one of the pastors or volunteer leaders who share a few pieces of information, oft en given in the form of a video-presentation. Th e congregation is then led in prayer and into a longer session of worship, in the form of corporate singing. Th e style of worship varies, from old hymns or revival songs, to more contemporary worship. Many of the traditional hymns are also rearranged into a more contemporary form. From observation, I will suggest that the music has an aff ective tone of joy and celebration. Th e fi rst service I attended was led by one of the pastor’s wife, and she began the service by saying ‘hallelujah’. Another service started with the song: ‘Fill the earth with worship’. For these reasons, I will suggest that the fi rst part of the service seems to take the form of a celebration. Several respondents to the quantitative survey wrote that they identifi ed with the church because of a ‘sense of joy’13 in the services. Th is is not surprising since ‘true joy’ is one of the church’s explicit values (LFE, p. 47) and the music played is celebratory, convivial, and joyful, or what music scholars who relate music to

13 Of the Danish respondents, 7.4% referred to a sense of joy as a reason for identifying with the church. In comparison only 0.6% identifi ed because of a sense of passion. contexts – churches, cities and nations 41 emotional responses might call an ‘Ionian’ mode of worship (Poloma 2003, pp. 48).14 Th is also applies to the music that accompanies baptisms and the celebration of the Lord’s Supper, which, in line with the Scandinavian Pentecostal tradition, is celebrated in the eleven o’clock service. How- ever, there is also an important element of devotion, and time where one can ‘yield to the Spirit’ accompanied by music that is more Lydian in the sense that it is ‘solemn, slow, plaintive’ (Poloma 2003, p. 48). Th e following song was sung in a Sunday evening service that was part of a healing campaign, before the preacher began his sermon: Lord, You’re beautiful Your face is all I seek For when your eyes are on this child Your grace abounds to me I want to take your word And shine it all around First help me just to live it, Lord And when I’m doing well Help me never to seek a crown For my reward is giving glory to you Lord, please light the fi re Th at once burned bright and clear Replace the lamp of my fi rst love Th at burns with holy fear I want to take your word And shine it all around During this Lydian song, the preacher, Charles Ndifon, as well as many of the attendees, lift ed their hands and closed their eyes. Other participants bowed their heads, entering into an intimate and internal ‘I – you’ dialogue with God. Seen in relation to the intimacy expressed in the text, it is possible to consider this form of worship as a form of ‘sacred love making’, as Miller and Poloma observe (Miller 1999, p. 87; Poloma 2003, p. 38). Yet in the context of a healing service, it also seemed to serve as a spiritual preparation, where people psychologically open themselves up to God and his actions.

14 Th is classifi cation follows Poloma’s use of Freeman’s application of the old Greek typology of the relationship between music and emotions, see Poloma 2003, pp. 48 ff . 42 chapter three

Th e off ering also normally takes place prior to the sermon and is introduced by a short talk. On a Sunday service the sermon normally lasts between 35 and 45 minutes, meaning that the sermon is the single element given the most time in the service. Tangstad, who did most of the preaching during the period of my fi eldwork, would enter the stage in contemporary clothes, but most oft en with a jacket and a tie. Th e teaching during this period was based on the Sermon on the Mount from Matthew’s gospel. Tangstad would add interesting anecdotes and humorous jokes to his sermons, but most of the time the sermons was a quite serious exposition of the text, in which he tried to apply Jesus’ sermon to the everyday life of his listeners. Aft er the sermon, there would normally be ‘an altar call’ and a subsequent opportunity to be prayed for by a ministry team. In this stage one would also expect to see charismatic gift s, such as healing or prophecy, manifested through the preacher or through some people on the ministry teams, but this would happen in an orderly and quite ‘relaxed’ way.

Th e Small Groups Th e small group I visited consisted of seven young adults, who were aged from their mid twenties to early thirties and were mixed in terms of ethnicity, in the sense that the group consisted of both Danes and immigrants with a Latin-American background. We met in the small apart- ment of one the participants, and were served coff ee and a light meal. Aft er a short introduction we chatted freely in dyads and triads for about half an hour before the leader introduced a learning dialogue, based on a biblical text. In the last half hour of the gathering, we divided into two groups and shared prayer requests and prayed for one another. I felt a strong sense of emotional warmth and care as I shared my request and was prayed for.

Th e Church’s ‘Commitment Script’ Traditionally, church membership has been linked to a believer’s baptism by immersion, and members have been expected to believe and behave in accordance with the church’s ‘oral tradition’. Ulrik Josefsson’s study has shown that in the Scandinavian Pentecostal tradition this has meant loyalty to a large number of ‘identity carrying’ beliefs, practices and attitudes, making it possible to draw a clear line between pure insiders and unclean outsiders (Josefsson 2005, pp. 242–247; 295–307). In the contexts – churches, cities and nations 43 last part of the church’s handbook one can fi nd the following commitment script: Th e word ‘church’ actually means ‘an assembly of people’. Th e Copenhagen Pentecostal Church consists of people who share the theology of the assembly, its values, vision and mission. A person may become a member when that person has personal faith in Jesus and has confi rmed this faith through baptism by immersion in water. (LFE, p. 58). Th e church’s membership criteria seemingly involve accepting the church’s theology and in particular its doctrine of baptism, the church’s values, vision, and mission. However, on the next page some further suggestions are added, though modifi ed through the auxiliary verb ‘may’. Beginning from a presentation of the church as a voluntary organisation, the handbook goes on to say: Th erefore, one may get involved in various teams and projects, where individuals serve with others, contributing gift s and talents. Th e individual also forms the fi nancial basis of the church, because the fi nances of the church are based on tithes and off erings, not on state aid. (LFE, p. 59). Th e frequent use of the term ‘individual’ in this passage, and others, clearly aims at encouraging personal responsibility for the welfare of the church in terms of contributing with time, talent, and money; preferably a tenth of one’s income.

Vision: Becoming a Church for the City – Waves of Life Transformation Th ese membership criteria were challenged and discussed during the time of my fi eldwork. However, they provide a fruitful starting point both for an exploration of the church’s ‘commitment script’ and of its ‘visional story’. Th e church handbook begins with a presentation of the church’s vision. Th e fi rst image that appears is the image of ‘waves of people experiencing life transformation’. In the following, this transformation is qualifi ed by four sentences; ‘people who experience life transformation through Jesus’ love’, ‘people with a life style based on the Bible’, ‘people who experience quality of life by living their calling’, and ‘people with life and energy to make diff erence to others’ (LFE, pp. 6–16). Th e leitmotif of ‘life transformation’ is developed further through the presentation of a fi ve-stage process, linked to ‘fi ve callings’ in the gospels. Th is vision is also summarised in the church’s mission statement, which reads: ‘We want to help people believe in Jesus Christ, and together develop in life and ministry’ (LFE, p. 19). 44 chapter three

Th e church’s visionary thinking also includes an element of size. Th e vision behind the initial fusion of the four Pentecostal churches was to become a church for the whole city. Th e leaders admit that this is a very ambitious long-term goal that sets a growth agenda for the church. Nonetheless, on the church website, Pastor Tangstad and his wife Merethe boldly invite the reader to join them on this ‘journey’ (www.pinsekirken.dk).

Life Transformation Th rough a Five-Stage Process Th e fi ve-stage process, which defi nes the church’s commitment script, is presented somewhat diff erently in diff erent documents. My presentation will therefore be a hermeneutical reconstruction, although it mainly follows the presentation provided in the church’s handbook. (1) Come and see Th e fi rst stage is initiated by Jesus’ calling to ‘come and see’. Th e church wants to facilitate this stage by inviting people into its everyday life and to shared ‘events and church services’ (LFE, p. 25). Events also refer to events in the ‘Culture Centre’. Th e culture calendar of the Culture Centre includes concerts with secular bands and orchestras; a diversity of courses and lectures including topics like pedagogy, square-dance, and Danish art and literature; and Christmas parties for children.15 Th is way of approaching and embracing all of life may also be linked to one of the church’s explicit values; ‘relevant service’. Relevance also means relevant forms of communication. Th e handbook says that the church ‘emphasises quality and service’ and this is demonstrated by what appears, from the aesthetic perspective of a layperson like myself, as excellent music and state of the art aesthetics and visual presentations (LFE, p. 39). It is also worth noticing that Tangstad’s vision of ‘embracing life’ also includes a theology of ‘honesty and transparency’ that allows paradoxes, and particularly paradoxes of weakness and strength. (2) Follow me In the book Livet er en gave (Life is a gift ), salvation seems to have three key dimensions. Firstly, it is grounded on God’s love, and on Jesus’

15 Th ese are some of the events that were presented in the Culture Calendar for autumn 2004. contexts – churches, cities and nations 45 vicarious death on the cross. Secondly, it is personal in the sense that it is a calling to an ‘I – You’ relationship’, and thirdly, it is a choice, making Jesus the ‘authority of one’s life’. Th is means that the pursuit of God’s will as it is expressed in the exemplary life of Jesus becomes ‘one’s fi rst priority’ (Tangstad 200616, pp. 63–69). (3) Come and be with me – serving in a fellowship Th is new relationship will lead the person to join the community of the church, or a small group (LFE, p. 29). Involving fellowship is another of the church’s values. In the church handbook, the third stage is described as the process of entering into service in the church. Th e church is presented as an organisation that ‘wants to be there for those who wish to live for something larger than themselves’ (LFE, p. 29). In this stage the person is encouraged to move from ‘attachment’ to service, and to begin to think of oneself as a co-worker of Jesus (Tangstad 2006, pp. 29; 81). In this context the Pentecost is introduced as a historical and theological event. Th e Spirit is seen as empowering, in the sense that it gives a manifold of spiritual gift s that enable people to be co-workers of Christ who make a diff erence in the world (LFE, p. 85). (4) Go to the world In the fourth stage the person becomes someone who invites others to reach others with the gospel. Th e church’s handbook reads: Jesus said: ‘Go’, because God’s love reaches out to everybody, and the Gospel is not to be limited to a particular culture or context. Th erefore, we wish to demonstrate the love of Jesus in words and action to people irre- spective of their life situation, culture or ethnic background. We want to do it individually and as a church, as well as in partnerships with others both locally and globally. (LFE, p. 31). Th is stage is inspired by what is called Th e Great Commission (Matt. 28:18–20), but it is also modelled on the day of Pentecost when the Spirit came upon the disciples and empowered them to become instruments for God’s mission in the world. Here the Christian is also seen as a representative of Christ or as an ambassador (Tangstad, 2006, pp. 85; 108–110).

16 Tangstad appears as the editor in the introduction, hence this work is cited as Tangstad 2006. 46 chapter three

(5) Abide in me A guiding idea in the book Life is a gift is the idea that the process of life transformation is never completed, at least in this lifetime. If one lives with Jesus, life may continue to spiral upwards,17 and one may become more devoted to and intimate with God. For this reason, ‘abide’ can be interpreted both as the last, but also as a kind of fundamental fi rst stage in the process. Th e idea of an upwards spiral sets the narrative tone for the book (Tangstad 2006, pp. 17–19).

Th e Church as an Organic Community of Spirit-Filled Disciples Th e church is primarily understood as an assembly of people who has chosen to follow Jesus. Th e church’s handbook reads: Th e people who worship make up the organism that gives warmth and strength and closeness. Because the church is dynamic, the organisation changes according to need and focus. New activities and functions appear while others are discontinued. (LFE, p. 57) Th is passage may provide further ecclesial suggestions. Th e church seems to be constituted as a worshipping, organic fellowship, for which the most important functions are worship and mutual ‘warmth and proximity’. Organisational and institutional forms, as well as ‘activities and practices’, seem to be secondary and dependent on these primary functions, and the ‘individual or corporate needs’ at hand. However, like the individual Christian, the church is also seen as a community of co-workers of Christ that is empowered by God’s spirit to fulfi l God’s mission in the world: ‘We want to be there for those who wish to live for something larger than themselves’. Jesus said come and be with me to develop in life and ministry. Th erefore we want to get involved together with those who want to invest their own resources in serving others. (Tangstad 2006, p. 29). Th us, the church is seen as ‘something larger than’ the individual. It is there for the welfare of others, and it is an important tool for divine mission; the evangelisation of the city and the world. A commitment to the church is a transformational commitment beyond a person’s own needs, and in this context the imagoe of an ambassador is used once in Life is a gift (Tangstad 2006, p. 109). In the church’s handbook, this responsibility is expanded to responsibility for the welfare of the city. In order to ‘make

17 Th e spiral is a kind of root-metaphor in the book, see Tangstad 2006. contexts – churches, cities and nations 47

Copenhagen a better city to live in’, the church and its members should ‘pay attention to the needs of others and endeavour to meet them’.18

A Contemporary Church Struggling to Maintain a Pentecostal Commitment Script Th is commitment script was challenged at the time of my visit. In the last week of my fi eldwork, I was invited to participate in a discussion in the pastoral team. Th e theme was the concept of membership. As we saw above, traditionally, in line with the Scandinavian Pentecostal tradition, church membership has been linked to a believer’s baptism by immersion. Members have also been expected to believe and behave in accordance with the church’s interpretation of the Bible. As I suggested above, this has in practice meant loyalty to several ‘identity carrying’ beliefs, practices, and attitudes that have defi ned insiders and outsiders. However, in recent years this idea of the ‘pure church’ has been challenged by several factors. Th e fi rst challenge comes from what is referred to, in Free Church circles, as ‘nominalism’. Church discipline has not been practised on the level of membership for years and consequently, many people remain formal members without sharing the church theology, nor living according to its ethical ideals. For example, I met a person during one of the healing campaigns who had grown up in the church, but had become interested in ‘alternative religiosity, and was sceptical to the church beliefs’. He was also living with a woman without being married to her, contrary to the church’s ethos. Th e second challenge comes from new converts who want to become members, but only partially agree with the church teaching. Sometime prior to my fi eldwork, a female celebrity had walked into one of the services. She became a confessing Christian and aft er a few weeks she invited the pastor out for dinner. She shared the church’s soteriology, but disagreed with some of its ethical teachings. She said, ‘I am considering becoming a member of your church, but there is one thing I need to know. I have had a lot of rejection in my life, and I don’t want more from the church. I am heterosexual myself, and yet I disagree with your view on gay sexuality. Can you accept a member with such an opinion on homosexuality?’. Tangstad responded that he could, if she could live

18 Tangstad 2006, p. 39. Th e passage reads: It is important for us to be relevant and involved in the life of the city in order to make Copenhagen a better city to live in. Th e example of Jesus motivates us to pay attention to the needs of others and endeavour to meet them. 48 chapter three with the fact that her pastor was preaching the view that God loves homosexuals as much as anybody else, but still wants them to live in celibacy. A few weeks later she became a member. Yet, I will suggest that she still can be considered a non-traditional or eclectic convert, in the sense that she, as a new convert, does not see herself as a novice, who should learn the tradition, but instead she feels free to choose or dismiss parts of this tradition, based on her previous values. A third challenge comes from passionate mainstream Christians, who agree with most of the church’s theology, but who reject one of the key practices required for membership; baptism by immersion. As an example, Pastor Tangstad told me about one woman who agreed with the Pentecostal theology in principle, but did not want to become baptised ‘again’ because of her Lutheran family. As a response, he advised her to go home and pray for ‘freedom of conscience’. Interestingly, while she was praying, she received the ‘Pentecostal experience’ of being fi lled with the Spirit, and spoke in tongues for the fi rst time. Aft erwards she felt both free and fi lled with the Spirit, but she did not feel any need for becoming baptised. I will suggest that this may be seen as a kind of eclectic ecumenical- ism. People seem to pick up beliefs and experiences from other traditions, but unlike ecumenical theologians they do not ask questions about systematic theological implications. People may have partially disagreed with their local Pentecostal church for as long as such churches have existed. What is new is that the scope and intensity of such dissi- dence is so strong that it makes the church reconsider its concept of membership. In fact, these pressures ‘from below’ had already altered the church practice to some degree. Passionate lay ‘eclectic ecumenists’ were already acting as leaders for some groups in the church, without being members. For this reason the church was considering their membership criteria. To these challenges ‘from below’, we might add several developments initiated by the leadership ‘from above’. Th e fi rst is the ecumenical development that has already been mentioned. It is worth noticing that the church presents itself as both a Pentecostal church and as a church that stands in the evangelical and charismatic tradition. Th us, the church places itself in several traditions, in addition to the common ground defi ned by the apostolic creed. During my fi eldwork, the pastors also discussed how they could combine ‘Pentecostal spirituality’ with forms of contemporary spirituality that has grown out of the mysticism from the Greek Orthodox and Roman Catholic traditions. contexts – churches, cities and nations 49

It may also be worth noticing that the dream of a church in a culture centre, with Christ at its centre, was born when the present pastor was the principal of a Pentecostal Danish Folk High School. ‘Embracing life’ may therefore also represent a theological journey, since Folk High Schools are born out of the Grundtvigian tradition, in which ‘one is man fi rst and then a Christian’. One may ask whether the degree of cultural embracing represents something new in the Pentecostal tradition, which largely has been sceptical to the theatre, movies, and to a large degree, even fi ne arts. Th is domain was largely perceived as sinful and ‘of this world’. Although Tangstad can pinpoint events where Pentecostal leaders like Th omas Ball Barratt and Levi Pethrus occasionally opened up their churches to cultural events, he acknowledges that the Pentecostal church he grew up in was ‘afraid of the world’ and had little to off er it, because it had isolated itself from it. For this reason, one may ask if the culture centre represents a stronger emphasis on what one might call a theology of creation, compared with earlier Pentecostal pietism. As an example, Café Kant now occasionally also serves alcohol, implying that the church has abandoned another old Pentecostal identity marker; that of absolute abstinence. Does that mean that the church is moving away form Pentecostalism? Tangstad, however, resists the idea that the church leaders are eclectic ecumenists that have abandoned the core of their Pentecostal heritage. He identifi ed at least four characteristics of classical Pentecostal churches that he seeks to bring with him into the future.19 Firstly, its participants are dedicated Bible believers, and we have seen that the Bible sermon is an important part of the Sunday service. Th e church also maintains conservative interpretations of the Bible in several matters, with the consequence that some converts and new people actually reject the church. Th e three most common reasons for rejecting the church, according to one of the other pastors, were its conservative view of sexual relations outside of marriage, its view on homosexual practice and the rejection of the idea of reincarnation. Nevertheless, it is worth noticing that the church prefers to describe itself as ‘evangelical’ rather than ‘fundamentalist’.20 Th us, it might represent a new

19 Th e following description is based on formal and informal interviews during fi eldwork. 20 Tangstad 2004, CD 6. See also the church’s declaration of faith; ‘hva vi tror’, . By ‘evangelical’ Jarle Tangstad means that the Bible is 50 chapter three terminology in relation to earlier Pentecostals,21 even though the consequences in terms of normative application largely remain the same.22 Secondly, a classical Pentecostal church was not a church for the socio-cultural elite, but a church for and of ‘the people’, and Pinsekirken wants to be an open church, a church for ‘all generations and nationali- ties’ (LFE, p. 63). In this sense it is a folk church, and Tangstad embraces its ‘egalitarian ideals’. Th is could be seen as the motivation for being a relevant church, and for an organisational structure where all members can be involved in church government. Th irdly, Tangstad emphasised that classical Pentecostal believers gathered for a ‘Spirit fi lled service’, where they would hear teaching from the Bible and be open for spontaneous manifestations of charismatic gift s. We have already seen that prayer and gift s of the Spirit are part of the church services. Fourthly, early Pentecostal believers gathered because they wanted to make a diff erence in the world. Th ey believed that the Holy Spirit had empowered them to proclaim the gospel and transform the world. Nonetheless, this is where the traditional story begins to wobble, according to Tangstad. Despite their wish to make a diff erence in the world, the traditional Pentecostal church drew a strict boundary between itself and the world of unbelievers. Th us, the church seems to strive to maintain what it sees as key elements of a ‘Pentecostal identity’, even though the image of life transformation seems to have replaced the distinctive Pentecostal doctrine of Spirit Baptism, with tongues as initial evidence, as the centre of its self- presentation.23 Th is kind of dynamic change can nonetheless also be seen in light of the church’s value of ‘bold generosity’: We invest in people and dare to choose new directions. We want to live for the enrichment and benefi t of ourselves and with room for taking risk and making mistakes. (LFE, p. 45).

understood as the Word of God, and as normative for the church’s belief and practice. At the same time, however, he maintains that the Bible needs to be interpreted with sensitivity to the context and the ‘spirit’ of each passage – a sensitivity that ‘fundamentalists’, as Tangstad defi nes them, lack. 21 Even if early Pentecostals may have identifi ed with the fundamentalist movement, it was the normative use of the Bible that was identity-carrying (Josefsson 2005, p. 182). 22 Devoted faith in the Bible, understood as having the Bible as standard for our lives (LFE, p. 43). 23 Interestingly, tongues is basically perceived as one of many gift s that accompany an infi lling of the Spirit, in the book Livet er en gave (Tangstad 2006, p. 85). Th e use of ‘infi lling’ rather than ‘Baptism’ may indicate a move towards the evangelical-charismatic theology, but this needs further investigation, and is not the theme of this study. contexts – churches, cities and nations 51

Hillsong in London

Britain as Religious Context We have already seen that the Hillsong church has been experiencing tremendous growth in the heart of central London, which also may be seen as a centre of global consumerism. But how does this relate to the religious demographics of Britain? Th e 2001 census for the whole of the United Kingdom reported that approximately 42 million people (almost 72 per cent of the population) identifi ed themselves as Christians.24 Recent developments in Britain have given birth to Paul Heelas and Linda Woodhead ’s ‘spiritual revolution’ thesis. Th ey claim that their research seems to confi rm Peter Brierley’s suggestion that only 7.9 per cent of the British population attends church on a typical Sunday. Even though other research might present higher fi gures,25 they suggest that church attendance has declined by almost a third since 1980 and by half since 1950 (Heelas and Woodhead 2005, pp. 51–52), whereas the involvement in ‘alternative religious’ practices has increased signifi - cantly in the same period, especially among women over 45. If this tendency continues, Britain may face an emerging spiritual revolution (Heelas and Woodhead 2005). However, Heelas and Woodhead seem to agree with William Kay ’s claim that Pentecostal and new charismatic churches have managed to grow, ‘counter’26 to the general religious trend.27 Th e situation in London might be slightly diff erent from the rest of Britain, since most of Britain’s non-Christian population is concentrated in the multicultural capital.28 According to the 2001 census, 30 per cent

24 Source: http://www.statistics.gov.uk/, accessed 15 March 2007. 25 Heelas and Woodhead acknowledge that there is discrepancy between diff erent sources of data (Heelas and Woodhead 2005, pp. 50–51). ISSP (International Social Survey Program, 1998) found that 17% of their British respondents were claiming to attend church two or three times a month (Source: Greeley 2003, pp. 70–71). 26 Heelas and Woodhead 2005, pp. 62 ff ; Kay 2002, p. 42. However, according to Heelas and Woodhead (2003, p.63) ‘subjectivization’ also takes places in congregations of ‘experiential diff erence’ in accordance with cultural trends. 27 Moreover, the charismatic forms of Christianity have also gained signifi cant infl uence inside more traditional denominations, including the Anglican Church (see Kay 2002, pp. 43–44). 28 In the 2001 census, London was home to 56 per cent of the Jews in Britain, 52 per cent of the Hindus, and 38 per cent of the Muslims. 52 chapter three of London’s 7.5 million residents were born outside England. Many of these create their own sub-cultural communities and churches.29 Th e Hillsong church is, however, relatively British or at least ‘Anglo-Saxon’, in terms of its attendees’ cultural and ethnic background. During my fi eldwork I met young adults from many nations, but predominately from Britain, Australia, and South Africa. An unoffi cial ‘census’ undertaken by the leader of the church’s ‘spotter-team’ showed that half of the attendees were British.30 Th us, overall it seems that Hillsong is located in a context in which ‘British identities’ merge with the other facets of ‘global culture’.

A Comparative Note on Religious Demography Overall, Britain seems to be slightly more pluralistic than Denmark, in terms of being a traditional Christian culture. Th e offi cial Anglican state church has not been as dominant, in England, as its Scandinavian counterpart has been in Denmark. In 2003, the Offi ce for National Statistics indicated that approximately 29 per cent of the British population identifi es with Anglicanism, 10 per cent with the Roman Catholic Church, and 14 per cent with Protestant churches.31 Participating in ‘free churches’ may therefore be considered, at least statistically, as less peculiar in Britain than in the Scandinavian countries, and Britain seems to be closer to the American situation of a ‘Free Market’ of religious groups.32 Another diff erence, relevant to a comparison of the churches, is that London is an arena with a larger population of immigrants from the Christian South and the British Commonwealth. Th is means that Hillsong may, to a greater extent than its Scandinavian counterparts, ‘recruit’ types of immigrants who might prefer this kind of church.

29 Accordingly, several of London’s growing Charismatic churches are also multiethnic or ‘non-British’ in terms of ethnic background, e.g. Kensington Temple, which claims to gather people from more than 100 nations (http://www.kt.org). 30 One of my informants who was leading the teams of ‘spotters’ (people who register newcomers) had made a survey based on the 3000 new converts, and found that about 50% of attendees were British, which was the largest ‘ethnic’ group, followed by South Africans. 31 Source IRFR; . 32 Th is seems to confi rm Zuckerman (2009), and Starke and Finke ’s (2000) suggestion that religious monopolies stimulate secularisation, at least if this is measured by church attendance. contexts – churches, cities and nations 53

Th e History of Hillsong In 1983, husband and wife Brian and Bobbie Houston founded a daughter church of the Sydney Christian Life Centre, called Hills Christian Life Centre, in the north-western region of the Australian city. Since its modest beginning, the church had grown from 45 members to 18,000 attendees on a given Sunday at the end of my fi eldwork. Today, the Hillsong Church is internationally known for its growing congregations, its television programmes on the globally distributed God Channel (http://www2.hillsong.com/tv/home.asp), and for its praise and worship music.33 Th e daughter church in London became a Hillsong church in 1998. At that time, Gary Clarke was sent to lead a struggling church, which was experiencing what Clarke describes as a ‘half church split’. Under his leadership the church has grown from about 200 attendees in 2001 to about 6000 at the beginning of 2006. According to Clarke, most attendees are between 20 and 33 years old.34

Th eological Tradition Hillsong London’s mother church is a member of the Australian Assemblies of God, and therefore Pentecostal in terms of denominational belonging and theological tradition. Since the 1980s, the church and its leaders have been infl uential within this denomination, and Brian Houston has been the leader of the Australian Assemblies of God since 1997. Hillsong has therefore been instrumental in the process that has been called the ‘apostolic revolution’ among Australian Pentecostals (Clift on 2005, pp. 217–218).

Organisational Structure Organisationally, the Hillsong church in London is an extension of the mother church in Sydney, which is led by Senior Pastor Brian Houston. Th e church in London is led by Clarke, and supervised by Houston and a board of elders located in Sydney. Th e same applies to other daughter

33 Th e television broadcasts reach 160 countries. Th e Sydney church now also includes a congregation (worship centre) in the centre of Sydney that used to be Sydney Christian Life Centre, see . 34 Th e fi gure,as well as other information presented above ,was presented at the Norwegian Pentecostals preacher conference in February 2005 (source: fi eld note). 54 chapter three churches in Europe, and it is therefore impossible to draw a sharp line between Sydney and London. Hillsong is a trans-local church, but with a formal power centre located in Sydney. Th e local structure in Sydney refl ects the so-called ‘apostolic revolution’ in the Australian Assemblies of God, meaning that local churches are independent and that the board of elders is appointed by the senior pastor. However, in relation to Wagner’s terminology (see chapter two), it might be worth noticing that Brian and Bobbie Houston are presented as the Senior Pastors, and not as apostles. During my fi eldwork, Clarke was assisted by a team of four co-pastors and their wives,35 and a growing staff of more than twenty people.36 Th e organisational structure outside the pastoral centre was very fl exible. At the end of my fi eldwork, the staff was assisted by several hundreds of volunteers who worked on diff erent teams led by teams of three persons; sometimes considered equals, sometimes led by a ‘fi rst among the three’. In the midweek life groups, the responsible person was given the role description of ‘host’ rather than a ‘leader’, and assisted by the other members of group in performing its most important tasks. Membership in the church is primarily cognitive and aff ective in the sense that everyone who identifi es Hillsong as his or her church can consider herself a ‘member’ or ‘partner’. However, they have no formal right in terms of power, other than by ‘voting with their feet’ (attending or not attending), and their money (giving or not giving). As we saw in chapter two, aft er the ‘apostolic revolution’, Hillsong and its sister churches have defi ned the senior pastor and the elders as members, and the congregation as partners with no formal authority besides recognising the elders (Clift on 2005, p. 218). Even though the pastor has much power, he must consult the elders in important matters. According to Houston, it is ‘the team that makes the decisions’ (Maj Dali 2003, p. 280). It is, for instance, the elders who have given shape to the church’s somewhat conservative theology on female leadership.37 In the organisational structure during

35 Th e involvement of the spouse varied, and one of the pastors was not married. 36 Th e staff was growing during my fi eldwork, at the beginning of 2007 there were 35 in the staff . At the staff breakfast I attended, there was 11 males and 10 females present. 37 In an interview with Kameel Majadli, Houston says: ‘I am not suggesting that one should be autocratic, as I believe in eldership and Presbyterian leadership. When I run a meeting, it is the team that makes the decision.’ (Majahli 2003, p. 280). In another interview for an Australian television programme, Houston claims that the church is led by the elders, and that the church has no female elders out of respect to the elders who have a biblical stance against female elders (see transcript of Australian Story). contexts – churches, cities and nations 55 my fi eldwork, Hillsong had only male elders, although there were female pastors. Yet, it might be worth noticing that Brian Houston says this is an issue that the church must keep addressing.38 I will suggest that Brian and Bobbie Houston appear as mother and father fi gures in the church. Th is can be seen in the fact that it is Bobbie who has written the church’s ‘popular’ ecclesiology (Houston 2001a), although Brian adds ‘a male perspective’ in the fi nal chapter (2001c). Th us, to some degree, they lead together, and together with the elders they seem to form a power structure with ‘multiple peaks of authority’, a structure that might have affi nity with what Mary Douglas calls a ‘proto-hierarchy’ (Douglas 1996, p. xxv). It is also worth noticing that some of the elders and their families have been a part of the church from its early days. Th us, there seems to be a group of people in the centre who seem to value their relationships strongly. Overall, I will suggest that this implies that the structure in the centre is more ‘hierarchical’ than ‘authoritarian’, in Lingenfelter ’s terminology.

Important Practices According to the pastors, there are two sets of key practices in the church, inspired by the narrative of the early church in Acts 2:42–47. Th e fi rst is the services that take place on the weekend. Th e second dimension is the relational processes and events, most notably the gathering of life groups, that take place during the weekdays.

Th e Service Th e fi rst is the Sunday service, which at the end of my fi eldwork was celebrated three times every Sunday.39 From participant observation, I will suggest that visitors have a sense of professionalism and warmth from the fi rst point of contact. Th is is no coincidence, since the church values excellence, understood as serving God wholeheartedly and doing more than expected. For Hillsong, the service begins when you exit the tube. When we came as a family to the church, we were spotted by the hosts and guided outside of the queue, to a room where one of us could stay with our child. Th is gave us a sense of being welcome and

38 See interview at http://www.abc.net.au/austory/content/2005/s1427560.htm. 39 Th ere is also a ‘kids’ church’ during the Sunday services. In the beginning of my fi eldwork, there were six Sunday services in the Mermaid Th eatre, as well as one on Saturday night. 56 chapter three treated well. A service would normally include several elements, such as a relatively short prayer based on ‘prayer requests’ or ‘praise reports’ that have been delivered in writing, then there is ‘church news’ incarnated in an MTV-inspired video presentation, and an off ering that also includes an introduction to the church or to humanitarian projects run by the church or other collaborators.40 Th e two elements that are given most time in the service are corporate worship and the sermon. During worship, one can see a large crowd of people, ‘jump-dance’ before God. My fi eld notes read: I look to the stage and there I see 5 front singers ‘dancing’ their song to God, and behind them a small praise choir joins in, whereas the band in the middle accompanies them. Th en, I look to my sides and see people jumping all over the place. I see a whole congregation dancing and jumping in the house of God, as they sing: ‘I will go where You want me to go I will do what You want me to do…’ Aft er a while the music slows down a little bit, and the worship leaders guide us from a celebratory and Ionian praise towards a more Lydian and intimate form of worship. As I turn to my left and right, I see that people have stopped jumping; instead they lift their hands while they sing: ‘Saved by your mercy; I’m found in Your grace. Totally surrendered to your embrace, and there’s nothing more than you. See your perfection. I’m lost in Your peace. Your faithfulness sings over me, and your love is the light of my soul.’ As this note shows, the narrative tone in worship may change between passionate and energetic ‘Ionian’ proclamation of the believer’s commitment to God, and a more peaceful, ‘Lydian’ proclamation of God’s love and faithfulness. Th e total impression of light, sound, and strong involvement easily creates the notion of being in a room where people have a sense of experiencing ‘collective eff ervescence’. Th us, the way the Hillsong Church performs ‘worship’ may, at least at fi rst glance, seem to have affi nity with both a late modern rock concert and more traditional tribal practices.41

40 Th e main partner was Compassion (International), see . 41 Th is form of worship, which also can be found in Hillsong Paris, might have fasci- nated Emile Durkheim. In 1912, he wrote a classic book on the elementary forms of religion in which he analysed the Australian aborigines and their totemic beliefs and practices. In these analyses, he found ritual dance contributed to creating an experience of ‘collective eff ervescence’ that inspired aff ective commitment to the group and its traditional values (Durkheim 2001, pp. 230ff ; 280–288). contexts – churches, cities and nations 57

Th e sermon in Hillsong seldom lasts more than 35 minutes. Th e content will be presented below. In terms of style, Gary Clarke enters the scene wearing quite trendy everyday clothes.42 Clarke speaks with conviction, he sometimes, but seldom, raises his voice. Like many late modern preachers he adds a few humorous anecdotes to his sermons, but most of his teaching is focused on the practical application of biblical wisdom to everyday problems. Finally, in every service aft er the sermon, people were encouraged to ‘make their peace with God’ and pray an internal prayer together with the speaker aft er the sermon. Th ose who did this and raised their hands were approached by an usher (spotter), and given a book and a possibility to exchange contact information with the church.

Midweek Events: Life Groups and Doing Life Together Th e other set of key practices, is the practice of ‘doing life together’ during midweek. A key practice is the life group or connect group,43 where people meet to eat, ‘share life’, pray together, and discuss how one can apply Sunday’s sermon to everyday life. Occasionally, groups will celebrate communion and sometimes perform baptism, as well. It is worth noticing that the structure of these groups is very fl at, in the sense that it is coordinated by a ‘host’ rather than by a ‘leader’. Both respondents’ narratives and my own observation seem to suggest that these ‘hosts’ lead primarily by ‘facilitating interaction’ and participation in these groups. It has a very loose structure, in the sense that people can come or quit, at will. Th is relational core practice is also supplemented by diff erent sorts of parties and other social happenings, including so-called ‘pub-size events’ where people meet ‘just to enjoy each other’s company’, and ‘build friendship’ in a setting that is less intimate than the connect groups. I observed that ‘mingling’ was an important activity in such events, which provided time and opportunity for making new contacts and fi nding new friends. Also, there was a few other practices and ministries in the London church at the time of my fi eldwork. Th ere were leadership courses and a discovery course, as well as a ‘welcome to church party’ for

42 Interestingly, when a video from the year 2000 was presented during the time of my fi eldwork, showing ‘the old Clarke’ preaching in a suit and tie, the congregation cher- ished this with friendly laughter, only fi ve years later. 43 Th e groups changed name from life group to connect group during the time of my fi eldwork. 58 chapter three new participants. And there were several teams that worked to ‘produce’ the Sunday services.

Leadership and the Practice Building Culture Th e leadership team in Hillsong speaks oft en about leadership and building culture. Leadership is understood in terms of a recognised authority to lead, but also as an equipping function. Th e Senior Pastor is viewed as a cultural architect, who shares the church story and enables people to take ‘ownership of the vision’. Every second week during my fi eldwork, I heard the following sentence: ‘Th is is who we are as a church, and what we are trying to achieve’, in diff erent church settings. Th e basic ingredient of leading and building culture is, according to Brian Houston, that of being an example to others (Houston 2001c, p. 208). Clarke also emphasised that you cannot expect someone to be led by you, unless you give her or him an example to follow. Finally, leaders should build culture through facilitation of practices. Th is practice also has an aesthetic aspect. Th e Hillsong congregation express themselves through certain quite contemporary music genres and forms of visual communication. Th e underlying idea is that those biblical principles should build the long-term values of the culture, whereas methods and aesthetic expression should be constantly evaluated and revised.

Commitment Script: To be Empowered to Flourish within the Church Th e mission statement of Hillsong reads: To reach and infl uence the world by building a large Bible-based church, changing mindsets and empowering people to lead and impact in every sphere of life.44 A key aspect of this statement is the idea that the church should empower people to ‘lead and impact in every sphere of life’. Th is idea has also become a part of the church’s soteriology. Th e declaration of faith reads: We believe that sin has separated each of us from God and His purpose for our life. We believe that the Lord Jesus Christ as both God and man is the only One who can reconcile us to God. He lived a sinless and exemplary life, died on the cross in our place, and rose again to prove His victory and empower us for life. (http://myhillsong.com/what-we-believe).

44 For a comprehensive presentation of the vision, see website. contexts – churches, cities and nations 59

Th e last part of this passage concludes that Jesus’ victory has empowered the believer for life. Th is part of Hillsong’s teaching is oft en referred to as the ‘prosperity gospel’ by its critics (e.g. Prece 2006). It might be worth noticing that the church’s preachers mainly seem to prefer to speak about ‘blessing’ or ‘to fl ourish in life’ rather than about ‘prosperity’. In the opening page of the book, ‘How to live a blessed life’, which is an exposition of Psalm 112, Houston writes: How to live a blessed life – I believe that is what every human being needs to know. Yet the reality is that there is already a book in existence that gives all the instruction you need. It is the most widely read, most oft en translated and best-selling book of all time. If you haven’t guessed it, that book is the Bible. Th ere are some who think that the Bible is dull and irrelevant, full of rules and regulations. Sadly, that presumption causes them to miss out on the wealth of truth, information and understanding about God and the life that the Bible contains. As God’s word to us, it has all the wisdom we need for living life successfully. It covers everything – from health, fi nance business and work, to relationships, marriage and parenting – anything and everything you could ever want to know… Th e Bible is my manual for living and I’ve given my life to teaching its principles to others… (Houston 2002, p. 1). Several observations can be made from this passage. Firstly, the phrase ‘living life successfully’ may indicate that Houston wants to relate to the late modern discourse on ‘success’, and convey that the Bible can be read and used as a ‘manual’ for successful living.45 Secondly, ‘blessing’ includes money, but is about more than material commodities; it covers ‘all areas of life’. In an interview given to Australian television, Houston defi nes success as ‘developing one’s God given potential’.46 Th irdly, success or blessing is not a result of ‘chance’, but a matter of applying biblical principles to one’s life. If one ‘sows’, by living in accordance with biblical principles over time, one will ‘reap’ blessing.47 Fourthly, it follows that

45 One of its most friendly critics, Shane Clift on , suggests that Hillsong’s perspective over time has widened from a more narrow focus on money and ‘prosperity’ to a more holistic concept of ‘fl ourishing in life’, see Clift on 2005, p. 226. 46 Th e transcript reads: ‘I don’t think you should look at success one-dimensionally, I think too many people make that mistake of judging success, or even when they hear the word success, immediately to take it to mean material things. I think you’ve got to look at people’s well-being in their relationships, I think their impact on other people, I think ultimately success is whether or not we live close to the potential that God’s given us.’ Th is quote is from the transcript of an interview with Australian television (ABC), in 2005 . 47 Th is logic was presented in the off ering speeches and is evident in Houston 1999, pp. 61–86, see Clift on 2005, p. 225. 60 chapter three the individual has a responsibility to align herself with God’s principles, and this includes positive thinking. Out of Proverbs 23:7, Houston states: When you allow your heart and thinking to line up with the Word of God, you will begin to become the person that He says you are. (Houston 2003, p. 37). What I heard during the fi eldwork in London was mainly teaching on the virtue of generosity. According to Gary Clarke, generosity is not understood as spontaneous feelings, but as a holistic approach or as ‘a position you take in life’, as a refl ection of God’s kingdom, and thus an ethical virtue that is valued in itself and not only for its instrumental consequences, in terms of blessing.48

Th e Ecclesial Commitment Script Th is is only one aspect of the church’s teaching. Th e church also teaches that one is ‘blessed to bless others’. Th is seems clear in the church’s declaration of faith, which reads: We believe that God has individually equipped us so that we can successfully achieve His purpose for our lives, which is to worship God, fulfi l our role in the Church and serve the community in which we live. Here, three sets of obligations are sketched. Th e fi rst is ‘to worship God’, the second ‘to fulfi l our role in the church’, and the third ‘to serve in the community in which we live’. I will return to the fi rst set later, at this point I will ask what it means ‘to fulfi l our role in the church’ and ‘serve the community in which we live’. One weekend during my fi eldwork the church sermon was on the church’s vision and identity. Interestingly, it was not the longer vision, nor the mission statement that was presented in the teaching. Th e three main points of the series were: Imagine if we all cared Imagine if we all contributed Imagine if we all were soulwinners

48 Source: fi eld notes. According to Clarke, generous living has a threefold set of consequences. Firstly, it helps people who are on the receiving end of your generosity, secondly, generosity leads to the glorifi cation of God, and thirdly, it transforms the person who is giving into a ‘larger person’, in the sense that one’s heart is ‘expanded’ and one’s life view is changed - as one is attending to the needs of others. Generosity is also thought of in generative terms, in the sense that if you give to others, and particularly the church, God will bless you, and enable you to give more. contexts – churches, cities and nations 61

One of the pastors told me that if you identifi ed with these three sentences you could consider yourself a ‘member’ of the church. Th is kind of membership, by identifi cation, is obviously a membership ‘by heart’.

Becoming a Part of God’s Family One should not underestimate both the explicit and implicit theology embedded in these three sentences. Th e church is a central theme in Hillsong’s sermons, and the three sentences correspond to three frequently used images in their teaching. Th ese are all present in Bobbie Houston’s book on the church, called ‘Heaven is in this House’. Th e fi rst image is the vision of the church as God’s family. Th e vision of a church where ‘all care’ may obviously be connected to the image of church as God’s family. Bobbie Houston writes that God calls the church a family because ‘it is about unconditional love and acceptance’.49 Th is belief is built into several interaction rituals that can be taught and practised. As we have seen in London, every Hillsong service began with a short session in which the words ‘welcome home’ appear on the big screens. More importantly, the vision of the church as a family can be put into practice during ‘midweek activities’, such as life groups, where people ‘build friendship’ and create ‘families of friends’.50

Building God’s House – Reaching, Serving, and Infl uencing the World Th e two other images of the church, presented in Houston’s book, are of the church as a ‘body’ and as a ‘house’. Th ese also tended to fi gure in the teaching in Hillsong London. However, ‘house’ was the most frequently used term, and the idea of ‘contributing’ was mainly linked to the notion of ‘building the house’. Contributing, and the dream of a church where all contribute, therefore relates to the image of the church as the house of God and the body of Christ. Contributing may have several meanings in Hillsong, but in addition to caring, it certainly means using one’s gift s in one of the teams that build the services or ministries, and it means giving money to the church. Th e off ering is therefore an essential part of

49 Houston 2001a, p. 18. Bobbie Houston repeatedly uses ‘health’ as a metaphor, when she describes her vision of the church. Healthy families, according to Houston ‘eat, play and grow together’, and thus ‘possess what the world longs for’. 50 Th e metaphor health appears in most of the book’s chapter headlines (20 out of 23), Houston 2001a. 62 chapter three each service. Th e church teaches ‘tithing’, meaning that it is part of the normal Christian life to give ten per cent of one’s income to the church. A key idea in Gary Clarke’s preaching during my fi eldwork was that the church is called to be a representative ‘vehicle’ for God’s presence in the world. Church participants should therefore view themselves as ‘representing’ Christ in their everyday life. According to Clarke, the church is called to be a moral example in the world. Th e church should not, at least not primarily, engage itself in ‘moralistic’ preaching from the ‘outside’ of people’s lives. Instead it should focus on practising the church’s core virtues, such as care, servanthood, and generosity in their everyday lives, thus ‘attracting’ people to Christ instead of judging them. ‘Healthy houses’, according to Bobbie Houston, are ‘committed to generations, to feed the hungry, and fund the salvation of the earth’. Th is belief is also ritually integrated in the church services. During the period of my fi eldwork, the work of Compassion to help orphans in East Africa received a lot of focus in the services (www.compassion.com). Th us, overall, it seems that the church’s commitment script pre- scribes a wide range of possible commitments to God, the church, and to the wider community.

Levels of Commitment to the Church Even though Hillsong’s commitment script is very informal, in the sense that it is basically a question of aff ective commitment in the centre, Houston defi nes diff erent levels of it in terms of intensity. In the booklet, ‘How to fl ourish in life’, Houston identifi es four levels of commitment towards the church. (1) Enjoyment Th e fi rst is enjoyment. At this stage, Houston says teaching about blessing or success is about ‘your gain’. He seems to assess this attitude as immature rather than sinful, since he says that it scratches only on the surface of God’s purposes (Houston 2003, p. 27). It follows that he does not judge all enjoyment as self-interest, or all self-interest as sinful. (2) Servanthood Th e second level of involvement in the church is servanthood. People at this level, according to Houston, are those people who ‘have added to contexts – churches, cities and nations 63 their enjoyment by committing to serve in God’s house’. Houston emphasises that one should keep enjoying God’s house, so that one does not do good works grudgingly. (3) Giving Th e third level, according to Houston, is to understand that it is more blessed to give than to receive. Th is is what he calls ‘the revelation of giving’. If one wants to move to a deeper level of involvement in the church, one needs to ‘expand’ in the area of giving; also in the sense that one gives off erings and ‘tithes’ freely. (4) Carrying the load Th rough the stages of Houston’s model, the participant moves gradually from being an attendee of the House of God, towards being ‘planted’ progressively deeper in the church, until he is ‘carrying the load’. Houston states that ‘Kingdom minded people’ understand that they have a purpose, far greater than themselves (Houston 2003, p. 15). Moreover, he states that the ‘mature participant’ voluntarily chooses to carry the load, and make sacrifi ces in order to fulfi l the vision (Houston 2003, pp. 31–33). Th e telos of human life is therefore not, or at least not solely, enjoyment or prosperity; it is to serve God’s house and God’s kingdom. Houston illustrates this with the following fi gure (Houston 2003, p. 31):

Th e Call to a God-Centred Life – Worship as the Purpose of One’s Life Darlene Zschech, who is a famous worship leader of the Sydney church and mentor for the worship leaders in London, defi nes worship as adoration and as an intimate act in which the human spirit ‘connects’ to God. Th e core of worship is when one’s heart and soul, all that is within, adores and connects with the Spirit of God. (Zschech 2002, p. 27). It seems that the practice of worship is understood as a means of grace, in the sense that it is a way of facilitating an encounter with God,

Figure 2. Levels of commitment in Hillsong 64 chapter three in which God acts upon the worshipper by his Spirit.51 Accordingly, worship is seen as a way of ‘bringing’ God’s active presence to ‘this time and place’. Starting from Psalm 22:3, Zschech says: God inhabits your praises – not just my praises – not just on Sunday, but in your home.… and with His presence He brings His love, His healing, His forgiveness, His grace, and His mercy. (Zschech 2002, p. 54). Worship may also be described as a ‘lifestyle’ and as such as paradigmatic for human life strategies. Living a ‘Bible-based life’ and worshipping God can be seen as two aspects of a God-centred life. Hillsong’s declaration of faith states that: ‘Th e Bible is God’s Word. It is accurate, authoritative and applicable to our everyday lives’ (http://myhillsong .com/what-we-believe). In Hillsong’s visional story the Bible is more than a normative standard, it is also dynamic in the sense of ‘life changing’: Th e Church that I see has a message so clear that lives are changed forever and potential is fulfi lled through the power of His Word. (http:// myhillsong.com/vision). In other words, the Bible is understood as a means of grace, in the sense that it mediates God’s active, saving, and life-transforming presence – as it is received in faith.

‘Dying to Self’, and Living Heroically for the Cause of Christ What does it mean to have one’s life changed forever? Th is theme is evident in Houston’s most extensive book, titled ‘For this cause’, with the subtitle, ‘Finding meaning in life and living a life of meaning’ (Houston 2001b, pp. 22–35). Th e ‘cause of Christ’, which also appears in Houston’s teaching, is used as an equivalent for the ‘Kingdom of God’, the rule of Christ. Th e sum of God’s eternal purposes will be ultimately fulfi lled in the coming world, which in Hillsong’s discourse is oft en referred to as ‘Heaven’. Hillsong believes that Christ’s church will expand in the ‘last days’ as a result of an ‘end-time harvest’: Th e Church that I see is a Church of infl uence. A Church so large in size, that the city and nation cannot ignore it. A Church growing so quickly that buildings struggle to contain the increase. Th e Church that I see is a Church so committed to raising, training and empowering a leadership generation to reap the end-time harvest that

51 Th is notion is relatively common in charismatic churches (see Poloma 2003, p. 41). contexts – churches, cities and nations 65

all its ministries are consumed with this goal. (http://myhillsong.com/ vision). Th is ‘optimistic’ view of history is, however, oft en connected to the theme of sacrifi ce. To live for the ‘cause’ is also to die to oneself. Th e ‘dying to self’ may apply to both the ecclesial and individual level. Gary Clarke states that the London congregation at one particular time had to repent from self-indulgence, in terms of focusing on one’s self-presentation and a kind of ‘bless me’ thinking, to a renewed focus on the cause of the Kingdom and the task of ‘winning souls’.52 Houston describes dying to self on the individual level, primarily in terms of setting God’s agenda and priorities above one’s own agenda (Houston 2001b, pp. 139–141, see also p. 82). Brian Houston describes his commitment to the cause in this way: In my life, I am committed to the Cause of Christ. Th e Cause is what I live for, and it aff ects my behaviour, my thinking and my motivation. I don’t wake up in the morning and wonder what I should do with my life. Deep down I know I was born for His Cause, and nothing can change that (2001b, p. 8).

Heroic Images and Family Metaphors I will suggest that Houston here draws on the image of a heroic character or imagoe. Th e heroic imagoe is both convinced and committed, rather than an ambivalent ‘anti-hero’. He writes about ‘sleeping, eating and working for the cause’, and warns against settling for ‘the middle ground’.53 Th is heroic commitment script also includes confl ict. Bobbie Houston speaks of injustice in the world, and sees this in the perspective of the ‘fi ght between light and darkness’.54 In my view, this set of heroic images corresponds to Hillsong’s presentation of the church as the ‘house of God’. However, there is also a set of soft er images linked to the image of the church as the ‘family of God’. Here the participants can be seen as ‘sons and daughters on a journey home’. Th e aff ective tone of heroic commitment and courageous faith is

52 Sermon given at the Norwegian Pentecostal movement’s annual conference in Oslo, February 2005 (source fi eld note). 53 Houston 2001b: Ch. 7; in particular pp. 10–13. 54 Houston 2001a, pp. 25–27. Health is a metaphor that appears in the headline of every one of the last 19 chapters of the book. 66 chapter three then supplemented by the image of a family, which off ers unconditional love to people who also have failures and shortcomings (Houston 2001b, ch. 2). Hillsong’s story also off ers two perspectives on, and possibly two corresponding vocabularies of, human agony. Th e fi rst is evident in the following quotation from Bobbie Houston: Church life and before all else, is about people, and people doing life encounter all sorts of challenges. When the challenge is on, every church needs to become stronger at recognizing, locating and then helping such people. As much as a healthy natural family would not stand by and pas- sively (or helplessly) allow one of its members to suff er, neither should our churches (Houston 2001a, p.78). Th is passage off ers a relational ‘care and compassion’ perspective that encounters human agony as both ‘challenges’ and as ‘suff ering’. She later moves on to expand this perspective, saying that the church should touch society as well. Seen together then, these perspectives form a script for a heroine, or hero, who overcomes her own obstacles, which makes her capable of helping others who suff er, motivated by compassion and unconditional love. Th e heroic aspect is emphasised by Brian Houston in For this cause (Houston 2001b, p. 16), where he chooses to describe his problems as ‘obstacles’, ‘challenges’ and ‘twists’ instead of describing them as unjust suff ering or pain. He does not suggest that life should be ‘easy going’. Life is rather a fi ght, but a fi ght that can always be won – if one faithfully applies God’s principles to one’s life. Overall, there seems to be little time or space for personal or corporate lament55 in the public life of the church, even though there seems to be space for interpersonal honesty. Houston also repudiates those who ‘demand’ empowering actions and success from people in diffi cult circumstances. Th us, it seems that this heroic self-character is more compassionate towards others than him- or herself.

55 Interestingly, the theme of lament, which might be seen as central in the fi rst 12 Psalms seems to be overlooked by Houston in his leadership teaching from these Psalms (Houston 2004, CDs). Only one out of 27 songs used during my fi eldwork has a lament theme as an ingredient. Th ese songs can be found on two worship CDs that were sold in the foyer, during the fi rst part of my fi eldwork; Shout God’s fame (Hillsong Music, Release Date: 8 June 2004), and For all you done (Hillsong Music, Release Date: 14 September 2004). contexts – churches, cities and nations 67

Men and Women – A Gendered Commitment Script One may ask if Hillsong explicitly off ers a slightly more explicit gendered commitment script than Pinsekirken. Above, I have suggested that Brian and Bobbie Houston stand forth as father and mother fi gures in the church. Interestingly, it is the mother fi gure who has written the book on the church, Heaven is in this house, in which she also exhorts males to rise up and be men (Houston 2001a, p.181). In the same book Brian Houston off ers a ‘male perspective’ in a postscript (Houston 2001c). I will suggest that Brian Houston’s contribution tends to focus on the church vision and the heroic individual, but includes unconditional love, whereas Bobbie (who has more space than a single chapter) writes more holistically about the church as a ‘healthy family’. For this reason one might suggest that Brian gives slightly more emphasis to the ‘heroic task of building God’s house’, whereas Bobbie Houston stands forth as the motherly caretaker. However, Bobbie also describes ‘whatever it takes women’, who walk in their created purpose, which may include several tasks: If we fi nd ourselves preaching and teaching, we will do it with all our hearts. If we fi nd ourselves serving and supporting we will do that also with all our hearts. (Houston 2001a, p. 186). Th ere are some elements in Bobbie Houston’s book that may share certain agendas with more romantic versions of modern feminism,56 but these elements seem to be integrated into a commitment script that is relatively traditional. Th is can be seen in the fact that she primarily defi nes the spiritual DNA of women as that of a ‘helper’ (Houston 2001a, p.186). If one sees this statement in conjunction with Brian Houston’s confession that he clings to what he calls ‘the conservative, biblical idea

56 She refers to Australia as a state where there are ‘no ceilings’ for women who ‘want to achieve’ – and see this in contrast to other cultures and states that ‘crush womanhood under oppression’. Interestingly, she calls Jesus an emancipator of women, and she can also describe God in female terms. In a passage that describes the church as a family she writes: ‘Family is actually the very essence of who God is. Th e Word describes him as Heavenly Father, nurturing Mother, Bridegroom, Husband and Brother’ (Houston 2001a, p.27). Th ese three elements, the affi rmation of women’s freedom in Western societies, her celebration of female leadership in the church, and her perception of God in female terms, might indicate that there are some elements of feminism in Houston’s thinking. Rosemarie Radford Ruether distinguishes between liberal feminism, which stresses the sameness between the sexes, and romantic feminism, which stresses gender complementarities. Houston seems far closer to the latter, see Ruether 1983, pp. 44; 104– 109, and Clift on 2005, p. 247). 68 chapter three that a man should take a role of leadership’,57 then their main perspective, or overall gender plot, is that of male leader and a female helper that nevertheless ‘reign and rule together’ (Houston 2001a, p. 186)

Comparative Summary

Th e purpose of this chapter has been to introduce the context cases. Th e churches will be analysed throughout the study. A few observations can nevertheless be made at this point. Both churches are located within large European cities, but Hillsong is located in a social context, which is slightly more favourable to Free Churches, in terms of religio-political structure, average church attendance, and immigrants that may identify with the church’s ethnic profi le. Britain also seems to be less secularized in terms of church attendance, given that Zuckerman ’s fi gures from Denmark (3 %) are comparable with those presented by Heelas and Woodhead (7,9%). Both churches also have roots in a Pentecostal tradition, but seek to be context-sensitive and relevant in terms of language and aesthetics. Th ey have diff erent formal organisational structures, but they share the notion that females cannot act as the senior leaders of the organisation. Th ey both off er weekly services, and diff erent forms of small groups and ministries, though Pinsekirken off ers a greater variety of both services and ministries. Hillsong, on the other hand, puts more emphasis on small groups, where the Lord’s Supper is celebrated and baptisms are performed. Both commitment scripts have roots in the biblical story, and both churches split their commitment script into diff erent phases in which the new participant moves from loose connection to engaging commitment. Th e commitment script in Hillsong is more orientated towards the church as a whole, whereas Pinsekirken’s script is more orientated towards discipleship. Both churches also have a vision of infl u- encing their context, as representatives of God and his kingdom.

57 Transcript from Australian story (see data in reference list). Here it might be worth noticing that the Australian Pentecostal tradition traditionally has accepted females in all leadership position, and that also includes advocates of ‘the apostolic revolution’ (see Cartledge 2000 p. 331–340). chapter four

PERSONS – STORIES FROM COPENHAGEN

Introduction to the Chapter

In this chapter I will present three of my respondents from Denmark through an in-depth analysis of their respective stories. A table that briefl y presents the other Danish respondents will follow in the fi nal part of the chapter. Parts of the stories of these respondents will be described and analysed from chapter six onwards. Th e following analysis will be undertaken in two main stages. Th e fi rst stage is a presentation of the participant’s story. At this stage, I will attempt to off er fairly ‘emic’ descriptions, in the sense that this description seeks to employ respondent-near categories and plots.1 Th e second level of analysis will entail several sub-stages. Firstly, I will describe their stated re asons for identifying with the church, or what I call identifi cation themes.2 Secondly, I will also seek to identify report of new commitments or virtues that seem to appear as a result of church participation. Th irdly, I will investigate the interpretative repertoires that provide a rationale to new commitments and virtues. Th e fourth and fi ft h stages of analysis will be somewhat diff erent in character. It reads the narrative as an account of a social infl uence process, taking place as the person’s mode of inner conversation interacts with other transforming variables. Finally, I will off er some refl ection on what this story of commitment says about the plot of the person’s life story and its relation to his or her accounts of their life strategy.

1 From a hermeneutical perspective, as Barbara Czarniawaska wisely suggests, telling a story unavoidably implies emplotment, and constructing a plot inescapably means theorising (Czarniawaska 2004, pp. 122–124). 2 Such themes are accounts of concerns that may evolve into what Archer calls projects. I view ‘reasons’ and ‘identifi cation themes’ as relatively interchangeable concepts since the latter term, as I intend to use it, can be seen as either a ‘thick’ description of one reason, or as a core category that connects diff erent sub-reasons into an overarching category. 70 chapter four

Th e Story of Peter

Peter is a single Dane in his early forties. He is a CEO in a small newly founded company and has an academic background from the Copenhagen School of Economics. He had been attending Pinsekirken for about for four years when I met him. Peter describes his parents as caring and bright. His father was a politician, and in his early youth Peter became a leading member of the social democratic party’s youth organisation. Because he grew up in a rather wealthy and conservative neighbourhood this meant that his views were contested in classroom discussions. He adds: ‘Maybe that infl uenced me in such a way that I always needed to prove myself.’ Later, Peter converted politically and became more ‘liberal’ in terms of political philosophy, as he was studying economics and subsequently made a career within major international companies. Th rough this period he remained a kind of idealist. His liberal views were intellectually grounded and perceived as answers to ‘what went wrong in the world’. Furthermore, Peter continued to dedicate himself to ‘issues’: …later on moving to sales and marketing with Apple Computer, which was kind of an almost religious thing to me. Maybe that is a bit how I also in professional life have been very dedicated to an issue, whatever it was. Maybe seeking fulfi lment more in the task or the vision, more than in the money, though that was nice to have…3

Th e Happy Circumstance that Led to a Crisis In his early thirties, he fell in love with a woman and they bought a house together. Yet, the early stage of this relationship is described in terms of sharing a lifestyle more than a life: Basically, we were sharing material stuff like a house – and we had three cars. So maybe we were really sharing a lifestyle more than sharing a life. However, when his ex-partner Rebecca gave birth to a daughter, the relationship entered a more serious and challenging phase: Having a daughter meant that the diff erences that Rebecca and I had came to the surface… that we had never really realised, issues like education, upbringing, stuff like that became important, and we were diff erent… and

3 Th e use of ellipsis in the quotes indicates that some words or phrases have been omitted. persons – stories from copenhagen 71

when Rebecca got fi red from her job when she got pregnant, that meant that our fi nances became a bit more tight. Slowly, these diff erences and the lack of shared values for Mary’s upbringing developed into a crisis that led to a break up. Because separating was much worse than he had ever imagined, Peter started to drink heavily. Th is had consequences for his fi nances, meaning that his alcohol problem developed into an economic crisis. Th e most painful aspect of the break-up was the consequences it had for his daughter. It was his love for his daughter that helped him resist the temptation to commit suicide: I tried to fi nd a refuge in alcohol. Never becoming the father I had planned and expected, and this garden I had planted with all sorts of fruit trees and all sorts of this and that, for her… Th e only thing left , the only reason I did not commit suicide was because I had Mary… I could not give her that experience of her father committing suicide.

Conversion – and Spirit Encounter It was in the midst of this crisis that his sister invited him to an evangelistic meeting in Copenhagen Christian Culture Centre. Peter was curious about cosmology and spirituality as a spectator, but did not defi ne himself as a spiritual seeker: Spiritually, I wouldn’t call myself a seeker, not really. But to some extent, I had been seeking, I think, from this arrogant, intellectual standpoint, I was, I would say, culturally interested in seeing what people would believe in. Th e healings that Peter saw at this meeting made him very curious. Th e next time he attended he was sober, because he wanted to fi nd out what kind of ‘pseudo-magic’ the healing evangelist was playing with people. He chose a discreet place in the background, but was about to be utterly surprised by what happened next: Th ey started to worship, and the lyrics came on the screen, and in English it said that you’re so close, you’re holding my hand now, and I think it was the second song. I’ve learned now it was ‘Holy Spirit Follow Me’… And I was just warm all over, and I was relaxed all over, and I was crying all over, and I was laughing all over, and I was feeling foolish and happy, and looking around, hoping that nobody would see what was going on. Being very happy that I was sitting in a discreet place, I had never heard anything about the Holy Spirit or Jesus, for that sake. Th en, later on when Hans was preaching, I was just sitting there in my own world. He asked whether anybody would give their life to Jesus, and I might have been an idiot, but I was an idiot with some kind of rationale, and I kind of felt the cards had been dealt, and so I put up my hand and said, ‘Yeah’. 72 chapter four

Th is dramatic encounter with what he perceives to be the Holy Spirit turned Peter into a seeker, and student of the Bible: Th e next morning, having probably slept a couple of hours, at seven o’clock, I called my mother, asking, ‘Don’t we have a Bible?’… Reading the Bible all day, and it opened itself up, it just revealed itself in a way. It was just speaking to me, whatever I read. So, I mean, studying spirituality a bit, from the intellectual viewpoint, I never considered it worthwhile to study Christianity. I didn’t consider it spiritual. Being the average Danish person, I kind of regarded smoking cannabis as being a spiritual thing. Th us, this was also a turning point in terms of an intellectual process, because he had never considered Christianity to be ‘spiritual’, in contrast to the practice of smoking cannabis and having deep talks. He went back to the church because he continued to experience the Spirit in its meetings: I just had to come here. I had no option otherwise. I just needed to come. However, of course it was the Holy Spirit, yeah. Walking in here, I was so fi lled. It was like you are a very, very dry sponge, and you get fi lled.

Committing to the Church Later, Peter went home and looked the church up in a dictionary, found out it was a Pentecostal church, and got suspicious. However, he was somewhat relieved when he discovered that the church’s independent Congregationalist ecclesiology in many ways corresponded to his own philosophy of how the world should function. Consequently, Peter continued to attend the church services and aft er some time, he started to serve as a volunteer. He also met a man who became an important dialogue partner, although Peter is reluctant to call him coach or mentor. Th is man did not live in Copenhagen, but Peter actually appreciated the geographic and psychological distance in their relationship: …you couldn’t say coach or mentor, or anything…but he was there. He was my contact, and he had such a broad perception and understanding of all the crap that I probably talked about and said. I mean, everything was new to me. I read the Bible, and made some wrong conclusions, but he was happy I made conclusions. We went on a bicycle trip around Copenhagen, and we had good chats like that. And he was there all the time. It meant a lot, and it also meant a lot that he respected me…he sort of kept a distance and allowed me to narrow the distance as I wanted. Later, Peter was tutored by of one the pastors, yet he still enjoyed doing Bible studies ‘on his own’ on the Internet. Peter also emphasises that it persons – stories from copenhagen 73 was the Spirit and nobody else that convinced him about refraining from drinking alcohol: Well, I got saved, so I stopped drinking. Nobody told me, you know, and the Holy Spirit is, you know, a nice guy. He’s very patient. Th e funny thing is when you’re an alcoholic, and you experience something good, it’s a cause for celebration. So what do you do? You drink. He allowed me to do that. ‘Hallelujah!’ [laughter] But it only lasted some days, or a week, or something like that, I just stopped drinking, because I couldn’t feel Him. So I had to make a choice, and it was a very positive choice. Although Peter had found a new source of help in the Holy Spirit, he also consulted with a doctor and made use of Antabus4 in the subsequent process. He also stopped using other drugs, even though he admitted he had not been able to quit smoking. Peter moved from being an attendee to being a committed and active participant in the church. He got involved in several ministries such as the Church’s welcome centre, Alpha courses, and the children’s church. His involvement in the children’s church was also motivated by his relationship with his daughter. And children’s church is beautiful. We have the world’s best children’s church. It’s madly wonderful, it’s fantastic, and my daughter is going there. So I became a volunteer, of course, in the children’s church. So we have this together, which is great. So her daddy is a schoolteacher also. Th at’s cool. We have a great relationship. His overall involvement also provided him with a new understanding of his spiritual gift s, which became part of his self-presentation: I really feel that my heart is with meeting people. I’m an evangelist, that’s one side of it. Th e other side is prayer. I need to focus on doing that. When I asked him to describe his commitment to the church, he replied by saying that he was one hundred per cent committed to the church. However, this attachment was based on a more fundamental commitment to God: I want to do something, and I really felt this urge to contribute to this place, because it’s given me my life back. I had Mary, and I could not, how do you say, give her that experience of her father committing suicide,

4 Disulfi ram is a drug used to support the treatment of chronic alcoholism by produc- ing an acute sensitivity to alcohol. Trade names for disulfi ram in diff erent countries are Antabuse and Antabus. 74 chapter four

so I was there. I kind of hung in. But, I also know the alcoholic mind, and as time goes, fi nally I would have realized that I was a worse father to her, being alive, and then I would have done it. So I owe everything, I owe one hundred per cent of my life to Jesus. It’s very easy. Th ere’s no relative thing in that. I also…I don’t owe myself one hundred per cent to the church, but to Jesus, which is important. But, of course, I’m extremely committed to this church. But, what does it mean to be extremely committed to the church? Th e character of Peter’s commitment can possibly be seen in his explanation of what would cause him to leave the church: I think what would make me leave the church would be the search for another church. If the situation would arise where I would feel the church became more of a ‘show’ church than a ‘Spirit feel’ church. If I felt the lack of the Holy Spirit heavily, I would have to leave, I think, and if I felt that this is not a temporary thing, this is something permanent; this is where we’re heading. Overall, his perception of prayer and the presence of the Spirit seem to be the most important reasons for Peter’s identifi cation with, and commitment to, the church. Th is passage shows he cares about its strategic choices. He has also voted against the leaders in several matters. I’ve had diff erent views on many things…and I voted against some very important decisions. Hence, Peter’s commitment to the church also entails a kind of critical distance. However, it is worth noticing that Peter’s attitude towards politics in the church diff ers from his perception of secular politics, because he believes that God acts in the Church: Th e fi rst time I came to the church meeting, whatever you call that, I was waiting for when we should do the voting. With my political background, I was assuming to vote for something. It never happened [laughter]. So I was going, ‘okay, okay, okay’. And then I realized, ‘okay, Peter, if you believe in God, and you believe that He is in control, okay’. Th en it makes sense. When I asked him if the opportunity to vote had strengthened his motivation to participate in the church, he replied ‘no’. What matters most is the possibility to be heard and be involved in the process: It could be that I think maybe it was important that we had this … I would say the discussion, openly. Th at’s important to me; that we are able to talk about these things. persons – stories from copenhagen 75

Consequences of Church Participation What are the most important consequences of this commitment in terms of life strategies? When I asked him about this, he answered by telling the story of his recovery from alcoholism. He also added that he stopped swearing and that his basic attitude to other people had changed. Peter describes his ‘former self” as ‘arrogant’, but claims he now has become signifi cantly kinder to all people. When I asked him about his plans and dreams for the future, two major themes emerged; his wish to live in the will of God, and his responsibilities towards his daughter and his ex-partner, whom he now calls his ‘ex-wife’. He added that his relationship with God has given him a new perspective on love and has helped him to take care of this relationship in a new way: Th e Holy Spirit maybe showed me that in a new perspective. Th e perspective of ‘eros’ in contrast to ‘agapic’ love. I didn’t know those words, but I saw the perspective, and the wrong focus of being so occupied with your sexuality that you are not able to live a full life, really… so when I came back to my mentor (the pastor), it was tough to deal with my own broken marriage. Even if Peter never was married, he now perceives this relationship as a life-long relationship. Th e relationship may have changed character, but it is still a relationship that calls for Peter’s attention and care to the degree that he has not attached himself to a new woman, although Peter does not rule out such a possibility. Th is is partly rooted in his concern towards Mary, his daughter. However, this search for a woman is now guided by his discovery of ‘agapic love’. Th is has created some problems in relation to Rebecca, since Peter has become hesitant about marrying a woman who is not a Christian: But if she doesn’t become a Christian, that’s a key. I mean, that would be a necessity… if we have a problem, one would seek a solution in prayer, and the other wouldn’t know what’s going on, that would be interpreted as going into yourself if you can’t share the problem in a common, shared prayer. Becoming a Christian has also changed his perception and practices of friendship: I have always had a few very good friends, but you may say that the content of a friendship has changed. I mean, you share in a diff erent way when you are Christian brothers and sisters. It’s so diff erent. Even though you think 76 chapter four

you are deep, even though you smoke joints and you think you talk about deep stuff , no you don’t, because you don’t share yourself. You don’t give yourself away. You do as a Christian. I’m very open. So immediately, that’s a big experience, when you come in as a new Christian, everybody says so. You sit around the table, and you’re talking about really important stuff . It seems like this new kind of friendship is deeper because they can share friendship in several dimensions, and because there is greater level of trust, Peter now can give himself away. When I asked him who his best friends were, he answered: My best friends are a couple called Anne and Jens. Th ey’re very important to my whole life around church and Jesus. It was in the summer, the fi rst time I brought Mary to the church, they have a girl called Kara, the same age as Mary. Anne said, “Why don’t you come and have lunch with us?”. Mary and Kara got along well. Once again, Mary plays an important role. Because their children get along well, the parents and their off spring have mutual benefi ts of each other. However, they also share a ‘common good’, Jesus: Th ey are my spiritual father and mother, really. Th ey have shared everything. All kinds of stuff ; it was with them I prayed aloud the fi rst time. Th ey are such wonderful, wonderful people. … You’re open and honest about everything, which is very diff erent, compared to the world. Anne and Jens have functioned as role models and caring advisers for Peter, even though the relationship was becoming more symmetric at the time of my interview: Maybe they started being there for me, now it’s a shared thing. Even when it comes to the Word of God, we can have some interesting conversations. Finally, this relationship is not only about common utility or a spiritual cause; it is also about enjoying each other’s company. Peter said that they get along ‘extremely well’. Politically, Peter has shift ed from the right and into ‘the centre’. He ended up sympathising with the Christian Democratic Party. Th ey’re rather in the centre, yeah, but my sympathy by then would be with them because they would be the only liberal party still having a moral/ ethical value package on environment, and refugees, and other areas. However, it is worth noticing that this happened before he became a Christian. I would therefore suggest that his church relationship persons – stories from copenhagen 77 has had few consequences for his political orientation. In relation to his professional life, the change may be more signifi cant. When I ask him what it means for him to be faithful to God in today’s world, he answers by referring to civic responsibility and ethical obligations in his professional life: It means that I don’t cheat in paying taxes… I don’t drink. I don’t lie. It’s very important to me to make up with people, Christian or non-Christian, if there should be something. I left the company. I used to be a director for that until December last year, and I had joined that company in 2001, aft er becoming a Christian and God took me out of sitting in my own little waste management and put me in another place, becoming a co-manager. I became director of it, and I built the company from seven people to twenty-two people, quite successful, and the old founder of it wanted to get in again, as he’d lost his job. Blessed are the meek, so I gave him my 30 per cent share and said, ‘Donald, your friendship is more important to me than this money, so here you are’.

Th e Future – Th eological Studies? It is not obvious that this business ethics rests solely upon his new relationship with God and the church, but it is clear that his moral practice has received a new horizon; the will of God. Moreover, his wish to live in the will of God might infl uence his future work situation. A few days before the interview Peter decided to take some theology courses at university. Where that would lead was still unclear at the end of my fi eldwork.

Peter’s Story – Analysis

Identifi cation Th emes – and Reasons At fi rst glance, it seems like the dramatic conversion event splits Peter’s story in two. However, this structure is not so obvious if one tries to identify long-term concerns throughout the story. I will suggest that Peter’s reasons for identifi cation with the church can be linked to four long-term concerns or identifi cation themes, that to some degree seem present in the whole story. Th e fi rst concern is linked to the theme of meaningful achievement. Th is is a recurring theme in Peter’s narrative. He presents himself as a man who likes challenges and as a man who stands out in the theatre of the classroom, as well as in the drama of business. He also describes 78 chapter four himself as a former ‘hotshot’, familiar with recent trends in management practices: In business, I had been around all the hotshot places to go, meeting all the hotshot people, being one myself, doing teamwork and coaching stuff , everything. I’d been around it. I thought I should try everything that would mean a challenge, so nothing in business would challenge me. Aft er his conversion he continues to present himself as a successful ‘organisational entrepreneur’: I became the CEO, and I built the company from seven people to twenty- two people, quite successful. It might be worth noticing that Peter has been nominated as ‘co- worker’ of the year in the church. So in certain ways the church also functions as an arena of achievement. Secondly, he is also presenting himself as a ‘protagonist’ who wants to make a diff erence related to diff erent ‘causes’. Th roughout the narrative Peter presents a drive to be devoted to ideas and to live for something ‘beyond’ himself. He also presents himself as ‘an intellectual’, searching for economic, political, and cosmological understanding. In the early stages of his story, this was manifested in political engagement. In a second phase it was, at least to some degree, replaced by a search for ‘causes’ in the business world, before it turned into a metaphysical search. Nevertheless, in the second phase, where he pursued ‘a lifestyle more than a life’, his affi liations with ‘business causes’ seemed rather loose, in the sense that they were exchangeable as he moved from one company to another. It is also worth noticing that the ‘business causes’ did not evoke a debate on important values in other areas of life, such as questions about the meaning of life and deeper values, for example, in his relationship with his spouse. To the contrary, the important questions that appeared aft er the birth of their daughter, and that created the crisis that led to their break up, seem to suggest the opposite. Th us, one might suggest that at this stage his search for ‘meaning’ seemed somewhat shallow, in the sense that the ‘causes’ may have added a kind of legitimacy to his quest for achievement and infl uence, but they did not provoke questions about ultimate meaning and ultimate ethical demands. As such, these images of meaning seemed to fi t into his former lifestyle along with images of consumption, such as that of having three cars for two persons, rather than challenging this life strategy. persons – stories from copenhagen 79

However, during the following crisis, questions about meaning turned into a question of life or death. In this phase a third long-term concern appears as ultimately important: his daughter. Th e birth of his daughter was an important turning point. In the following crisis the couple discovered a need for shared values that could ground an ethical upbringing of their daughter, beyond an association built on shared consumption. Later, Peter also discovered that ‘getting divorced was much worse than he expected’. In this tragic sequence of the story, relational concerns, and especially his concern for his daughter, seem to challenge his former priorities and his search for a successful career: Th en we had Mary, and I had an ambition to start up for myself, because it was suddenly not very funny to be in Rome in a hotel room when she would be starting to walk and talk and stuff . His daughter stands out in the narrative as a very important concern. It was the relationship to her that allegedly saved him from committing suicide before his conversion. Finally, friendships seem to play an important role through his story even if this aspect seems to have become more important aft er his conversion. I will suggest that all the four themes, in diff erent ways, contribute to his identifi cation with the church. (1) It is an arena for ‘achieving’ for a good cause, and (2) it is stimulating intellectually and existentially in the sense that is has given him new answers to questions about what to live for. (3) It also provides new ways of caring for his daughter, and (4) it opens up a new arena of ‘deeper friendship’ in the context of a new spiritual family. As such, his life-orientation is not totally new.

New Commitments and Virtues However, it is also clear that the dramatic conversion experience has created new concerns and themes of identifi cation. Th e most fundamental seems to be his basic commitment to God. It is this commitment that grounds his commitment to the church. His conversion experience also inspired a commitment to live led by the Spirit. Th is is interesting because Peter did not view himself as a ‘spiritual seeker’ prior to his conversion. In contrast he now sees spirituality and the presence of the Holy Spirit as an essential issue, determining whether he would identify with the church or leave it. Consider the following passage: To leave the church? If I would be moving, geographically, to a distant place. Th ere’s been many things that I’ve been dissatisfi ed with, and a lot of 80 chapter four

stuff that I’ve questioned, and we’ve had some troubles within the church. You know, the church is going through transition times. All the new people coming, and the church trying to meet their needs … and then maybe for a while forgetting the core values of the church…prayer, etc. You know, we are fumbling our way forward, right? To Peter, spirituality seems to constitute what a true church is. Despite his critical distance towards certain aspects of the church, his use of ‘we’ seems to imply that he has made a self-transcendent commitment to what he views as its core values; a community based on the ‘Word of God’, and the presence of ‘Th e Spirit’. He demonstrates this by participating actively in several ministries and in the internal politics of the church. I perceive this way of identifying with the church as a kind of ‘critical loyalty’, which might be perceived as transformational commitment towards the image of the ‘Spirit fi lled church’ (‘Spirit feel’ in his words), which may qualify as a common good, in the sense that it is God’s will - for the benefi t of all. Overall then, I think there is reason to suggest that Peter’s commitment to the church seems relatively robust. Peter’s conversion and his engagement with the church have also changed the way he approaches his earlier concerns. He is now ‘dealing’ with his drive for achievement, acknowledging that it has an arrogant shadow side, which calls for a transformation towards a more ‘kind’ attitude towards people in general. He also seems to have made a deeper and stronger commitment to his ex-partner, as well as to his new friends, based on his new understanding of both ‘agapic love’ and spiritual fellowship. Th e reference to agape seems to suggest that this self- transcendent commitment towards concrete others is simultaneously grounded in the larger horizon narrative of the Bible, and a concept of God’s will and love that seeks the benefi t of all. Th e ‘metaphor’ of spiritual parenting also seems to suggest that there is a third element of a common good involved in his friendship with Jens and Anne, even though it is also clear that he enjoys their company, and that there is mutual utility involved since their children play well together. In other matters, such as his abstinence from alcohol abuse, his civic obligations, his ability to care for his daughter, and his business ethics, a change has taken place that concerns not so much the content of his commitments as it applies to a new motivation and ability to honour these goals. He also claims that these commitments have had important behavioural consequences, both in terms of giving his share in the business to the former owner, and in terms of being transparent and open towards his friends in a new way. persons – stories from copenhagen 81

Th is does not mean that Peter is suggesting that he is completely enabled to fulfi l his new commitments. He admits that he is struggling in several areas and that his transformation by the Spirit is partial. He is still unable to stop smoking, and on the basis of his fi ght against ‘arro- gance’, as well as other shortcomings, one may conclude that his conversion has brought about new experiences of psychological tensions, as well as an experience of inner peace and well-being. Overall, I will propose that his narrative describes a signifi cant and yet partial personal transformation.

Vocabulary, Images, and Horizon Narratives What are the interpretative repertoires that provide rationale to this narrative? Above we saw that Peter, in the ‘second phase’ of his story, shift ed from the social democratic beliefs of his youth to a ‘more liberal view’. He does not defi ne this view as either liberalist or libertarian; instead he presents his beliefs as ‘more liberal’ or as ‘my own little philosophy’. Th e latter occurs in a passage that describes his fi rst enquiries concerning the nature of Pentecostal churches: Th e dictionary said something very important, that each church would be completely independent, not having any international organization, or even national organization. Each church would be a completely independent organization fi nancially. So I felt very much at home in such an organization, because that clinched completely into my own little philosophic thinking, about what went wrong in the world, and stuff . Th is passage reveals an interpretative repertoire that views individual independence as a key value, implying that each organisation and possibly each individual5 should have a large degree of responsibility for, and freedom to pursue their own welfare. Moreover, his career-moves and his lifestyle described in terms of ‘three cars for two persons’, as well as the vocabulary of being a ‘successful hotshot’, seem to reveal an underlying pattern of meaning which ascribes high value to success understood as career achievements, economic wealth, and material status symbols. Th e expression ‘my own little philosophy’ also expresses a sense of intellectual independence.

5 Th e term ‘world’ might also imply a larger perspective that includes individuals. Such an interpretation is plausible, in light of Peter’s individualistic approach to the church. 82 chapter four

Th ere are, however, several similarities between his ‘own little philosophy’ and what Bellah and his colleagues describe as utilitarian individualism – and the mode of selfh ood it inspires. Th is is evident in his preference for individual independence, his success and career orientation at work. Th is way of catering for the self by outer means seems to fi t in with Heelas and Woodhead ’s (2005) description of utilitarian life mode as well. Moreover, the key images belonging to this horizon narrative, show up in his story; the independent citizen, the self-made entrepreneur, and the successful manager.6 Although this mentality, according to Gundelach and his colleagues, seldom appears in its ‘pure form’ in the Danish context (Gundelach et al. 2008, p. 194), it probably is not as rare in the educational and social context of a business school, where Peter seems to have become infl uenced by this repertoire. However, during the crisis that emerged in the next phase of his story, his own personal belief system seemed to be in a crisis as well. When I asked him about whether he was still able to cope with his professional life as his alcoholism developed, he answered: ‘No, I was independent, you know’. Likewise, his philosophy was unable to provide him and his partner with a common moral horizon, as they were going to raise their fi rst child. On the contrary, their orientation towards individual success, achievement, and ‘the meaning off ered in the game of consumption’ seems to have increased the tension: Rebecca and I worked and she had her own career. I think you get the picture now. So we were quite busy doing our own things. Finally, the story of being ‘successful’ was also unable to provide him with a robust existential horizon as he was considering taking his own life in the later stage of the crisis. For this reason, I will suggest that the power of this interpretative repertoire was faltering even before Peter encountered the church. Th e fact that he started to move into the centre politically before his conversion may grant further support for such a proposition. Aft er his conversion there are still remnants of this language in his self-understanding. As we have seen, certain self-images (imagoes), such

6 Th e role of the professional manger is important because the modern bureaucratic organisation may be perceived primarily as a utilitarian corporation. See Bellah 2008 et al., pp. 39–46. persons – stories from copenhagen 83 as the successful organisational entrepreneur, still play an important role in his self-narrative, but I will suggest that these ‘self-characters’ have been incorporated into a new overall structure, or plot. Th e starting point of his new narrative is the sub-plot describing how God saved him from his alcoholism through a ‘Spirit encounter’. Moreover, since God has saved his life, he is presented as the ultimate concern or ‘hyper good’ in Peter’s narrative universe. By this I mean a reference to a concern or a good that is perceived as more important than other goods. Th e ‘fi rst’ theology of Peter’s biography is an experiential theology of God’s loving and liberating presence by the Spirit. Th is theology has undoubtedly emerged from his experience, but the way he conceptualises this, as a presence of the Holy Spirit as described in the Bible, implies that he uses resources from the Pentecostal theological tradition in order to understand its meaning. However, Peter’s ‘Spirit encounter’ also reintroduced him to the overall plot of the biblical narrative, which he now refers to as the ‘Word of God’. Th rough his Bible studies he has now started to interpret himself diff erently. When I asked him my opening question about who he was, he answered in theological language: ‘I am a child of God, and your brother’. Above we have also seen that he presents himself as an evangelist and teacher. Hence, the biblical story has become an important resource for his self-perception, as well as a new map of how the world should function. Th e latter point is latent in his present perception of individual freedom: Th at’s very contrary to today’s world, because this post-modern culture is the defi nition of not being faithful. I mean, people are surfi ng into diff erent kinds of groups or belongings, or whatever. It’s not freedom, it’s prison. I know everything about it. I’ve seen people surf into a certain subculture, then another subculture. I’ve been around it, I quite know it. I know it’s not freedom; it’s escape and prison. I mean, you can be so imprisoned in your own search for freedom. I know I’m free, being in what they would perceive as a Christian prison, probably. Th e expression ‘I’ve been around it and I know it’, may imply that he has re-evaluated a previous life view as too individualistic. Another new map of reality is the map of agape, which changed his perception of love and marriage, even though he does not elaborate much on what this means. However, at this point there is also an unre- solved point of tension in thinking. Because Rebecca is not a confessing Christian, he is ambiguous about marrying her if he had the opportunity. Th erefore, for this relationship his new repertoire is both 84 chapter four stimulating and somewhat restraining, and is not completely positive for the relationship. His new repertoire has also inspired a new perception of friendship. Anne and Jens are perceived as a spiritual mother and father. Moreover, Peter also sees the importance of belonging to a church, even though I fi nd a kind of duality in his understanding of a local church. On the one hand, he suggests that the character of church participation, in relation to a specifi c local church, is fundamentally voluntary, and that such churches should be independent. Th us, his understanding of the relationship between the church and the individual is still relatively individualistic. Th is perception seems to be grounded in a belief that God is the primary source of his identity and salvation, whereas the specifi c local church, at least as an institution or organisation, is understood as a replaceable ‘instrument’ of God’s actions. However, on the other hand he seems to see church as a spiritual community, or ‘Spirit church’. We have also seen that Peter thinks in terms of a common ‘we’. Th is ‘we’ is grounded in God’s will and the presence of the Holy Spirit, which according to Peter constitutes a ‘true church’. Th us, the church is also thought of as a spiritual community, grounded in the presence of the Spirit, which exists prior to any individual choice or organisational enterprise, since its essence and purpose are given in the nature of the Spirit’s presence and fellowship. Hence, there is a hint of a more collective form of thinking in this deliberation. Moreover, the authenticity of the church depends on the degree to which it is Spirit fi lled. Peter then seems to be ‘an organisational individualist’ and spiritual communitarian, at the same time. Overall, I will suggest that his old philosophy of ‘individualistic success’ and his practice of being a strategic career traveller have been partly replaced, and partly integrated into a biblically inspired interpretative repertoire, which has motivated new commitments and a new understanding of previous commitments.

Modes of Identifi cation and Participation It is worth noticing that Peter is reluctant to call his fi rst dialogue partners from the church mentors or coaches. One might consider these as ‘intellectual sparring partners’ rather than mentors, even though it must be admitted that they obviously also provided advice. Nonetheless, I consider it important that he wanted to approach these advisers ‘at his own pace’, keeping a sort of psychological distance. Furthermore, it is persons – stories from copenhagen 85 important to notice that he stated that he never ‘gave himself away’ in conversations with his pre-conversion friends. I interpret this statement to mean that Peter seemed to prefer a quite individualistic mode of refl ection, in which he guarded his inner conversation from being infl u- enced too strongly by others. I will suggest that this ‘mode of the internal conversation’ gives shape to his mode of agency throughout his story, for better and for worse. It may have emerged in phase one where he had to stand up in classroom discussions, and it may have contributed to his crisis if it meant that he kept his problems to himself, and distanced himself from his partner and his friends. On the other hand, it may also have protected his integrity in the next phases, giving him an experience of his choices as more authentically his own. It may also have provided a sort of ‘critical space’, which enabled him to develop what I have called critical loyalty towards the church. His conversion experience did, however, introduce him to a new mode of refl ection, which, at least in part, transformed his individual mode of his inner conversation. During the subsequent process of identifi cation, his decisions were made on the basis of an ongoing experience of what he perceives to be the Holy Spirit. Consider the following passage: I got saved, so I stopped drinking. Nobody told me, you know, and the Holy Spirit, is a nice guy. He’s very patient, so he just let me feel. I just stopped drinking, because I couldn’t feel Him. Th e Holy Spirit maybe showed me that in a new perspective. Th e perspective of ‘eros’ in contrast to ‘agapic love’. I didn’t know those words, but I saw the perspective and the wrong focus of being so occupied with your sexuality that you are not able to live a full life, really. Th e key element in this mode is his ability to ‘sense’ or ‘feel’ the Spirit. In the fi rst passage, Peter does not claim that he hears ‘voices’; it is rather a sense of feeling something ‘with the Spirit’ that makes him know what the Spirit wants. In the second passage, he claims that these ‘feelings’ may be accompanied by new ideas or by a sense of ‘being taught’ about a biblical concept like agape. Finally, because he was introduced to this mode during worship, one might also assume that it can have a communal dimension as well, in the sense of feeling the Spirit together as a Christian community. In the last transformative phase of his story, Peter seems to combine his former ‘independent mode’ of identifying with a more ‘Spirit 86 chapter four receptive’ mode. His remark ‘I couldn’t feel him’ seems to imply that the latter mode seemed to be somewhat unstable, taking the shape of a relatively unpredictable pattern of ‘peaks’ and ‘lows’. On the other hand, Peter’s account of the fi rst weeks also indicates that praying or going to church services could have stimulated it. I will discuss the ontological status of this mode later, at this point it is suffi cient to say that this kind of spirituality helped him to abstain from alcohol, and inspired him to reconsider his whole life. I will therefore suggest that this practice is a key mode of identifi cation in Peter’s narrative – and an important variable in the transformation process.

Th e Process of Identifi cation and Transformation Th is process started with his conversion, and this conversion was initiated by an experience of what Peter calls ‘the Holy Spirit’. Since he started to study the biblical narrative aft er this experience, and not before, I will suggest that it was an experience that led to a dramatic shift of interpretative repertoire rather than the other way around.7 Th us, Peter’s change of worldview was not primarily caused by ‘an inner philosophical dialogue’; it was rather stirred by an unexpected experience, during participation in a ritual. However, in the next phase it also seems clear that his ‘Spirit experience’ initiated other practices that generated a refl ective process. Some of these were relatively individualistic, such as studying the Bible and refl ecting on his concerns in this perspective, with a certain critical distance from the church, as a social context. However, even if he started as a curious, but ‘sceptical’ visitor, he soon moved on to become a ‘participating visitor’. It was his participation in collective organisational practices, and particularly worship, that facilitated his initial Spirit experience, yet they also contributed to the next stage of the process, since he returned in order to experience God’s presence again and again. Th is might imply that the church’s teaching may have contributed to the process, even though this construct is not explicitly mentioned. In regard to contextual variables, it is obviously important that Peter was going through a life-threatening crisis at the time of his conversion experience. In terms of socio-economic status he was falling out of his previous social positions, and may have felt a sense of alienation towards

7 Likewise, it was his care for daughter, his new experience, and the subsequent refl ections and wondering that initiated the construction of a new life story, rather than vice versa. persons – stories from copenhagen 87 this social context. More importantly, as we have seen above, his cultural interpretative schemes were faltering. It follows that the psychological- spiritual and organisational variables, described above, could play a dominant role in the conversion phase of his story since he already was in a kind of transition phase. Th e subsequent process of becoming a member was also stimulated by a wide range of dyadic dialogue partners within the church as a social context. Th ese characters seemed to have diff erent and complementary functions in relation to Peter’s inner dialogue. It is worth noticing that people in formal authority fi gure positions were relatively unimportant in the beginning, and that most of his dialogue partners were men, except for the couple whom he considered to be his spiritual father and mother. Interestingly, this ‘metaphorical family’ seems to signify a particularly important relational context, because it is here that he learned to ‘be open’ and ‘give himself more away’. Th is might mean that he also made decisions concerning his own life in a more cooperative mode of agency, since in this context he defi ned himself as a ‘family member’. Yet, since this type of conversation seemed to be somewhat new and limited to a few relations, one cannot assume that it had become a dominant mode of agency. However, there is reason to believe that this mode and growing level of trust to a larger degree ‘opened’ his inner dialogue with signifi cant others, such as his tutors and sparring partners. I consider it crucial that these dialogue partners respectfully accepted Peter’s intention of moving at his own pace, in order to protect the autonomous or self-governing aspect of his inner dialogue. Th is kind of respect and ‘psychological space’ was not what he had expected to fi nd in a Pentecostal church: It also meant a lot that he respected me. He sort of kept a distance and allowed me to narrow the distance as I wanted, and that is the feeling that I have in church…that they, contrary to my belief of what it would be like to be around Pentecostal people; they didn’t try to fool me, they didn’t try to drag me into something, but they were there. It was a very positive experience. I also read a perception of care and availability in the expression ‘they were there’. It follows that this respect and care created a ‘safe space’ for refl ection, which was decisive for the process; because it gave him an opportunity to reorder his inner priorities in a way that did not compromise his ‘sense of integrity’. It also built an interpersonal trust that opened his conversation. Th us, one to one leadership, in the form of respectful dialogue seems to be a crucial variable in this part of Peter’s process. 88 chapter four

Finally, in the last phase of his story, the church has also given him the opportunity to practise in the roles of being a Sunday school teacher and ‘evangelist’ in Alpha courses. It is worth noticing that the practice of teaching others also may be a powerful way of teaching oneself the Christian narrative. Moreover, as we have seen, these ‘self characters’ have become important ingredients of his identity, particularly the one related to his concern for his daughter. In these roles Peter has also been given the possibility of becoming a ‘contributor’, who now ‘achieves’ for a cause beyond his own success. Th is also applies to his modest role in church politics.

Personal Integration and Life Plot: Th e Spirit Empowered Explorer Hence, in terms of the question about transformational versus transactional participation, these are transformational roles and imagoes, in which Peter serves others and a cause ‘larger’ than himself. I will also suggest that his concern for the spirituality in the church transcends his own needs. As we have seen, the use of ‘we’ implies that he cares for the spiritual welfare of the whole church, and this care seems to have a long- term horizon, since he will leave the church only if it becomes unfaithful to its calling (to be and remain ‘a Spirit church’). At the same time, however, he is still ‘a receiver’ of individual goods, in terms of helpful advice, new friendships, and new possibilities to serve his daughter, as well as a sense of meaning through his contributions. It follows that his participation may be read as motivated by both transformational and transactional concerns. But which of these concerns serve as the integrating and ultimate theme in his self-narrative? His answer about his dreams and goals for the future may provide a clue: I really just want to be in His plan, and I feel very kind of satisfi ed. A big part of my emotional life has also been concerned with my former wife, Rebecca, who was never my wife. Because of having a child, you always see the perspective of being together as a family again. Th e fi rst sentence shows that he wants to live in God’s will, and that God is perceived as a kind of centre to which important decisions must relate. If God’s will is understood in the light of the interpretative repertoire that was presented above, this means that the Bible and his experience of the Spirit give shape to many strategic choices. persons – stories from copenhagen 89

One could think of his daughter as a strong candidate for being an ultimate concern or structuring centre, in her own right. His care for her has grasped him to the degree that she seems to be his most important human concern, and therefore a concern that could challenge the concept of God’s will, if a confl ict between the welfare of his daughter and God’s will was to arise. Nevertheless, in Peter’s narrative this possible tension is absent, for her welfare is connected to God’s will. Living with God and caring for his daughter seem to be one integrated life project. Th e church is closely related to this project, partly as a resource for his fatherhood and partly as ‘a spiritual project’ in itself. Th is does not mean that every aspect of his identity is fi xed. It is worth noticing that Peter is still experi- menting with new diff erent identities. Th e aff ective power of such ‘self- characters’ is evident in the following passage: I was sitting in my car, and suddenly I had this thought in my head, ‘Peter, you are a student of theology’. And I smiled and laughed. It feels good. It feels right. Nonetheless, I interpret this character as an emerging, yet fragile sub- identity, which relates to a more robust integrating centre; the conception of God’s will and the corresponding identity of being ‘a child of God’. Even if he still ‘travels around’, his conversion experience has given him a relatively stable centre, which provides such a journey with a purpose and direction. Overall, I will suggest that Peter’s story is a narrative of Spirit empowered healing and deliverance. One might suggest that Peter’s story of his ‘former self’ as ‘a self made man’ bears resemblances with a classic way of emplotment in Western literature (Frye 1957). McAdams (1993) suggests that romantic plots are basically focused on one single protagonist who embarks on a diffi cult journey, overcomes great obstacles, and triumphs in the end by regaining something that may have been lost; love, the meaning of life, success and glory. Unlike comedy, the romantic hero or heroine is bolder, wiser, and more virtuous than most others, sometimes he or she may possess supernatural powers. Romantic plots therefore celebrate the ability to change and rise to new and diffi cult challenges. However, this resemblance is only partial,8 since Peter is honest about his weaknesses.

8 According to Haydon White (1973), metaphor is the basic rhetorical trope of romance; the hero symbolises order, the enemy forces of evil. One version of the 90 chapter four

More importantly, despite the fact that Peter ascribes several relatively heroic self-characters to himself throughout the story; such as the successful businessman, the struggling but caring father, and the intellectual seeker, I will suggest that it is God who is the main hero of his narrative. God is a ‘higher good’ in his story and at the same time is a causing subject of his salvation (through the Spirit’s work). Th ere may be an element of cooperation involved in the story of transformation, but the main transformative agent is the person of the Holy Spirit, who guides and enables Peter to move from destructive chaos to a new life for him and his daughter. Th e move towards becoming a Spirit-fi lled evangelist may be read in light of the Acts narrative and the Pentecostal vision of a Spirit-fi lled community. In a more long-term perspective, I will also suggest that Peter’s story is a quest. For him the will of God is partly known, but it is also something that is to be discovered. What characterises a medieval quest, according to Alasdair MacIntyre (1985, p. 219), is that what one searches for is not already adequately characterised. To some degree, Peter is transformed from being a lonely intellectual seeker to being a joyful participant in a common theological journey, with the church, and even more so, with his close friends. Yet, the image of the lone seeker remains a part of his story, as Peter is ‘around’ studying theology on the Internet. Th is does not mean, however, that he is lonely. I will suggest that the title of the worship song that initiated his conversion story in many ways can be considered as paradigmatic of the story of his new life: ‘Holy Spirit follow me’.

Th e Story of Ruth

Ruth, who is Danish, had been a member of Pinsekirken for about half a year at the time of this interview. She was single and in her mid forties, and had been a part of the Danish ‘entertainment industry’ for about twenty years, when I conducted my interview. Aft er telling me her age, she said:

romantic plot may be associated with the area of romanticism in literature and philosophy. Th is version is built on the assumption that all creatures and things in the world have a true and deep meaning; the hero or heroine may discover this true meaning of their own being towards the end of their journey, so that an initial metaphor may in the end become a proper name. Th is is not dominant in Peter’s narrative. persons – stories from copenhagen 91

My name is Ruth. I have travelled a lot as a child. My father worked in the foreign offi ce, so I lived in the former Yugoslavia, and in France and in some other countries, before I came back to Denmark when I was eight years old. So I think that has infl uenced me a lot. I have seen many cultures since I was a child, and I have always looked for the values in life. I left my family when I was sixteen, and I have made my own living since then. Aft er studying in Copenhagen she moved to another city to complete her studies. In the next months both of her grandmothers died, and she lost her mother and little sister, in the sense that they moved to a country in Southern Europe: Within three weeks, they decided and left . I had a boyfriend who left me, and then I moved to another town where I knew nobody. And my sister got ill. She had a kind of breakdown and she wanted to kill herself, and I had to take care of her. Aft er half a year with all that, I broke down myself. And I was really afraid that I was going to go crazy or something like that. I was losing my mind. She says that the only sane thing that was left in her mind was like a camera that could just follow what was going on, but she felt she couldn’t do anything to stop it. Her aunt told her to think about the strong women in their family, adding that she couldn’t handle ‘another sick niece’.

An Unexpected Encounter It was at this time she ‘met with God’. She describes this as an unexpected encounter because her family was ‘not a Christian family’. One Sunday she had been on a demanding professional mission, which she had considered calling off because she felt very nervous. On the train back, she felt exhausted and psychologically overwhelmed by her problems to the degree that she felt that she was in a process of ‘going down the drain’. She also perceived that her senses started to ‘trick her’, and went out to the toilet hoping to ‘clear her mind’ in a ‘quiet room’. Th en the unexpected happened: So I closed the door behind me, and I saw myself in the mirror, you know how there’s always a mirror in the train compartment. And I saw myself, and it was like I heard someone - it was one question coming to me that said, ‘Do you want to live, or do you want to die?’ Th at was like, the issue. And without much thinking, I just thought to myself, ‘I want to live’. And the moment I decided that, there was a power that went through me like fi re or something, it was like, poof! All of this fear and all of these negative feelings left me like this [snaps fi ngers]. And, it’s like it cleaned it all up. 92 chapter four

When she went back to her room, she laid down on a mattress and cried for the fi rst time in many years. However, she also felt a strong sense of relief: I accepted my life, I accepted it as it was, which felt very relieving. And somehow I felt forgiveness from God, and a very, very strong feeling of God’s love. I think even now, it’s the greatest experience of love I’ve ever had in my life. And somehow I was sure that this power came from God, because it couldn’t come from me, because I knew I didn’t possess a power like that. As a theologian I found the term forgiveness interesting and asked her about in what way she felt forgiven. She answered: I didn’t feel a need for forgiveness. Not at all. I just decided I wanted to live. And apparently, that was enough. Th at was enough. I didn’t ask for forgiveness, but I felt ‘okay, I accept my life as it is. I accept it’. And when I accepted it, I felt forgiveness or like I was starting on even ground again. At the same time she felt afraid that she had become ‘really crazy’. She also felt that this experience was too much to understand or comprehend. But the strong sense of God’s love stayed with her for three days: But I felt I had the idea that this was what God’s love is, and that I was like a channel for God’s love. I felt also that when you are in this love, there is no desire. And I was twenty-fi ve at that point, and I didn’t know what to do with this experience, because I was thinking, ‘I don’t need a relationship with a man’. It was a very, very strong feeling of love somehow, God’s love. And it stayed with me for three days, and then it left me. And then I went into a depression that lasted for a couple of years. I was very, very sorry that this feeling had left me, I didn’t really know why. I felt very guilty that I couldn’t keep it. But I never went to any church or any priest, or anybody. Yet, even aft er the feelings were gone, the experience continued to give shape to her perception of life. As her friends in the entertainment industry pushed ahead towards their ambitions, she felt comparably ‘un- ambitious’. Even aft er she became famous herself, she sensed that her experience meant that is was more to life: For a long time I didn’t feel that love, I just knew it was there somewhere, but I had lost contact with it for a long time. It’s like I sensed that there were other values, that it wouldn’t be enough for me just to become famous. But on the other hand, I wasn’t very strong in what my values were then. I think they are still not very clear to me, but I am trying to make them persons – stories from copenhagen 93

clear. I oft en think I am still confused about whether I should stay in my profession or whether I should change to something else. She was afraid of sharing her experience with others, because she assumed that they would think she had gone mad. She was also afraid of being ridiculed by her colleagues. Hence, she felt increasingly isolated because she believed that she had experienced something that nobody else could understand. Moreover, having confl icts with and a sort of distance towards her family, she perceived herself to be ‘completely alone in my life’.

Encountering the Danish State Church – A Good Experience Turned Bad Aft er ending an unhappy relationship with a man, she decided to attend the local Danish state church where she lived. Some time before, she had started to approach astrology and other alternative religious practices, including the use of tarot cards. When she began practising, it felt like a playful thing to do. However, when one of her spiritual advisers told her that she should change her name because the numbers in her name had to correspond with the numbers in her birth date, she felt uneasy about it. She decided to change only her fi rst name, and to do this by becoming baptised in the Danish state church: Because many of the things she said about me were true, and therefore it made me scared, I didn’t have the nerve not to change my name. But at the same time it felt very, very unpleasant. I felt like, that’s the wrong thing to do. So it was a big confl ict, I didn’t know what to do. So for myself I decided, ‘Okay, I’ll do it, but I will be christened then, with that name’. It was sort of my own justice [laughter], or I don’t know. To say to myself that there is a power above this logic with the numbers. At the time the priest was also somewhat ambivalent towards this approach: And I talked to the priest there about it, and I told him my reason, and he said, ‘Yeah, you should actually go ahead and trust your God and not believe in these things’. But he said, ‘I’ll baptise you anyway’. Aft er baptism she started to attend the church regularly. She found a lot of new friends in the small community, and she describes this period of her life as a ‘great time’. She also found a kind of theological mentor with whom she prayed, talked, and shared her personal problems. Unfortunately, this man, who was married, fell in love with her. As a consequence, Ruth, who felt she was exceedingly betrayed, decided to 94 chapter four leave the small community. But even though she was disappointed, she also felt a kind of guilt wondering if she had hurt the community by bringing a sort of satanic presence with her: I see it as the work of Satan, because I entered his church with some of Satan in me, do you understand? It sounds maybe a little spiritual, but to change my name was not in God’s will. So I entered the church with this part of black magic, this part of evil, and it planted itself there.

Encountering Pinsekirken – Finding a Family of Friends For a while she visited several churches, but aft er a while she settled down in Pinsekirken. When I asked her about what attracted her to the church, she answered: It was the openness and the big community. Because what happened to me there in the other church, I also see as the result of it being a very small church, with very few people going there. Here, everything is open, and people also talk about their lives, as I did with my mentor, but we talk about it in bigger groups, with more people, and there’s less chance that these things could happen in a place like this. And that’s what I like very much. She also liked the fact that the church was multicultural, and that some of the associate pastors were from Africa and Asia. Nonetheless, she says that the ‘fi rst’ reason that made her commit to the church was the small groups. Ruth actually participated in two such groups at the time of my fi eldwork: Because I have no family, I have many of these needs, among others to have people close around me. I fi nd that here, so that is a very strong thing. And I also think it is a church where I can fi nd people who have had strong meetings with God, and to which I can relate even if their experience was not similar to mine. A third dimension that Ruth liked about the church was the expressive freedom of the church’s services, which included expressive worship and the freedom to be both happy and sad. She participated regularly in groups and services, and gave a fi xed sum of money to the church every month, before she was baptised by immersion and became a member of the church. I had already been paying money… I did that even before I was baptised here. It was actually one of the fi rst things I did when I came to the church. It didn’t mean that much to me, whether I was a member or not. Because I felt this church was doing good things, and I wanted to support that. persons – stories from copenhagen 95

At the same time, she chose to change her fi rst name back to her original name, to get rid of the ‘claw’ for good. As I said, in many ways the fact that this man fell in love with me, I see it as this claw’s work in my life. So fi nally, I talked to people here in the church about it. And I came to the conclusion that I would change this name back, I would get rid of it, and I got baptised here, [laughter] to clean it up. So I have done it very thoroughly now.

Consequences of Church Participation When I asked her if she perceived some kind of change in her life aft er she encountered this church, she answered that it had stabilised her life, and later she added, ‘It has given me new friends, you know’. When I asked her whether it had changed her perception of God, she answered, ‘No, actually not’. She was still seeking to know God better. Having started to study the Bible, she felt closer to the Old Testament than the New Testament, interpreting this as a consequence of being a beginner. She still found Jesus hard to understand: Sometimes it’s diffi cult for me to understand who Jesus is and what he did for us, and sometimes it gets a little complicated to really comprehend. So I hope, I pray, that I will see Jesus one day, and that he will really come into my heart. When I asked her about what she did to clarify her values, she answered that she read Christian books, as well as popular psychology and self- help books, such as Steven Covey’s Seven Habits of Highly Eff ective People. Even though she stated that her encounter with the church had not transformed her perception of God, her perception of people had been transformed, with a theological reference: Within the last years I’ve started to see God in people more and more. Like, if somebody is doing something good to me, I see it as this person doing something good to me, but I also see it as a greeting from God, almost. And if I have problems with some people, I try to see beyond that person, to see what is God’s intention with this confl ict. Does God want me to learn something, or is there something I could change in myself? When I asked her how this change had come about, she answered that conversations in the small groups played an important part. She didn’t feel that close to the leaders, although she liked them and talked with them occasionally, because she perceived them as overworked. 96 chapter four

Another aspect of her life that has changed during the last years is her approach to men: I don’t have a husband. As I began in this church, I had some relationships with men that lasted for a short time. I feel I can’t do that anymore, not because anyone has told me, but from inside, I’m praying for God to send me a husband and nobody shows up. So what is that? Th at’s one of the things I’m speculating about; does God expect something from me? However, she is afraid that the church’s teaching on not having sex before marriage may cause her problems if she meets someone who is not a Christian. But she didn’t see this as a problem at the time. Overall, she seems to be at ease with the church’s teaching and practice. However, on one point she feels that she has a diff erent view: Th e very strong emphasis on mission, and being a missionary. I’m not that strong on evangelism. Somehow, I think it’s sort of important to build up the community from inside. I think as we believe in God, we might reach the same results through prayer. Why not? [laughter] I mean, if we believe in our own prayers, sometimes I think there is a belief in these worldly marketing strategies and thinking, whereas I think we should believe in God’s power instead. But it’s not an issue. She also considers it important that Christians learn to love the sinners. At this point she says her thinking is inspired by the voice of a character in Dostoevsky’s Th e Brothers Karamazov, a Greek Orthodox monk: Really, that we are all God’s creation, and as Christians we should also love the sinners. And once we understand that we’re actually one being almost, then it will be easier for us to love everyone. When I ask what she perceives as her main responsibility in life, she answers that it is to be truthful to everybody. Truthfulness was also an important theme in her answer to what it meant to be faithful to God: It means being truthful to Him, I think. I try to be, and I’m not stable, to be honest. I think that’s how I pray, when I pray. I wish I would pray more, I’m not very stable in that, and I feel bad about it, but there you go. When I pray, I always start telling it to God like it is. I think that must be the fi rst step in any conversation. But then, I tend to forget God sometimes, just moving along with my life, and suddenly, ‘Oh, my God!’ When I asked her if she thought that this was diffi cult, she replied: ‘No, I don’t think it’s diffi cult, but I don’t have very many obligations, in that sense, in my life.’ persons – stories from copenhagen 97

It does have implications, however, for how she perceives herself as a citizen. In a phase prior to my fi eldwork, she had been receiving unem- ployment benefi ts. When she was investigating the possibilities of combining this with further education, her union told her that it would be illegal. However, they advised her to keep it a secret. Ruth, on the other hand, chose to be honest and rather lose the money, because she perceived tax paying and fulfi lling your obligations towards society as part of being truthful. Two months later she received a scholarship, a grant she interpreted to be a blessing from God. At the time of my fi eldwork, Ruth was very concerned about what she should do with the rest of her life, and she had asked God to help her. One reason was that what she was doing at the moment did not fulfi l ‘all her dreams’, because she had not managed to integrate her career fully into her faith: I feel, at this point in my life, it’s like I’m chasing two rabbits. I am trying to pursue this career, which I see as a worldly ambition - and I have this strong need to be close to God, and it’s diffi cult to put these two worlds together. However, a few months before I arrived, she was asked by the church to do something that could bring these together, in the sense that she could use her professional competence in one of the church’s ministries.

Ruth’s Story – Analysis

Identifi cation Th emes – and Reasons I fi nd four long-term concerns in Ruth’s story that are strongly related to her identifi cation with the church. Th e fi rst theme is family and community. I will suggest that she has been searching for an alternative family from the time she lost contact with her biological family. She describes her time in the small church as a ‘great time’, and she presents her friends in the small groups as a kind of family. Moreover, since this is the fi rst reason that appears in her reply to why she committed to the church, this seems to be a key identifi cation theme. She also enjoys the fact that the church is a multicultural community or, if one likes, a big family. Th e latter could be related to her biography and her history of travelling around with her family as a child. Th e second identifi cation theme of her story is her unexpected experience of God’s love, and the subsequent quest for a life in God’s 98 chapter four presence. Th is experience is an experience of God, but it is also a defi n- ing experience of choosing to be alive and of accepting herself. It is connected to Pinsekirken in at least two ways. Firstly, Pinsekirken encourages ‘similar experiences’ in their services. Secondly, in Pinsekirken she can meet people who share, if not identical, at least similar experiences, and refl ect upon them together with such similar others – in contrast to her friends from the entertainment industry. Th irdly, dialogues on spirituality are important, because Ruth has only partial knowledge of who God is, and what he means for her life. Th is is strongly related to a parallel quest for defi ning what her most important values are. I will suggest that her opening line, ‘I travelled a lot as a child’, is followed by a somewhat ambivalent analysis, which continues throughout her story. Her journeys provided her with an appreciation of many cultures, but as a life-form they failed to provide her with a guiding set of beliefs and values. Hence the comment, ‘I have always been looking for the values in life’. Finally, her narrative is also a story of deliverance from what she perceives as destructive forces. In the fi rst phase she entered a crisis that introduced her to the possibility of committing suicide. Th en, through her experience on the train, God delivered her to life. Th is was unfortunately followed by a new setback, when she felt a claw of black magic coming into her life. However, this tragic turn was followed by a new deliverance. Even though God must be seen as the main source of power and deliverance in this process, there is also an element of self- deliverance in this process, meaning that she used the baptism creatively as a means of deliverance beyond the theology of the churches. Since her fi rst experience of God, Ruth has been a solitary seeker and even though she has now become a member of the church, her doubts about whether she will live up to its moral standards show that there is still a sense of inner distance between the church and herself. Th e same applies to her church donations. She gives to it because ‘it’ represents a good cause, she doesn’t use the term ‘we’, so even if this is a transformational way of participation, it is very moderate in terms of taking ownership. Th us, her way of positioning herself in the world still entails an ambivalence of what could be considered a mix of voluntary communion and involuntary loneliness.

New Commitments It is diffi cult to identify many ‘new commitments’ in Ruth’s story that are inspired ‘only’ by her relationship to the church. However, her decision persons – stories from copenhagen 99 to give money to the church regularly may be considered such a commitment, the choice of becoming a member another. Th e latter commitment is, however, embraced with ambivalence since she is questioning her own abilities to live according to the church’s ethics. Ruth seems to be strongly committed to the two small groups that seem to function spiritually and relationally as the family she once had but has lost. Her commitment to the institution seems to be somewhat looser and more ambivalent. Yet, the commitment to the church may be seen as transformational in the sense that it is motivated by the assumption that the ‘church does good things’. I interpret this as a commitment to charity and Pinsekirken’s vision for the city, which may be associated with the common good of society. Th e choice of not ‘cheating’ money from the state, despite being advised by her union to do so, may also be inspired by the idea of God’s will, and the yearning to live by this will may have been intensifi ed as a result of her participation in the church.

Vocabulary, Images, and Horizon Narratives For this reason, it is not surprising to fi nd several interpretative repertoires in her story. I had expected to fi nd more conversion stories, like Peter’s narrative, in these churches. Ruth’s story, however, challenged me both on a descriptive and normative level. Her experience did not fi t into my previous ‘Pentecostal pre-understanding’, and for this reason I will use her case to show how the research process was a dialogue between my pre-understanding and my respondents’ narratives. Ruth is convinced that her experience on the train was an experience of God, even though it happened separately from a church, and from what churches defi ne as means of grace.9 She describes a kind of forgiveness, without having prayed for it in the name of Jesus, and without expressing a notion of sin as a state that separated her from God. Furthermore, even in later stages of her story and in the present she presents a heartfelt longing for ‘Jesus to come into her heart’, which is an expression Evangelicals and Pentecostals link to an early stage of

9 Her experience, however, provokes another question. To what degree does this kind of pre-understanding give shape to her experience? I render it crucial to acknowledge that both her experience and its meaning came to her as a ‘surprise’. For this reason, I will suggest that the experience represents a causal variable in its own right, in the sense that it has given shape to her subsequent understanding, beyond making previous tacit meanings explicit. 100 chapter four

Christian initiation. Moreover, she was baptised twice, but not for reasons pertaining to the core Lutheran or Pentecostal theology, and she hardly mentions the Holy Spirit in her story. It follows that this is defi - nitely not a classical Evangelical-Pentecostal conversion story. Since Ruth had participated in alternative religious practices, one could ask if her life view and theology are infl uenced by what Heelas and Woodhead (2005) call ‘spiritualities of life’. Alternatively, one could fi nd ‘traces’ of a kind of ‘self spirituality’, or a sort of theological immanence in her description of people as God’s greeting. Th e theme of self-acceptance makes sense within what we described as expressive individualism in chapter two.10 However, the fact that she says that she heard a kind of voice, diff erent from her own, might imply that she clearly diff erentiates between herself and God. Th is interpretation may fi nd support in her subsequent explanation, claiming that the experience was so strong that it ‘could not come from herself’. Th is diff erence is even radicalised in her subsequent narrative about how the feeling ‘left her’. Th us, the God of her story is primarily the mys- terious other, to whom she relates as a ‘you’ when she prays. Overall, it seems that her interpretation is more theistic than ‘pantheist’.11 Her God is fi rst and foremost a loving, accepting, and forgiving God, who stretches his arms towards all people from all cultures. Somewhat simplistically, one might suggest that this is a commonsensical theology that refl ects ‘Danish cultural Christianity’ (see Gundelach et al. 2008, pp. 147–153), but one should add that her ‘fi rst experience of God’ seems to transcend this cultural script, in particular in terms of it’s intensity and intimacy.12 Her theology is primarily a ‘theology in the making’ that fi nds inspiration in several sources.

10 However, at the same time it seems evident that the term ‘greeting’ is used in a sense that indicates that God is thought of as transcending the relationship, in the sense that he sends people into her life with an ‘intention’, manifesting him ‘through’ rather than ‘in’ the relationship. Th ere is no conception of God as part of her higher inner self. Th ere are some statements that can be interpreted in this way in her story, for instance, when she quotes the monk’s suggestion that we ‘are all one being’, even if she adds ‘almost’. 11 He is more ‘within’ her than ‘a part of her higher self’, and she relates ‘to him’, more than she ‘shares his essence’. 12 Bernard Lonergan suggests (1973, pp. 120–122) that there is a primordial religious experience of ‘God’s gift of love’ that also may be described in terms of a dynamic state of ‘being in love without restrictions’. Rut’s story could make a good case for such a proposal, but this notion needs further systematic theological clarifi cation, and such a debate is beyond the purpose and scope of this study. persons – stories from copenhagen 101

Her ecclesiology is largely implicit, but nevertheless complex. Th e church is a spiritual family of seekers, organised in small groups. She also celebrates its multicultural ‘size’, which makes it a large family, and the fact that the institution (also apart from her) provides charity. Th ere is, however, an implicit spiritualist ecclesiology in her story. She diff erentiates between prayer in the church and God’s presence on one hand, and ‘worldly marketing strategies’ (and her professional career) on the other. Moreover, in her story Satan seems to be an ontologically real spiritual power in confl ict with humanity and God, operating through specifi c spiritual practices. It follows that at this point, her theology and implicit ecclesiology is defi nitely more dualistic or charismatic, than humanistic or monistic.13 Her perception of ethics and relationships seems to combine diff erent interpretative repertoires. I read her emphasis on truthfulness and honesty as an overarching perspective, in the sense that her ‘key principle’ is to be ‘true to others and to herself’, in all areas of life. It is also worth noticing that she states that nobody told her to rethink her ‘relationship- ethics’, it came from ‘within’. Th us, her ethics entails an important element of subjectivity, meaning that being honest with herself seems to be a way of discovering norms for conduct. Th is approach to the self as a source of truth and signifi cance was less surprising, in relation to my pre-understanding as a sociological amateur. Ruth’s ethics of truthfulness seems to have a clear affi nity with what Charles Taylor describes as the ‘ethics of authenticity’, associated with what Bellah calls ‘expressive individualism’. However, her ethical discernment is not based solely on what ‘comes from within’. She obviously also refl ects on her ethics with others when she ‘shares’ her life in the small groups that, according to the church, are

13 She also presents a quite dualistic conception of the diff erence between the love she felt in relation to God, and her experience of love in relation to men. Her experience of God’s love is presented as both more pure, in the sense that there is ‘no desire in it’, and as stronger, in the sense that she felt no need of a man as long as the ‘experience’ stayed with her. Th is way of defi ning diff erent ways of love may have many parallels in the Christian and platonic tradition, exemplifi ed in the writings of Augustine. Th is similarity raises two important methodical-hermeneutical questions. First, does this affi nity mean that she draws consciously or unconsciously on certain interpretative resources she had inherited, being a part of the intellectual history of the Western culture? I believe that this might be the case, although it is crucial to acknowledge that such disclosures of ‘intertextuality’ primarily emerge as the researcher’s way of understanding the horizon of the other, through his own interpretative horizon. Th is hermeneutical application may nonetheless be valid, since the researcher and the respondent share a culturally inherited ‘life world’, of which they may construct diff erent confi gurations of meaning. 102 chapter four a setting of discipleship. She says that she looks for an equal sharing, so ‘it’s not either me or the other who speaks all the time’. Equal sharing may be seen as a form of mutual consultancy, but she seems to suggest that this is also an ethical principle that can be applied to friendship and romantic relationships. When I asked her about the most important qualities or criteria that she looked for in a man, she answered: If you can laugh together, there are many other things you can do together. But of course, I guess I look for someone I can trust, who’s trustworthy, and who appreciates the person I am, and recognises the person I am, and to whom I can do the same. If he isn’t Christian, I hope he will have the wish to become one. One may ask if these ‘ethical maps’ are primarily procedural maps, prescribing procedures of fair exchange of intimate feelings and concerns. As such, this ethics seems to have affi nity with what Bellah described as ‘therapeutic contractualism’, or Heelas and Woodhead call ‘relational individualism’ (see chapter two). Th e transformational dimensions of common goods, such as a shared vision, seemed not to be very important in her thinking on friendship and relationships. In this dimension it is rather the principle of ‘fair’ sharing and a search for mutual connectedness that seem to guide her life. In this sense, she seems to be more of a ‘communalist’ than a ‘communitarian’. Th ere is a tension between the ethics ‘from within’ and the church’s teaching. Consider the following passage: Because when I got baptised, that made me a member of the church, which actually says I shouldn’t have sex with anybody before I get married. Which I think may cause problems if I meet someone who’s not a Christian. But I don’t know. Now I don’t have anyone, so it’s not a problem. But I mean, that could cause a problem for me, for instance. I hope it won’t. Otherwise, no. Th ere’s some ideas in the church I get along with better than others. Not the teaching, but I think the very strong emphasis on mission, and being a missionary…is too strong. In relation to the Bible she positions herself as a ‘beginner’, possibly implying a status of a learner or apprentice. In relation to the church, I fi nd an interesting kind of ambivalence;14 she is critical of the

14 Research from another Scandinavian country also suggests that discourses on authenticity and truthfulness centre on individual consistency between ideals and behaviour (Furseth 2006, p.199). If this is the case here as well, the problem should not be framed, at least not only, in terms of an authority confl ict. It is not caused by Ruth wanting to become her own authority in the sense of standing ‘over and against’ the persons – stories from copenhagen 103 missionary focus, but she seems more affi rmative of its sexual ethics, even though she doubts her own capability of living according to this idea. She also wants to give money to the church because ‘it does good’, thus she is very affi rmative of its diaconal ministries, which might be perceived as a public good. Furthermore, when it comes to paying taxes and other shared norms, such as public laws, these are also acknowledged as guidance for ethical behaviour. As we saw above in relation to these norms, truthfulness means not cheating, even though it involves personal sacrifi ce. Th us, there are elements of deontological ethics related to public goods that seem to transcend her rather transactional thinking. Th is might be important since ‘truthfulness’ was perceived as one of her ‘main responsibilities’ in life. It follows that subjective and inter- subjective, as well as public, elements play together to give shape to an ‘ethics of truthfulness’, which transcends the question of inner authenticity. Overall then, her ethics is a complex combination of subjective, inter-subjective, and public approaches. Th is combination of individualism and a strong affi rmation of certain collective goods is not uncommon in Denmark, according to Raun Iversen and his colleagues. Th ey suggest that collective orientated individualism is characteristic of the typical Danish mentality (Gundelach et al. 2008, pp. 193–200).

Modes of Identifi cation and Participation Ruth’s emphasis on change as coming from ‘within’, and not because somebody told her to, might also be read as a preference for a quite individual mode of agency. Her experience of God’s love and acceptance introduced her to another, more ‘spiritual’, mode of refl ection, but this mode was not revitalised beyond the ‘fi rst three days’. It has rather been more important in terms of being ‘absent’ than present at later stages of her quest, in the sense that she has been searching for a ‘re-experience’ of this kind of spiritual union. Hence, through her story Ruth oft en seems to ‘refl ect alone’, but one may ask if it is so exactly because this is her preferred mode of agency.

church, or the biblical tradition. Th e problems may rather be that she, as a person who values truthfulness, feels that it is inauthentic to cling to an ethic which seems to be unliveable. If this is a correct reading of her ambivalence, it means that Ruth’s sense of authenticity is a way of experiencing oneself as one’s own subordinate, as much as it is a way of being one’s own ‘legislator’. 104 chapter four

I interpret her remark on ‘ending up completely alone’ in her life as a reference to an involuntarily, or at least ambivalent, kind of individualism. Th is means that even though her mode of identifi cation has been relatively autonomous, she has been searching for more cooperative forms, and seems to have found this in the small group in the church, where she refl ects with signifi cant and to some degree ‘similar’ others. I also read her quest for a spouse as a quest for a more relational way of ‘selfi ng’, although most of her relationships with men have been perceived as ‘bad relationships’. Th e tragic peak of this series of bad relationships was experienced in relation to her fi rst ‘theological mentor’. Th us, being ill-advised by one of her alternative religious advisers and betrayed by her fi rst theological mentor, it is to be expected that she will guard her inner conversation from ‘being taken over’ by others, but this choice is still, to some degree, an ‘involuntary kind’ of individualism, which seeks for something more.

Process of Identifi cation and Participation In any event, I will suggest that Ruth’s individual mode of refl ection, directed by her concerns, has been the dominating mode of thinking in the process of identifi cation. It has also given shape to her mode of transformation, which takes the form of a theology and ethics in construction. It is a very ‘open form’ of subjectivity, searching for intra-personal and inter-subjective understanding in small group relationships. Due to her previous experience, I consider it crucial that these groups are mixed in terms of gender. Th is creates what Ruth perceives to be a ‘safe environment’ for life sharing. Ruth positions herself, in her account of ‘the good friend’, as both a receiver and giver in such groups. Ruth’s refl ection is drawn from several interpretative repertoires such as self-help books, the Bible, the church’s teaching, and obviously the larger cultural horizon of the Danish context. Yet, the small groups seem, to an increasingly degree, to become the home or place where she is refl ecting on life, and defi nes her own beliefs and identity. If this is correct, she may be understood as typical for what Heelas and Woodhead call relational subjectivity, in the sense that she is coming to terms with her own subjectivity in relation to others, and helps others to do the same. However, Ruth’s religion is not ‘self made’, in the way that people construct a sandwich (‘smørgåsbrød’). Such cases are not uncommon in Scandinavia (Furseth 2006, pp. 138–139), but in Ruth’s case there are at persons – stories from copenhagen 105 least two powerful variables that created a theology beyond her own control. Firstly, she didn’t plan or facilitate the Spiritual experience on the train. It came unexpectedly, and gave her life a new direction. Secondly, her story also shows that relational individuality is vulnerable to model power exercised by experts. Model power emerges when one person takes the perspective of the other, to the degree that it becomes dominant or the only defi nition of the relevant domain or situation (Bråten 1989, pp. 106–115). Even though Ruth’s relationship to the ‘spiritual coach’ was without ‘organisational power’, the advice to change her name impinged upon her inner world in such a powerful way that it, at least to some degree, overran her own way of defi ning herself (the relevant domain). Faced with the coach’s worldview and defi nition, she sensed that she was infl uenced by ‘the dark claw’. She then made some theologically creative choices, but these were made out of desperation rather than out of a sense of freedom to choose. Finally, one might add that her fear of being ridiculed by her colleagues shows that social bonds put pressures on individual worldviews that deviate from ‘mainstream beliefs’. For these reasons, I will suggest that the ‘sandwich metaphor’ and the concept of ‘relational subjectivity’ have limited explanatory value in this part of her story. One might also ask whether there is an important element of model power involved in the process that led to a new perspective on sexual relations, since it took place aft er she had begun participating in the small groups. Th e discussion, as well as the ‘taken for granted’, may have infl uenced the choice that in the fi nal instance came from within.

Personal Integration and Life Plot: A Homecoming in Process It is worth noticing that Ruth did not defi ne many commitments in relation to what it means to be faithful to God. In other words, even though God is presented as an ultimate concern, she is unsure about what practical commitments follow from this, in terms of defi ning an overarching life project. I read her statement about ‘chasing two rabbits’ as an expression of being unable to integrate her career and her faith on a long-term ‘strategic level’, and in terms of day-to-day choices. For this reason, I read Ruth’s story as a quest for integration and as an ‘unfi nished’ story of a divinely orchestrated homecoming. It is in part a story about fi nding a home, and a journey of discovery within a family of friends. Her decisions to give money and become a member can be 106 chapter four interpreted as transformational commitments to a common good, but it is the small groups that function as a home, or as a centre in her life. In this family there is a blend of transactional benefi ts and mutual and altruistic care that create communal ties. God is nevertheless an overall self-transcendent commitment, which anchors a deontological ethics of truthfulness, and might give authority to the ethics (of the church?) that is mediated ‘through’ the small groups. Her new family of friends has made her life ‘more stable’, and I read this as a reference to a larger degree of integration brought about by these relationships. I also read Ruth’s life story as a narrative of hope. In classical terms, there is an element of tragic fate (rather than choice) in her story. Th is began in her childhood and youth when she travelled a lot due to her father’s work, and continued as her mother and sister moved away. Th is element is also vaguely present in the story from the Lutheran church; here as the ‘dark claw’.15 On the other hand, in some phases of the story, the overall plot seems to shift towards the structure of a comedy. In comedy, human beings are part of a higher organic unity, and loss of this order is creating defi cient relationships, before these are restored into a desirable state that integrates the characters. Th is gives the story a biblical U-shape. Th e heroes are typically persons who oft en get together with others in warm and loving relationships, and seek the simple pleasures of life.16 As such, the Pentecostal church might represent the whole she lost or never found in her childhood, and that may fulfi l the potential of a yet unfi nished (comic and biblical) U-plot. So even though there have been times when the overall plot seemed to shift back to tragedy, the narrative tone of the story carries what Northorp Frye (1957) ascribes to comedy; a tenor of spring, or what in more biblical terms one would call hope or renewal of life. She has found a community, and she is in the process of

15 Tragic plots, according to McAdams (1993), describe heroes who sacrifi ce themselves, or fall from grace in a way that separates them from the good (communal) life, or the natural order of things. Th e hero may have many good and even extraordinary qualities, but in the end the laws of fate or the unexpected overwhelm them. Th is turns the hero into an extraordinary victim. Th e leitmotif in tragedy is that we encounter inescap- able absurdities in which we fi nd that pain and pleasure, sadness and happiness, are always mixed. For this reason, our main task is to minimise the risks of life that threaten to overthrow even the greatest human being. According to Haydon White (1973), tragedy is built around metonymy. 16 Comedies therefore celebrate domestic love, community, and happy endings. According to Haydon White (1973), the key rhetorical trope in comedy is synecdoche, representing the whole by one of its parts. persons – stories from copenhagen 107 integrating her life to a new degree. Her hope is, however, a tested hope and maintained in a state of tension. Th is tension may be described in the last verses of her favourite passage in the Bible (2 Cor. 6:3–10): We are well known, but we are treated as unknown, we live close to death, but here we are, still alive. We have been beaten within an inch of our lives. Our hearts ache, but we always have joy. We are poor, but we give spiritual riches to others. We own nothing, and yet we have everything.

Th e Story of Pastor Marcus

Th e Calling Marcus is an ethnic Dane, who was in his early thirties at the time of my fi eldwork. He is one of the co-pastors in Pinsekirken in Copenhagen. When Marcus was sixteen, he was a promising musician, but had decided to make a career in the business world. He described himself as a focused and visionary young man, but then, to paraphrase his own words, God showed up and gave him a call. When I later asked him if there was a particular text or person in the Bible with whom he identifi ed himself in particular, he bluntly answered ‘Joseph’: I would say the story of Joseph, because I was actually pretty focused when I was a teenager. I wanted to have a career in the business world, and I had been a musician as my second thing. I played the drums and did a lot in that area. And I had a good job, and I was educated, when one day God showed up and gave me a calling. So the dream that Joseph had at seventeen, I got at sixteen. Marcus soon became a youth pastor. He was given a wide range of responsibilities, but he perceived leadership development to be the core of his calling: When I was a youth pastor, I was in my eyes nearly leading a church department, and had both the communicative preaching responsibility, the network, the social side of it, and also the events and the responsibility of building a leadership team and raising up young leaders. Th at whole deal of leadership development always played a very important part. Th at was actually the thing, I think, in my beginning years, when I was sixteen, seventeen years old; that was the major part of my calling. However, aft er three years Marcus had a burn-out experience, even though he had just entered his early twenties. In the middle of this crisis, he coincidentally spoke with Senior Pastor Jarle Tangstad and found the advice and counselling he was off ering to be very helpful. 108 chapter four

Th e Second Calling to Copenhagen - and its Consequences Some weeks later, when he and his wife were travelling through Copenhagen on their way to a vacation in Australia, he had a strange experience: I sat there and looked around in the city, and I said to my wife, ‘Th is is where we are going to serve. And God will call us here.’ And at that time I had no contacts with anyone [in Copenhagen]. I just had the feeling. When I asked him how he knew this, he answered: ‘I cannot explain it’. Some months later, Marcus received an external calling from the church board to become one of the pastors of Pinsekirken, and he accepted. When Marcus started working in the church, his relationship with Tangstad became closer. Marcus began to see his senior leader both as a friend and as a kind of spiritual father. When I asked him about what attracted him to his leadership, Marcus answered: I would say that for me to relate to a leader, it is important that they are tutoring, and think big. He (the Senior Pastor) included me in his dream, and in his heart it was not his ambition for me to be 100 per cent successful all the time, but he could live with me being in the process as a human being. And in that way, he overcame our fears, because actually a year before, I had a burn-out. So that was also a sense of, this is more than a boss. Th is is a potential friend and spiritual father. He normally asks the question, ‘What is your dream, what is your calling?’. I could sense that there was nothing in that that threatened him. He was able to actually believe in my dreams. I liked that very much, and that motivated me. His account of the leadership that was taking place in his former church is also relevant for answering this question: I had four years in the beginning of my ministry with a senior pastor and a leader who never corrected me, actually. He was an awesome friend, and he expressed a lot of encouragement, but I never had the correction of, ‘You need to work on this and that’. Th e only time I can remember was a time when he said, ‘Your visionary level is too high for this church right now’. And that was kind of, ‘oh’. And that is because his profi le is very much diff erent from Jarle’s. He was more of a teacher-pastor in his mindset. Whereas, from my point of view, Jarle is much more of an entrepreneur, visionary, and also a spiritual father in his way. Th ere are at least three important elements in this description of leadership. Th e fi rst element is the pastor’s ability to be a visionary and entrepreneurial church builder. Th e second variable concerns the way the senior leader is able to embrace the dream of his co-worker and persons – stories from copenhagen 109 support him through mentoring and tutoring. Th is dimension was new to Marcus, since his former senior pastor never corrected him. Th e interview also provided me with an example of how Marcus is being mentored. When I asked him about what he considered his greatest need of learning, he answered: I actually had a talk recently with Jarle about it, because I oft en tend to see my needs from one perspective, but he gave me another perspective. What I would say is to develop in theology and theological thinking, and management leadership. Th at’s the two areas I would like to develop. What he reminded me of was that one of my weak areas is counselling, listening, and personal conversation. And network, like building groups and stuff like that. And he challenged me, ‘If you don’t do anything about this before you’re forty, you will tend to just go for your strength’. Yeah, so actually I’ve forced myself now into providing some counselling, and I’ve done that now. Th irdly, it is important to Marcus that the leader cares for him and accepts him even if he is not ‘successful all the time’. It seems essential that the senior pastor cares for him as a whole person: For me, it has been like, he’s there in the crisis, and he is able to listen. I’m not afraid of telling him how I really feel. You have periods where you’re down, so he has a holistic view of ministry. It’s not just performing in the church. You have a family; you have a whole being that needs to thrive. Th is element of interpersonal care also builds trust in the senior pastor as a person. Marcus says: I would say I bought into the person before I bought into the vision. For me, I knew aft er four years that my leader had more infl uence on me than anything else. However, this does not mean that the content of the Church’s vision is irrelevant. When I asked Marcus under what circumstances he would leave the church, he answered: I think the day Jarle stops, I would need to stop as well, and say, ‘Okay, that was a vision, that was a leader. Now is another time.’ So if a new Senior Pastor came, I would stop and say ‘Okay, now is a new time’. I read Marcus statement as a suggestion that a new time would involve change in terms of both leadership and vision. Th e senior pastor is not the only person with whom Marcus identifi es. Being a part of a team was a key theme as Marcus tried to describe the 110 chapter four most important changes that have taken place in his life aft er he started to serve in Pinsekirken: But I would say, what has changed me is the team fellowship, it’s the size of the vision, the size of the job … What we oft en do is ask the question, ‘How are you, really?’. Not just, ‘How are you?’, but ‘How are you really?’. And I’ve always felt it was okay to answer that question honestly. I’m probably the type of person who does it no matter what it will mean to me aft erwards. I kind of open up my heart. And in that way, of course, I also get feedback. And at times, it’s been a kick in the bottom, you know. Marcus has considered leaving the church. Some time aft er his arrival in Copenhagen, he wanted to start an independent youth church. Marcus describes this intention as a ‘threat’ to his senior pastor. However, instead of dismissing Marcus, he tried to persuade him to think in terms of a multi-generational church. For more than a year, they had an open and yet tension-fi lled dialogue about this; a discourse that also included con- sultations with external experts on youth ministry: I had the vision of starting a youth church. I was a bit bored with department thinking. And that was a big threat for Jarle. I sensed that it was a huge thing. Because I’m the type that thinks openly, my thought was in confl ict with his. But the good thing about it was that it became a confl ict and discussion on principles. So he involved other people, consultants… So I would say the fi rst year or year and a half was very confl ictive. Th e result of the process was that Marcus decided to stay in the church. Some time before my fi eldwork, Marcus received an off er to be the senior pastor in another big Scandinavian church. Initially, he said yes, but then turned the off er down: But from the moment I said yes, I had a struggle in my heart, of sadness. I felt I did the wrong thing, and my wife did too. So we had to come back. So you could say when I now look forward, my love and vision for Copenhagen have not changed. It’s so easy for me to look at this city with love and see potential, and see harvest.

Th e Future When I asked him about his dreams and goals for the future, he answered in terms of this vision. He dreams about a church that is relevant in style, service, and quality. As I followed up with new questions, his answers also provided an interesting perspective on what it means to be a church for the city: A church for the city, and to develop the city, make the city a better place to live… I would say, has been the initiatives that we have taken. For persons – stories from copenhagen 111

example, to start a youth club that has made the crime rate in this area go down. To help start a rock ministry for schools. And also, I would say, being a family, a well-functioning family that is able to take care of its confl icts, but also being a ‘plus family’ for the area where I live, and relate to the parents and friends and the kids. Th e idea of becoming a church for the city might be a refl ection of the vision of the church. However, even though Marcus now works within the vision and theological paradigm of the church, he also senses a deeply felt tension brought about by his other commitments to his spouse, children and friends. Th ere are several reasons for this tension. Firstly, Marcus sometimes asks himself if he is getting ‘the most out of his life’: I would say my biggest personal challenge is that I want the most out of my life. And now I sense maybe the grass is greener on the other side, or I’m at the buff et and I need to choose. Th at is where my confl ict starts, because I want the full potential of it all. I think it’s most diffi cult to be faithful when you are analysing your options, because when you choose, you need to believe it is the best. Even though at this time in your life, it could seem like other people get more out of their life. And that could be fi nancially; it could be education; it could be the fun of life. In other words, as Marcus has chosen to work in a church, he has limited freedom to develop other aspects of his life and pursue other dreams. Secondly, this passage also displays a tension between his role as a pastor and his other roles, even though he tries to ‘create space’ in order to refl ect and to relax with his family: I need to have a day every week where I am kind of doing other stuff than I do in my work. I love to go to the library and fi nd books on diff erent subjects. It oft en gets into time management or leadership, but oft en just books on diff erent subjects, and I sit there, and I love it. It could be to work practically, at the moment, on my house… or I drive to Th e Sunset Avenue of our town where I have my special café, sit down with my notebook and write and eat… I also take my kids to go swimming, or I have a little tradition with my son and my oldest daughter that we go by bus to the city and just walk around there. Marcus claims that having personal time, and relating to his family as well as being with friends, gives him energy to fulfi l his task in the church. Nevertheless, in practice, the workload that follows from Marcus’ responsibilities occasionally prevents him from having such ‘time off ’. isTh usually happens in weeks when projects in the church reach their peak. 112 chapter four

Overall, he is struggling to have time to live as a Christian outside of the church realm. So far, Marcus has not been able spend much time with his non-Christian friends, neither has he been able to fulfi l his dream of starting a football school for children. For this reason, Marcus sometimes wonders if another job would provide him with a better platform for becoming an infl uential Christian: ‘From time to time, I’ve been wondering where could I infl uence the most – within the church or outside’. Th irdly, he also admitted that his visionary drive and ambitions have caused himself and some of his co-workers to burn out. My temptation would be to be caught up in the projects, without thinking about it. Th ere, I think you can really lose the new, postmodern person, because they want to participate and buy into the church relationships, I believe, not so much just for the work of it, but for the relationship of it. I’ve had some people coming back to me, that I have caused a bit of a burn- out, without me knowing it, and they have come back and confronted me. As I read this statement, Marcus understands this is a personal moral failure, but he also perceives it as symptomatic for a model of Christian leadership. Marcus suggests that in relation to the post-modern person, at least as he conceives him, this may be disastrous because ‘the post- modern person’ who wants relationships fi rst, is not attracted to a church that primarily off ers ‘projects’. Finally, these three dilemmas give shape to practical theological questions concerning the nature of Christian leadership in the post-modern context. How can a church that expects its pastors to spend most of their time leading organisational projects, meet relationship orientated people who primarily seek relationships and relational role models in all spheres of life? Marcus doubts whether traditional Free Church thinking is able to cope with this problem. For this reason, he suggests that there is a need for a paradigm shift : Previous generations had other perspectives in these areas. I think it needs to be a paradigm shift in some of these areas. Yeah, and I think the transition has already started… I am aware that this transition is very dangerous, because it could also end in a comfort idolisation, where you lose the whole idea of entrepreneurship, and you just end up being frightened to get into new things, new projects. You lose the whole drive. Th is passage also reveals that Marcus also fears that ‘new’ models of Christian leadership may end up in what he calls ‘comfort idolisation’. He hopes to develop into a person that can serve in a church, and still persons – stories from copenhagen 113 live in such a way that people can see the ‘person behind the project’, acknowledging that this is very diffi cult: Th ere, I see a major confl ict in the future, a challenge, on how to lead and be in front… and set the pace, and at the same time have a life where you actually are able to think, to refl ect, to meditate, to be a father, a parent, a friend and neighbour, from time to time.

Marcus’ Story – Analysis

Identifi cation Th emes – and Reasons When I asked him about what it meant to him to be faithful to God, Marcus answered: To me, that means to keep a secret place where it’s only God and me. To have that space in my life where God and I are together on a secret level. And also it means integrity, to keep being faithful to life principles from the word of God, and also to fulfi l the calling, and the job. I will suggest that the most fundamental theme of Marcus’ life is his relationship to God, and his sense of calling. Marcus’ commitment to the church is also inspired by his ‘second calling’ by God to Pinsekirken. In his description of the two callings, there is an element of God’s unexpected intervention. He had not expected to serve in a church, he had planned another life, and he had not expected to move to Copenhagen – yet God called him to do it. On the other hand, there is also an ‘open’, more self-formative element in this calling since he distinguishes between his calling and the ‘job’. At times there was a potential tension between them as he struggled to fi nd out how he should fulfi l his calling; fi rst in relation to the question of planting a youth church, and later in relation to the question of how to live a life that can infl uence the ‘post- modern person’. Th e second reason for his identifi cation is connected to this theme, which can be called ‘trustworthy leadership’. I will suggest that the phrases: ‘I bought into the person before I bought into the vision’ and ‘my leader has more infl uence on me than anything else’ have great heuristic value. It shows that Marcus himself is such a ‘post-modern person’ who ‘buys into the person before he buys into the project or vision’. Hence, Tangstad is a trustworthy identifi cation fi gure, who indirectly inspires Marcus to identify with the church. Th is trustworthiness is, however, based on more than what Marcus has seen and heard ‘in front 114 chapter four of him’, it is also based on what Tangstad has done ‘in relation to’ Marcus. Tangstad’s care is important for several reasons. It provides some shelter for Marcus’ more vulnerable sides, and helps him to be a whole person who takes care of all his important concerns, including his family. However, one should not overlook the actual and potential tensions in their relationship. Th ey have had confl icting views on the question of starting a youth church, and they may have diff erent approaches to the problem that Marcus frames as the dilemma of life versus projects. Th us, to maintain the commitment, these visionary persons need to handle potential and actual confl icts. Th e fi rst confl ict was solved by a combination of directive leadership and dialogue, giving Marcus a choice. As a result he chose not to leave the church, but was convinced to stay. Th irdly, I will also suggest that Marcus’ narrative on his dreams and goals for the future shows that the church’s vision to reach the city in a holistic manner contributes to his commitment, in the sense that the church’s vision now has become his own, meaning that he has also ‘bought into the vision’. Fourthly, because of Tangstad’s entrepreneurial, mentoring, and supportive leadership, Marcus is now able to develop into an important contributor to this church, despite his failures and inner tensions. Th us, this narrative is also a story of empowering leadership and personal empowerment. Finally, we have also seen that he identifi es with the church because of his relationship with his colleagues. Th is theme includes both friendship and personal growth through mutual mentoring. At this point, I think it is crucial to notice that leadership development was an important aspect of Marcus’ initial calling, meaning that these relationships can be understood more as a matter of transactional, ‘mutual benefi t’. However, as we have seen, there is also a theme of ambivalences related to this commitment. It is worth noticing that his status as ‘employee’ in the church seems to delimit his sense of freedom. I will suggest that there is an underlying theme of sacrifi ce with emotional agility, which follows from how he lives out his calling as an employee. As it is ‘now’, he sacrifi ces ‘getting more out of his life’ in terms of salary and education, and in terms of spending time with friends, family, and himself. Th e question is; what would happen if he found another infl u- ential job in the fi eld of leadership development ‘outside’ of the church? Could it be that this would make him a more attractive role model to the ‘post-modern person’ – and thus make him more capable of leading such people to Christ? In this perspective, his present organisational persons – stories from copenhagen 115 sacrifi ces are not only unnecessary or ‘old fashioned’, they are even counter-productive.

Vocabulary, Images and Horizon Narratives I will suggest that this problem, as well as his commitment to the church vision, can be seen from the perspective of at least three interpretative repertoires, all present in his narrative. Th e way he identifi es with Joseph shows that the Bible functions as an important horizon narrative for Marcus’ life, since his calling is one of his most fundamental commitments. But how is this narrative interpreted? Th e notion of serving in a church that wants to ‘reach the city’ with a combination of evangelism and social concerns can undoubtedly be read in the light of Pinsekirken’s vision and the Free Church tradition. Th is tradition may also have infl uenced the way Marcus perceives Joseph as a role model for leadership. Th e image of a devoted and unselfi sh pastor can be found in the following passage: I’m pretty humble in that way though, salary-wise. I am from a background where my biggest problem in the fi rst three, four years of my ministry was that I didn’t feel that I deserved the salary. It was a very small amount of money. I felt it was kind of ‘holy money’, if you could say so. Th is passage also adds a ‘virtue’ of economic humbleness to this self- character that Marcus seems to embrace with an increasing level of ambivalence. Marcus knows that this can be viewed diff erently. It is worth noticing that Marcus chooses leadership and management books when he visits the library. Such books may provide an alternative perspective on leadership and life. I will suggest that his description of his senior leader and the church as ‘visionary’ and ‘entrepreneurial’, as well as his preference for ‘the size’ of the vision may receive its rationale from a discourse that emphasises successful organisational development. Th e issue of size can also be read as a reference to a biblical idea of church growth or ‘fruitfulness’, but I will suggest that this perception is combined with the logic of organisational success, portrayed in the management literature Marcus refers to. Th us, his tendency to work hard may also be inspired by the self-character of a successful organisational leader. Th ere is, however, a strong tension between this self-character’s focus on ‘organisational projects’ and what he describes as ‘authentic living’. Th is terminology can be seen in relation to ‘expressive individualism’, 116 chapter four but at this point it might be fruitful to add that during my fi eldwork I noticed that Marcus has several friends who associated themselves with the so-called ‘emerging church movement’. I also participated in a seminar co-hosted by Marcus and one of these friends, who clearly stated that the church needs a paradigm shift in order to lead the ‘post-modern person’ to Christ. Th us, the image of what Marcus refers to as ‘the post-modern person’ may also be mediated through peer- relationships in pastoral networks outside the church. When I asked Marcus about how he perceived authority, and for what reasons he chose to be led by someone, he answered: It’s life, very much life. I can be inspired by talent and competence, but I don’t follow that unless I sense heart-to-heart, a genuine care and love. But I see wholeness, and authentic living, authentic personality. Th en they can be broken, they can even be having their breakdowns, and they can have their funny sides, and maybe even brighter talent in some areas. I get fed up with leaders that become too much machine, where you lose your identifi cation, because you just sense that they are a machine. Th e leader ‘as a whole and authentic person, not just as an organisational machine’ is an important aspect of this third interpretative repertoire. In this perspective, the authenticity of a person is validated through care and love, but not only in the organisational realm. Th e authentic and holistic person is a good father and friend, and has time to refl ect upon and enjoy life, as well as developing himself as an individual. Moreover, from the perspective of the ‘post-modern person’ constructed by Marcus, to whom Marcus wants to be relevant, it is this type of character that is the most attractive role model. Th us, when it comes to life strategies, this third repertoire challenges both the Free Church traditions and the discourse on organisational success by prescribing a more holistic life project. However, Marcus acknowledges that he is part of socio-cultural systems that leave him with little freedom to set his life on such a course, as long as he serves as pastor. For this to happen, the church must undergo a paradigm shift with regard to how it views ministry and the main responsibilities of its leaders. Th e confl ict ‘between life and project’ can also be read as a confl ict between two aspects, or perhaps two models of transformational leadership. One aspect is direct, in the sense that the leader primarily serves others face to face. Th e other is indirect, in the sense that the leaders primarily serve others through the cause of projects. Obviously, both aspects are a part of organisational persons – stories from copenhagen 117 leadership; what Marcus considers is a radical shift in the balance between them.

Modes of Identifi cation and Participation As we have seen, the fusion of these interpretative repertoires and its respective self-characters provoke an interesting and rich conversation in Marcus’ inner world. His refl ections on how the church functions in relation to the ‘post-modern person’ show that Marcus maintains a certain refl ective distance concerning the church, and is partly capable of seeing himself and the church from a systemic ‘third-person’ perspective which integrates his own (fi rst-person) perspective and the perspective of the virtual (other) ‘post-modern person’. He also connects this process to larger systems, such as that of the (post-modern) culture and the Christian meta-story. His narrative also implies that having time for inner dialogues is very important to him. Even though he works closely with his colleagues on a daily basis, I will suggest that Marcus’ defi nition of faithfulness to God, as well as weekly trips to the library and to his favourite café, where he does his reading, indicate a strong need for a kind of distance, which enables him to refl ect on his life and on his relationship with the church. When he is able to create such an inner or refl ective space, he oft en becomes very creative: When I’m really relaxed, I start to get visions and dreams. So aft er Christmas and summer vacations, I start off the year with a notebook fi lled. However, Marcus also seems to be meta-refl ective in the sense that he oft en thinks about his thinking. His refl ections on the dangers of becoming caught up in projects on the one hand, and becoming too compla- cent on the other, demonstrate self-critical and holistic thinking. For this reason, his inner conversation can also be an arena of inner battles. Aft er thirteen years in ministry, how he views himself in his inner dialogue is what he perceives as his biggest struggle: Th e calling that Joseph got at seventeen, I got at sixteen. And then I actually feel my story has been in diff erent halls and prisons, I put myself in them, through ‘workoholicism’. You could also say, through my inner dialogue, binding myself up as a person. Out of thirteen years of experience in leadership, it’s funny to me that the biggest struggle is not as much the challenges, the jobs, the tasks, but it’s how you view yourself. It’s the inner 118 chapter four

dialogue with yourself. It’s giving yourself, losing yourself, and saying, ‘Hey, I can do this, and risk becoming a failure’. If you don’t dare to do that, you end up in a hall where you sit and feel sorry for yourself. Interestingly, his sense of dread and the risk of becoming a failure seem to be related to fundamental existential and theological questions, since the problem, ‘Am I capable of becoming what I should become?’ follows from the basic question, ‘What should I do with my life?’ In Marcus’ case this could be phrased, ‘Can I become the leader God has called me to be?’ It is worth noticing that the expectations of others add pressure to this question, but this is not the main issue. Th e main issue is his own perception of his own capabilities. In relation to the process of identifi cation, this means that Marcus’ reasons for identifying with the church are not only challenged by questions concerning the validity of his life strategies. Th ey are also challenged by a fundamental questioning of his capabilities. How does he deal with this kind of anxiety? I will suggest that several answers are given in the following passage: When I feel symptoms of anxiety, I sometimes, during the night, can sit up and write, and just write letters to God, or refl ections of my life, or if it’s tension I feel from the surroundings, expecting something from me that I cannot aff ord, that I cannot live up to, I write what it is and I deal with it in prayer writing. But also I would be open to other people about it – my wife, Jarle, my leader, other people close to me. In one sense, the basic answer is individual courage, understood as dar- ing to try despite the risk of ‘becoming a failure’. On the other hand, he also acknowledges that he, at least at times, cannot fi nd such resources within his inner conversations. Th us, he must open up his inner conversation to signifi cant others and to God, by writing prayers. Th is situation may shed light on why it is so important that Tangstad believes in his dream. In his relationship with his spiritual father, Marcus is inspired to believe, and can act courageously despite his inner battles. However, it might be important to notice that ‘trust and courage’ are not the only virtues involved in this process. Above we also saw that for Marcus it is important to be accepted, even if he is not ‘successful all the time’. Th us, both in his relationship with his spiritual father and in his ‘secret’ relationship with God, there seems to be an important interplay between being ‘empowered to act’ and being accepted even in a ‘state of failure’. It is not likely that he could move to a phase of being empowered if he had not felt accepted in phases of failure. For this reason, I will suggest that it is crucial that these signifi cant others allow and enable persons – stories from copenhagen 119

Marcus to live with and accept both phases of the self in his inner conversations. It follows that Marcus to some degree depends on others, in order to maintain an operational commitment to his calling and to his church. Moreover, when it comes to important decisions such as moving to or moving from a particular church, he follows what he senses that God has called him to. He describes this in terms of a deep ‘feel’ for what God wants him to do. Hence, this mode of decision-making seems to be relatively similar to what I have called ‘the Spirit receptive mode’ above.

Th e Process of Identifi cation and Transformation Most of the identifi cation process is already described. Th e same can be said about his mode of participation. Marcus is a servant leader who contributes to the vision of a church for the city, sacrifi cing much of his time and energy to the organisation. Th e process of becoming such a leader started with his ‘two callings’ and has been stimulated by the church’s vision, his colleagues, and most importantly, by the trustworthy and empowering leadership of his senior pastor. We have also seen that this process is more or less constantly challenged by several dilemmas that can be solved diff erently by the diff erent interpretative repertoires, some external to the church’s traditions, such as ‘management theory’, and the discourse on postmodernity in the emerging church movement. In relation to the tension that I have described as the dilemma of life-versus-project, I will also add another observation. I will suggest that this dilemma has a socio-material aspect as well. Since Marcus is a father, he has a responsibility for contributing to the economic-material welfare of his family. Just prior to my fi eldwork, he had bought a house and had been confronted with the fact that the market economy doesn’t give special off ers to idealists, or people who accept low salaries because they perceive it as ‘holy money’. Th is has obviously contributed to his sense of ambivalence towards his status as a pastor.

Personal Integration: Life Plot : A Leader Called to Serve I will suggest that the story and refl ections presented above imply that Marcus’ relationship with God and his calling are his most fundamental commitments and that other commitments, including his commitment to the church and his family, may be perceived as related to this narrative 120 chapter four centre. Th e calling, and the sacrifi ces that come with it, is certainly a transformational commitment which has important consequences for Marcus’ life. Th is calling has also led to a time-consuming ministry in the church. Hence, I perceive his story primarily as a narrative of a calling to be a leader. Th is could be interpreted in romantic terms, but rather than drawing from the pool of Greek literary forms, I will suggest that it is more fruitful to read this story in the light of the biblical typology of a prophet calling, which also includes prophetic suff erings. Th e narrative of Joseph, proposed by Marcus himself, may sketch an overall plotline of his story. Th e story of Joseph has twists and turns like Marcus’ life; he is partly a lonely prophet who struggles in prison, but he ends up as an infl uential and communal leader. It is worth noticing that this story is ‘emplotted’ theologically. Th e key hero in this narrative is God, who enables and blesses those He calls. Th is plot of a calling is the fi nal source of Marcus’ hope. persons – stories from copenhagen 121 ) Continued ( study). er Bible marriage/family, also marriage/family, new to virtues of linked communication. and care ‘sex- no more business; also experience marketing’, of new ability of (Tony entrepreneurship became self employed aft (tithing). missions church/ testimony to God. * New importance of of importance New * in ethical standards New * to money Giving * Being as a good citizens * ‘New’ commitments/virtues ‘New’ nds church church nds cation cation er to beto male-dominated. commitment to God to commitment Bible personal (from studies). ministries – a mission help to calling and missionaries has missions to contribute aft emerged participation. * New integrating integrating New * serve to in Opportunity * fi Mia Tension: * ‘New’ identifi ‘New’ themes ey ey Other Voices from Copenhagen from Voices Other rst encounter encounter rst rst encounter, later they later encounter, rst cation themes cation felt a sense of friendliness a sense of in felt their fi developed friendships. have narrative became their horizon became their horizon narrative a friend, through narrative, they encountered before Pinsekirken. the she liked the church with describes and this as a music, experience. spiritual good and Overall/ initial Overall/ initial identifi * Horizon narrative – the biblical – the biblical narrative Horizon * her fi – In Music * friendliness – Th Friendship, * erent alternative alternative erent Danes, aged 31–35. aged Danes, is self employed. and through searching diff practices. religious Table 2. Table Copenhagen from Other stories and Name background Mia and Tony and Mia *Female/Male/ Married. ethnic Both are * converts. * Previous degree has a Uni. He * is studying. * She 1–3 * Attendance: years. had beenShe * 122 chapter four share God society. with share that people to profession) social security system who (yet support doesn’t struggling are economically). cohabitation. ried of instead others (rooted in a new (rooted others self-respect/sense of self-worth). family/friends/colleagues, become a leader in Alpha group. friendships. * Holistic evangelism – evangelism Holistic * (in care free Gives * mar- get to motivation New * * New ability to care for for care to ability New * God with share Evangelism: * deeperA sense of * ‘New’ commitments/ ‘New’ virtues cation cation erent erent cation cation loving. me and (Godlife. loves succeed in me to ‘wants life’). qualities that make them make that qualities identifi attractive; is pastor (female images model). role important God. marriage’, before ‘sex on homosexuality. and integrating life. integrating * New image of God of image as New * as a good life Christian * * People with passion for for passion with People * teachings church Tensions: * * New commitment to God to commitment New * diff Leaders have * ‘New’ identifi ‘New’ themes cation themes cation er 9/11, 2001. herself, versus anxiety and fear – fear – and anxiety herself, versus security need for urgent an felt aft She was searching for self-worth for was searching She self and loneliness (versus that found and contempt), was helpful. teaching Tangstad’s the when attending in church in her youth). church state friendliness,kind of which made home. her feel at but with a relative who had been a relative with but the the end of about preaching in the last days.) world Overall/ initial Overall/ initial identifi * Seeking peace God with and * Christian, as a nominal up (Grew * * Search for sense of self-worth. sense of for Search * ‘something’ God (felt for Search * a – she was sensing Friendliness * .) Cont with Uni. degree. Uni. with 3–5 years. has a Uni. degree. has a Uni. 1–3 years. Nina * Female/Single. 31–35. * Age: * Danish. convert. * New Physiotherapist * Attendance: * Name and and Name background Table 2. Table ( Regine * Female/Single. 36–40. * Age: * Danish. convert. * New technician: Dental * Attendance: * persons – stories from copenhagen 123 ) Continued ( in planning priority rst to church as an important important as an church to life. of part evangelism’. abandoned - Has thinking: absolutist his former to alcohol.approach commitment especially kindness’, fundamentalist towards he whom Muslims, ‘hated’. previously in Denmark. ‘foreigners’ * Ownership of vision of Ownership * commitment old of renewal – * Tithing. bold in ‘relational More * Less black-and-white * * God integrating God integrating * – fi way His – follows and ‘tolerance New * * Evangelism. healing. receive others * Help other help to Wants * nds leaders to be trustworthy (honest (honest be trustworthy transparent). and aesthetics, professionalism, versus quality overall and being about embarrassed with church previous non-believing friends. that he has a good life that in the church. Christian faith). Christian life share to fellowship struggles in God (already had good friends). life. to relevant models role trustworthy (true Christians, polite). cosmopolitan, * Quality – ‘proud’ of of – ‘proud’ Quality * * Feels at home – senses home at Feels * Leaders – fi * * God in Jesus (newGod in Jesus * a Christian Wants * teaching Finds the church * Leaders are – priests * rst time. rst a rmed by calling over life. Received a Received life. over calling PK - confi from calling friends in church. prophetic word, in Norway. word, prophetic strategy. courageous new and and the fi the church visiting during life crisis, got job back. crisis, got life during had Pinsekirken, encountered work to ability and job, lost wife, injury. back to due /music/healings. atmosphere and as a multiethnic church friendly of community tolerant people. * Calling – has felt a sense of a sense of Calling – has felt * good – has found Friendship * * Attracted by the church’s vision vision the church’s by Attracted * when he was the Spirit Felt * * God (Muslim faith, initially). faith, * God (Muslim healing Experienced physical * crisis when in a life he Was * – spirituality by Attracted * sees the Friendliness/tolerance, * Free Church. Free level. years. years. country Arab from fundamentalist with government. Muslim John Married * Male/ in another up Grew * 31–35. * Age: * Norwegian. in church. * Works Masters degree, Uni. * 3–5 Attendance * Mahmoud Married. * Male/ 36–40. * Age: origin. * Of Arab trainer. * Sports * MA degree. convert. * New 3–5 Attendance: * refugee Political * 124 chapter four from ‘the world’. ‘the from thinking (changing with with (changing thinking church): society. her through evangelism ministry. * Less black-and-white Less black-and-white * less strictness/isolation – for responsible More * for Responsibility * ‘New’ commitments/ ‘New’ virtues cation cation rst years (handling (handling years rst icts). foundation for/centre of of for/centre foundation life. of extension missional Kingdom. God’s leader as a young support in the fi confl * Sense of home – church is – church Sense home of * – sees as a vision Vision * of – sensed a lack Tension * ‘New’ identifi ‘New’ themes cation themes cation Overall/ initial Overall/ initial identifi sense of calling, given an an given calling, sense of serve to in teenager opportunity ministry. in the church. age same at people concerns. * Calling – moved to PK with a PK with to Calling – moved * meet young to – liked Friendship * important are worship and Music * .) Cont ( years. Linda Single * Female/ 25–29. * Age: * Danish. in church. * Works convert. * Previous 3–5 Attendance: * Name and and Name background Table 2. Table chapter five

PERSONS – STORIES FROM LONDON

Introduction to the Chapter

In this chapter I will present three of my respondents from London through an in depth analyses of their story. A table that briefl y presents the other respondents from Hillsong will follow, in the fi nal part of the chapter. Parts of the stories of these respondents will be described and analysed from chapter six onwards.

Th e Story of Brittany

Brittany is a young British woman in her early thirties who has a four- year education in business and management. At the time of my interview she had attended the Hillsong church in London for four years. She grew up in what she describes as a caring family in a small English town, where most of her social life revolved around a small Baptist church: My experience as a young person and teenager in church was fantastic… And I guess growing up the way I did, I was actually kind of quite shel- tered… I don’t think I thought through my own choice, I just had all my friends in the church, and my life revolved around that. I actually wasn’t interested in anything else.

Th e University Years – Challenging Her Previous Beliefs For this reason, Brittany experienced a shock when her social context changed as she moved to study in one of England’s largest cities. Th e social game she encountered at the university was of a very diff erent kind: When I got to the University, it was a big shock to the system. For the fi rst couple of years, I think I retreated and just thought, ‘Ah, this is a bit scary, oh, my goodness’… I guess just the whole social scene revolved around lots of drinking, as most universities do… and lots of other stuff , really. 126 chapter five

Brittany describes her early time at the university as a struggle to ‘fi t in’, and aft er a while she ‘gave in’: I had a kind of mad year or two, living the life that everybody else was living, but the whole time something in me knew that I was never comfortable in the whole at that time, within myself and my conscience… I was blocking out the voice of my conscience, and the only way I could have real fun was to actually try and do that. And of course, you never really can. Brittany started to ‘party’, but in order to do that she had to ‘block’ her own consciousness: She also stopped reading the Bible, because she felt it was too ‘confronting’. Th is chain of events started an inner conversation on ‘who she really was’. As soon as she fi nished university, she went home to conclude her inner conversation in the context of her family and friends. She is describing this as a desperate quest in search of an answer to what she wanted in life: I got to the end of that year, and I thought, ‘I’m so glad I’m at the end of university, because I really need to sort my life out.’ I summered at home, back with Mum and Dad, trying to work out what I wanted in life, and whether or not my faith and relationship with God was something that was really real. I kind of went through this whole period, and all my friends were really supporting me, and to be honest, I think I was wrapped up in a lot of emotional feelings and guilt and stuff .

Rededication and Spirit Encounter At that time, her sister announced that she was going to move to live in Sydney, Australia. To Brittany this was an emotional blow because she felt closely attached to her sister. However, she decided to visit her sister in Sydney and ended up attending meetings in the Hillsong Church. As she was listening to Bobbie Houston preaching, Brittany started to think about a prayer that she had been praying during her journey to Sydney: I got to Hillsong, and I remember hearing Bobbie speak about apathetic Christianity… I can remember praying on the plane that if God really wanted me to follow Him, then He was going to have to tell me and make it clear… Bobbie said this thing about ‘apathetic Christians that turn her stomach’, and I remember thinking, ‘Look at her, she’s amazing, she’s so passionate. I want to be like that, I want to be a Christian like that.’. Th at evening, Brittany made a decision to live as a Christian. She described her re-dedication in Sydney as her fi rst cognisant decision as an adult, to ‘do life with God’: It was actually me making a decision as an adult, me and God, to basically do life together, and almost before that, because I think I’ve been in an persons – stories from london 127

environment that’s great. A great, healthy church… But it was almost like it was just something that you took for granted. In the next few days she ‘immersed herself’ in the teaching of the Hillsong Church. She studied her own notes and read the Bible. During this period she had a new experience of the Holy Spirit ‘stirring something’ in her, while she was ‘just reading notes and scripture’. However, her strongest experience of the Spirit happened aft er she had returned to England:

I was in bed, and I kind of got woken up at about three in the morning, which never happens, because I sleep all the way through. And literally, I was kind of like, I could just feel the Spirit. I’d never had that feeling before, or since, actually… It was the Holy Spirit saying, ‘Look, this is for you, and you need to just get into the Word, and you need to let the Word change you.’. In the next weeks, Brittany felt she was reading the Bible for the fi rst time: ‘Th e words were just coming to life… It was like food, it was just amazing.’ As soon as she came back to England, she decided to go to a church. She started to attend a charismatic Anglican church, but she left it aft er some months because she was not able to connect with people and fi nd new friends there. Later, she was enthused by the friendliness of the people she met in the services of the Hillsong Church in London. Quickly, Brittany and her husband became involved in a small ‘life- group’, where people meet to share thoughts, pray for each other, and refl ect on how they can apply the content of the latest Sunday sermon to their everyday life.

Becoming a Group Leader – Being the Friend She Wanted to Have Aft er a while, her network leaders challenged Brittany and her husband to become life group leaders. Brittany says that she sensed that these leaders believed in her and accepted her. In the next months, their network leaders provided her with basic training and with support and advice as she was learning by doing. Th eir basic advice was that Brittany should ‘be herself’ and share from her life and experience. Th ere were several decisive moments in the process that followed. Th e fi rst occurred when Brittany listened to Gary Clarke’s teaching on friendship: Th ere was a tension within me, because there was a time I felt like I didn’t have those friends, and they were lacking from my life. I can remember 128 chapter five

Gary at one of the life group sessions, and he was speaking about friendship or something, and I remember him just saying, ‘If you really want to have good friends, you know, then be the friend that you want. Be the friend that you’re looking for.’ So I just reversed my thinking on it, because I thought, ‘Well, actually, I’m not going to get really great friends unless I start putting myself into people’s lives, basically’. She started to think on how others had involved themselves in her life, and she started to challenge her own fears. To this point Brittany had been reluctant to invite people over for coff ee, because she was afraid of what they might think of her: I thought about Maria and George and all the other people, and that’s what they did with us. Th ey didn’t worry about their fears about picking up the phone and thinking, ‘What’s this person going to think of me if I phone them’, or ‘Do they really want me to pop over for coff ee?’ and I just started to think, ‘Right, I’m just going to do it’. So I just started saying, ‘Hey, so- and-so, how about coming round for dinner, or how about doing this?’, and just being a bit more bold, whereas I previously tended to be a little bit less that way. She describes her struggle with self-confi dence as a gender issue: …such as the kind of confi dence and identity side of stuff . I think women probably in general… you compare yourself with other people and the way they do things, and think, ‘I can never be as good or as eloquent…’, and you kind of compare yourself, which is ridiculous because you don’t really get anywhere. As a response to Clarke’s teaching, Brittany decided to take the initiative and involve herself with other people’s lives. Th e result was revolutionary: But then when you get to the point where actually you have to be not just the recipient of that, but actually be the person that’s doing that too, and extending your hand. I can remember kind of my thinking of friendship was probably quite one-way, and so the whole thing about being the friend that I want you to be, kind of revolutionised my relationships, and all of a sudden I have loads of friends, because all of a sudden I’ve been the friend to people that I wanted to have. ‘All of a sudden’ might be an exaggeration, since Brittany later in her story refers to another breakthrough that happened about a year before my interview. At that time, Brittany was frustrated because the church had become so big that it was getting diffi cult to connect with persons – stories from london 129 new people, and she also felt that their life group did not create ‘real’ relationships: I can remember just thinking: ‘Right, I want our life group, I just don’t want people to turn up on a Wednesday night and just kind of talk about what was spoken about on Sunday, and then go and have no real relationships’, which is what it felt to me like it could be, and it was being a little bit. In this situation, Brittany recollected Gary’s preaching once again and took a new initiative in terms of involving herself in the life of others: And so I remember thinking: ‘Right, well I just need to be the friend that I want to have’. Th en I remember thinking, ‘Right, I just want our life group. I just want everybody to be the best of friends and everybody that comes into our life group… I want everybody to be embraced and included, and just feel like they’ve already got a whole new bunch of friends.’ At the time of my interview, she was focused on releasing others into the same kind of leadership. Th is is one of her reasons for participating in Hillsong services: My main reason would be… I would say just to sort of praise God. It’s for the teaching, and to basically just help create the atmosphere, so that people coming in for the fi rst time can experience what we experienced, because we wouldn’t be where we are now, if we hadn’t had somebody who was looking outward to say, ‘Hey, you look like you haven’t been here before. How are you doing? Welcome to church, welcome home.’

Other Consequences of Church Participation – Present Life Strategies From this passage one might provoked to ask, how can a church be someone’s home? An element of an answer may be found in the following account, given as a reply to whether participating in the church had changed the way she perceived life: Totally, it has changed how I see God, and the people that I’ve met have been unlike people that I’ve ever met in church before. Th ey are just so heart-and-soul for the church, and for God, and just bringing people to Him. It’s just so inspiring. So it’s changed my thinking about what being a part of church actually is all about. Th e diff erence between somebody who just receives, and someone who actually is a part of it, and wants to be a part of building God’s church. And I guess for me, I’ve never really had any great ambitions or dreams for my life, but one thing I know, because it’s in Scripture, is that God’s called me to build His church. So that is my dream 130 chapter five

and my heart’s desire, and my thinking is constantly challenged along the way, in every aspect. Th is church has become a part of Brittany’s self-presentation: she now perceives herself as a church builder. For this reason she fi nds it easy to ‘tithe’, which means that she is giving ten per cent of her income to the church: I fi nd it easy to tithe. I love doing it. I haven’t really got a big thing about money. God keeps blessing me with new jobs and promotions, and it’s cool, just a fl ow. But it’s never been something that’s been that important to me. New jobs and promotions are not that important, because the church has become her ‘heart’s desire’. Th at does not mean that Brittany’s commitment to the church is completely without tension. Time remains a constant issue of tension and internal debate. She told me that, because of many commitments in life, she could feel exhausted on Th ursday nights, and for that reason she had decided not to go to the leadership meeting that spring, despite of fact that she has a fundamental commitment to her life group. She does this without feeling guilty because church relates to all aspects of her life. When I asked her about what it meant to be committed to the church in terms of her ‘week-to-week life’, she answered: It means remembering why I’m doing stuff . I guess it comes back to putting God at the centre of everything. You stop saying ‘church’, it’s just something that you do. Actually, you know, if God’s at the centre of my life, then when I’m leading life group, or when I’m spending Tuesday night taking somebody out for coff ee and talking to him about stuff , it’s just all life. Th is passage shows that her commitment to the church is rooted in a more fundamental commitment to God. God is presented as the centre of her life, to which all other aspects relate. Th is motive was also present in her reply to whether her encounter with Hillsong had changed her perception of her responsibilities in life: My main responsibilities would be just to be the person that God’s called me to be right now, so to be a wife and a friend, and in my career, just to be the best representative for him that I can be in every aspect of my life… which is not always easy, because it means dying to self, which is hard… If God’s in the middle of your life, then everything can just kind of fl ow. Because if you’re looking at putting God in the middle, there should be just this sense of God’s grace on your life, and just focusing on Him will help you make decisions and help you manage your time. persons – stories from london 131

Th is answer shows that she is also committed to her statuses and roles as wife and friend, related to the ‘self-character’ of a representative for Christ. Th e overarching goal of this character is to represent Christ well, in all aspects of life. Th e same motive is evident in her refl ections on her responsibilities as a UK citizen: …that I actually have a responsibility for the people in my world and in London, and just to be an answer to a need, no matter how small or where it is. Not just doing life, not just living a kind of comfortable life that keeps me happy, keeps me content, but to actually just be looking outward the whole time, which is a constant kind of dying to self thing… I know that as I continue to sort of enlarge my life, and choose to live a life that’s beyond just me, and has that generous position, I’m going to have to deal with selfi shness in me. Th is answer provides a richer description of the ‘representative character’. Her virtue is generosity, understood as enlarging one’s mind so that there is room for others. It is looking beyond herself, being an answer to other persons’ needs. However, in order to become such a person, one must ‘die to oneself’, meaning that one must deal with selfi shness and small thinking, in the sense of self-centredness. When I asked her under what circumstances she would consider leaving Hillsong, she answered: I wouldn’t [laughter]. It sounds really ridiculous, doesn’t it? To me, I didn’t actually want to move to London, but my husband and I got married. My husband lived in London and I lived in the country, and before I knew about Hillsong, I didn’t want to move to London at all, because I love the country. As soon as I had the experience in Sydney, and came to Hillsong London, it was like my opinion of London changed and all of a sudden, I loved London. So it’s amazing what God can do in you, because it’s obvious, you know and I’m just so in a place: I just can’t imagine my life, I can’t imagine leaving a church, basically, where there’s such a vision, and there’s so much yet to happen, and there’s so much growth that’s going to happen. Th is passage shows that ‘being a representative for Christ’ also means to think beyond one’s closest relationships, and to embrace the larger vision of the church and its mission to the city. However, for Brittany such thinking does not happen easily; when I asked her about her most important goals and dreams for the future, she answered: For the future? Just to keep in church, just keep growing, keep moving forward, to see all the people in our lives come to know God, see their lives change. I’m really not a big dreamer, and I always kind of get stuck on that question… 132 chapter five

Th e last part of this answer might indicate that Brittany’s transformation is rather partial, and that she is struggling to adapt to Hillsong’s way of ‘big thinking’. Nonetheless, this kind of thinking seems also to be related to God. When I asked her if her perception of God had changed as a result of her participation in Hillsong, she answered: My faith was never challenged previously. So when I made that decision at Hillsong, it was kind of like a journey of discovery, of fi nding out who God actually really is… Th e more I learn and the more I grow, my view of God just gets bigger, and it just amazes me. Brittany describes the last four years as a new journey with God, in terms of God getting ‘bigger’. Her perception of God has also been altered by the way the church approaches questions of ethical transformation: She describes her earlier thinking as ‘judgemental’, ‘intolerant’, and ‘black-and-white’: At Hillsong it was kind of, there was no judgement at all. Everybody was just kind of loved and embraced, and people were loved into health.

Brittany’s Story – Analysis

Identifi cation Th emes – and Reasons As one looks for identifi cation themes, it might be fruitful to make a distinction between those concerns that initiated Brittany’s primary attraction to Hillsong on the one side, and those identifi cation themes that may have emerged aft er her participation, on the other. One of the initiating concerns was a desperate need to defi ne her identity. In her university years, Brittany had been living with two confl icting stories of the self. She was acting according to one, feeling guilty towards the other. Nevertheless it was not a message about forgiveness that made her make a decision in Sydney. Rather, it was a message off ering a prospective self-character. Th is prospective character personifi ed certain attractive virtues, such as passion and wholeheartedness, related to a possible larger purpose (living for God). Th e main questions addressed seemed therefore to be: which relationship or purpose shall defi ne what I live for, and what kind of person shall I be? When these issues were resolved she also found answers to other questions about ontological truth and personal guilt. Th e second identifi cation theme is friendships and close relationships. ‘Close relationships’ is a persistently appearing theme through her persons – stories from london 133 story, from her youth, through her university years, and to her present participation in Hillsong. Th e signifi cance of this theme is obvious in the fact that Brittany chose Hillsong over the Anglican Church, because it was easier to fi nd friends in Hillsong. Moreover, Brittany stresses that she and her husband wouldn’t ‘be where they are now’, if it wasn’t for the people who had said: ‘Welcome home’. Why are friendships and close relationships so important? I fi nd at least four reasons in her story. Firstly, I interpret her description of the small church and her statement about ‘being close’ to her sister simply as descriptions of positive experiences, in terms of belonging, fellowship, and proximity in her youth. Secondly, such relationships also seem to produce a sense of ‘self-worth’. Th is is evident in her story about being afraid to take relational initiatives, and more positively in her account of being welcomed home and cared about by her new friends in Hillsong. Th irdly, in her case, these signifi cant others seem to be more than friends that merely affi rmed her worth. Th ey also have functioned as role models and advisers, who helped Brittany to master her life in a better way. Finally, I will also suggest that Brittany cares about close relationships, because she sees it as an arena for altruistic behaviour. She wants to give to others, in terms of caring for and being involved with their lives.

New Commitments and Virtues Brittany has made an explicit commitment to live generously, even if it means dying to herself, in the sense of being less focused on her own needs. Th us, her way of thinking transcends a purely transactional view of relationships, and inspires a process of becoming a more caring and generous person for the sake of others. More importantly, her engagement with Hillsong has enabled her to become an active facilitator of relationships, rather than an anxious receiver. For this reason one may consider personal growth and empowerment as a third identifi cation theme. Th ese commitments can primarily be seen as self-transcendent commitments to care in dyadic relationships, and to lead the small group. However, she also states that the visionary mindset of the church has helped her to think in a larger perspective beyond her closest relationships. Th us, altruistic and communal care is intertwined with Hillsong’s larger vision. She dreams about contributing to the welfare of the big city. Th us, ‘vision’ has also become a fourth reason for identifying with the church, and a new transformational commitment to a common 134 chapter five cause. Th e latter is primarily understood in terms of the salvation of all, but also involves ethical virtues on a face-to-face level, in terms of ‘welcoming people home’. Beyond this, her new understanding of ethics does not seem to represent a transformation in terms of moral standards or ethical conduct. It is more appropriate to speak of a new understanding of processes, in terms of loving people into health, and gaining a new sense of ethical abilities and motivation.

Vocabulary, Images and Horizon Narratives However, I will also suggest that her narrative in general and her conversion story in particular, show that her new commitment to the church’s vision is grounded in a more fundamental commitment to live with and for God. What that means is defi ned by what Brittany calls ‘Scripture’. She employs biblical vocabulary as she is narrating what she wants with her life, in terms of building God’s church. Th is language is not new to her. Brittany grew up in a church and has read the Bible since she was a little girl. Overall, the combinations of Bible and church, and family and friends, seem to confi gure her main perspective on life. Brittany seems to a large degree to defi ne herself in terms of belonging to such fellowships and their traditions, and as such she may be characterised as ‘communitarian’ (see chapter two). Th is provokes another question. Th e themes of identifi cation that have been presented so far, such as caring for others, participating in a church, and contributing to the salvation of all people, are biblical themes frequently addressed in the Free Church tradition. Why then does Brittany feel that her encounter with Hillsong has totally transformed the way she sees life? An adequate answer to this question can only be given aft er undertaking a holistic analysis of the identifi cation process and the Hillsong story. However at this point, I will suggest that there is at least one signifi cant set of ideational components that has contributed to this process. Th e element of ‘big thinking’ seems to belong to a new interpretative repertoire. It is in this context that Brittany speaks about her affi liation with Hillsong in terms of a journey of discovery. Even though she is struggling to ‘think big’, she has already embraced certain dynamic terms: When somebody else moves on, it creates room for somebody else to step up… So just always being in an environment where people are constantly persons – stories from london 135

looking to create opportunity for people to grow and develop… I don’t want to ignore some of the stuff in my thinking that’s not right, and just kind of be there in church, because I want to be with the people that are the shakers and movers. As I read it, this word picture is characterised not only by dynamic terms like ‘constantly’, ‘grow’ and ‘develop’, it also contains energetic and infl u- ential characters like ‘shakers’ and ‘movers’. Th ere is a certain pragmatic orientation in this repertoire, in the sense that it values dynamic eff ects, or that which causes ‘things to work’ or have infl uence. Th is is also evident in her answer to whether she missed the democratic structure of her old church: No, not at all… I think it’s a nightmare, personally. My parents are still in that church and that structure, and it’s just, ‘Oh, my goodness, no’. I just believe in leadership. I’m so glad that Gary is our pastor and that he makes the decisions, and I totally trust him to do it, and we’re just all there to learn from him and, I mean, you can just look at the fruitfulness of the church, and the people in the church. Th at’s all I need to know I’m in the right place, and I can just keep growing. Brittany does not demonstrate critical distance towards the Hillsong Church, but she seems to be critical towards her previous church. Th e interesting point, at this stage of analysis, is the criterion from which she launches her assessment. Since ‘the people’ in her old church is described positively in other parts of the narrative, the main diff erence between her old church and Hillsong seems to be their respective degree of fruitfulness, which in this context seems to mean results in both numerical church growth and personal growth. Th e focus on growth in Brittany’s story relates primarily to the metaphor of building the church. Th is metaphor is important because Brittany states that building the House is one of her most important visions for her future. Th is motivation is, according to Brittany, inspired by ‘Scripture’. However, I will suggest that Brittany’s statement about God blessing her with ‘new jobs and promotions’ in the work domain, may mix the horizon of Scripture with another interpretative repertoire. Here blessing and career advancement, or success, seem to be interchangeable features. For this reason one might ask if Brittany’s view on her own, and the church’s, success also is infl uenced by a more a secular growth perspective, as well. However, there is also another set of ideational elements in her story, which might be even more important than the growth discourse, since Brittany states that job and promotions are less important than close 136 chapter five relationships. Th is ‘second repertoire’ is expressed through another set of key terms and metaphors, like ‘welcome’ and ‘home’, and associated with relational virtues like ‘care’ and ‘generosity’. Brittany also uses a therapeutic metaphor when she describes her new understanding of sanctifi cation, which she now understands as ‘loved into health’. It seems exceedingly important for Brittany to be a good wife, a generous friend, and caring life group leader who embodies the virtue of care. Th ese self-characters are also part of what Brittany means by ‘living a larger life’. Moreover, it is worth noticing that her new perception of living ‘beyond just me’ is connected to the practice of dealing with ‘selfi shness in me’, which is expressed metaphorically as ‘dying to oneself’. Th is means personal growth is not solely understood as a kind of self-realisation. As I read Brittany, this is understood as focusing less on oneself, and being in a process of transforming into the generous person who meets the needs of others, and fulfi ls her calling to represent Christ in all aspects of her life. Hence, Brittany’s narrative displays diff erent kinds of community ‘games’. 1 I will suggest that Brittany previously understood church primarily as an arena for interpersonal communion, and thus as a ‘friendship game’ or ‘communion game’ focusing on intimacy, self-worth, and care. Th is might still be her most important perspective on the church, but this game has now been supplemented by another one: she also perceives the congregation as a team of history makers, participating in a ‘change the world game’, focusing on infl uence and growth. Interestingly, it was an image belonging to both games that inspired her growth: ‘the friend you want to have’. Both games seem to relate to her perception of gender. We have seen that she describes her focus on relational self-confi dence as a gender issue, and that she is not very good at ‘big thinking’. Th is seems to imply that she perceives men to be better at ‘growth games’ than women. However, it may also suggest that she perceives women as more concerned about close relationships and the self-identity that emerges out of such relations. Anyhow, she now plays both games.

1 Since patterns of meaning both emerge from, and create ‘rules’ for practices, a game metaphor may be a useful link between interpretive repertoires on one side and practices on the other (see chapter one). My use of this transcends its use in ‘rational choice theories’, which hold the view that interaction in communities must be understood as ‘rational exchange’ based on individual self-interests. As I suggested in chapter one, this is a narrow conception of social life. persons – stories from london 137

Modes of Identifi cation and Participation What is Brittany’s dominant mode of identifi cation and participation? I consider it important that Brittany went home from university to resolve her crisis in the context of friends and family. Likewise, at the time of my fi eldwork, when she was about to make important decisions or solve important problems, she sought to converse with people she respected and admired, because she evaluated her inner conversation to be rather insuffi cient: At the moment God is actually saying, ‘Your thinking isn’t necessarily right here, you know’. And so in trying to work through that, I’ve been spending time with people in my life that I respect, and I know are further ahead on the journey than me… I actually need other people in my life to confront me and challenge me, because I don’t think I see a lot of other stuff otherwise. In this passage Brittany describes her inner conversation in terms of working things out with others. Th us, I will suggest that this could be called a cooperative mode of agency, which is receptive to the perspectives of others. Th e passage above also seems to indicate that she prefers a cooperative mode of refl exivity to more independent ones. Th is does not mean that Brittany is incapable of independent refl ection. She is also familiar with such modes, and the quote above shows that she practises a ‘Spirit receptive’ mode as well. Being with God is also a way of being honest and repenting from thinking what is not right: …to be real with where I’m at with God. Not to pretend I’m anything I’m not. Not to pretend, but just to be constantly honest with God, and have a constantly honest relationship, and go through struggles with Him, and you know, all the stuff that we’re going through in life. I don’t just want to ignore some of the stuff in my thinking that’s not right.

Processes of Identifi cation and Transformation Brittany’s mode of refl ection gives shape to the process of identifi cation and personal transformation. I will suggest that there are fi ve important processes or stages in her story: 1) Th e university years – contextual discontinuity Taking her relational mode of agency into account, one may assume that Brittany’s university period was quite emotionally challenging, because she was caught between two diff erent relational contexts. Th e friendship 138 chapter five game at university off ered another interpretative repertoire. Even though she doesn’t describe this horizon in detail, her story seems to indicate that her university friends represented an atheistic worldview. Th e phrases ‘partying’ and ‘other stuff ’ also imply that they were promoting a more hedonistic ethic than her previous belief would encourage. We have seen that at times she lived according to one repertoire and felt guilty towards the other. For this reason she had to ‘fi nd out what she wanted in her life’. 2) Th e rededication I interpret the university period as an important prelude to the following process, because Brittany was both coerced and enabled to refl ect on her ultimate beliefs more independently. Th us, her ability to meta-refl ect may have increased. In other words, contextual discontinuity stimulated a more independent mode of agency. As a result, she could know for herself, rather than with others, that she wanted to belong to God, when she converted. Th is is how I interpret her description of her ‘re- conversion’ as ‘her fi rst decision as an adult’, in contrast to just being a part of a ‘great environment’. At the same time, there is reason to believe that the environment of her youth may have stimulated this process, since she states that her friends and family were very supportive during the last stage of her crisis. Moreover, it is worth noticing that her re-dedication happened in her sister’s church. Based on the assumptions that she prefers a very relational mode of her inner dialogue, one may ask whether the ‘battle’ between the two cultural repertoires to some degree was decided when she chose to conclude her inner conversation in the context of friends and family. However, even though there was a strong element of social infl uence, ideational factors undoubtedly played a decisive role in this phase as well. Th e fi rst nuclear episode happened during Bobbie Houston’s teaching from the Bible. Since her crisis revolved around questions of identity, it may be important to note that it was a female role model that off ered her a new and attractive self-character. Hence, both the message and the messenger were relevant to her questions, and it was the ‘common content’ of these variables that inspired Brittany to make a ‘fi nal’ decision. Aft er this decision, Brittany describes a second nuclear episode, which she describes as an experience of the Spirit, structured as follows: she woke up at three o’clock, in the middle of the night, because she could persons – stories from london 139 feel the Spirit, then she started to write down fragments of the teaching she had received earlier, including her own thoughts and Bible verses. She felt that this was the Holy Spirit telling her to study the Bible. Hence, Brittany did not hear ‘physical voices’. Like Peter, she felt a sense of feeling with the Spirit and knowing with the Spirit. Th e main eff ect of the Spirit in this part of the narrative was to confi rm the validity of the Bible, and thereby also the validity of Brittany’s own decision. Overall, one might conclude that it was a complex process of interrelated constructs that led to her conversion. Even though it seems that the triumph of the Christian discourse depended on her choice of social context, she could have left this context and decided not to go to any church, if its identity images had not been convincing enough to inspire a ‘fi nal’ decision. For this reason, it is diffi cult to give one construct primacy over the other; even though one might say that these constructs were initiating variables, whereas the Spirit experience (in a narrow sense) only had a ‘confi rming’ function. 3) Th e process of connecting to Hillsong In the next phase of identifi cation, the process was somewhat less complicated. Her cultural repertoire and inner conversation may have inspired Brittany to search for a kind of evangelical charismatic church, but it was the concern for friendships that was decisive for her choice of the specifi c church. 4) Th e empowerment process Th e fourth process, which happened aft er Brittany had agreed to be a life group leader, is signifi cantly more multifarious. Overall, I am able to identity four transforming factors in this process. Th e fi rst variable is the practice of the life group. When Brittany agreed to become a leader, it meant that she placed herself within a relational practice with inescap- able ethical responsibilities. She positioned herself as ‘care giver’ and ‘facilitator’, and not only as ‘receiver’ in the ‘friendship game’. However, she also became a part of a leadership-training programme designed to help such ‘givers’. At that time, Brittany perceived herself primarily as ‘receiver’, needing communion for several reasons, one of them being a sense of ‘self-worth’. It might be worth noticing that this focus on relational self-esteem is something she considered essential for women. Th is means that gender, or at least her perception of her own gender, contributed to her defi nition of the situation. 140 chapter five

Her lack of self-esteem also created a lack of relational self-confi dence, which could have torpedoed the whole process. I will therefore suggest that the confi dence shown by her network leaders was another or second initiating factor; when I asked her in what way these leaders contributed to her process of growth, she answered: ‘I think people just basically believe in the best in you’. At this stage, her cooperative mode of agency may have contributed to the process, because it made her receptive to her mentor’s confi dence: I kind of found myself saying yes before I’d even thought, ‘Oh, do I really want to do this?’ I was like, ‘Yeah, I’ll do it, it would be really cool’. Th e expression ‘before I’d even thought’ may imply that her response, at this stage, was close to being receptive to the degree that it was a social refl ection rather than being an active deliberation. Th us, to some degree Brittany placed herself in a position of a ‘care-giver’ before she had thought through its consequences. I will suggest that Brittany trusted herself ‘with her leaders’, before she ‘trusted in her own capabilities’, even if she may have developed a stronger element of ‘individual self-confi dence’ at a later stage. Th ese leaders stand out as important and multiplex characters in Brittany’s story. Th ey are leaders, advisers, role models and yet also friends. Th ey provided her with both emotional and cognitive resources enabling her to carry the responsibility of being a relational leader. For this reason, I consider them crucial for the process that followed. It was important that these characters were more than role images in ‘front of her’; they were present role models, in terms of being ‘with her’, off ering a cooperative mode of participation. Her ‘transforming trust’ was also a result of the teaching of the church, which constantly challenged Brittany to ‘grow’, and at the same time off ered a narrative tone that enthused her confi dence and trust. Th us, a third transforming variable in this process is Gary Clarke’s teaching on becoming ‘the friend she wanted to have’, which seems to have empowered her inner conversation in several respects. Firstly, Brittany was inspired to take responsibility for her life to larger degree. Secondly, it contributed to her new strategies of relating to others, and fi nally, it helped her to act because she started to believe that such strategies were doable. Th e result was courage, in the sense that she was able to take relational initiatives despite her fear of being rejected. Th us, the fourth transforming construct is her inner dialogue, which enabled her to actively give persons – stories from london 141 shape to her performance of a ‘care giver’ beyond the requirements of her status as a life group leader. Paradoxically, this process of growth also entailed an important element of ‘dying to herself’. My thinking is constantly challenged. I know that as I continue to enlarge my life, and choose to live a life that’s beyond just me, and has that generous position, I’m going to have to deal with selfi shness in me. Th at’s going to mean dying to self, which is never very easy in all sorts of ways. We have seen that the concept of dying to oneself has become a part of her ideational repertoire. Th is doesn’t mean that it ‘automatically’ works altruistic behaviour into her life. In Brittany’s story it was embraced and employed actively in the inner conversation, meaning that Brittany was trying to re-orientate her thinking from focusing primarily on herself towards ‘looking outwards’, by serving others and involving herself in their lives. Th is tension between what she describes as ‘selfi shness’ and ‘dying to self’ is presented as a ‘constant’ inner battle. One might ask how such a mental concept that strongly encourages unselfi sh and self- critical thinking might infuse trust in people who already doubt their own relational abilities. However, for Brittany dying to self, in the overall perspective of her narrative, also means trusting in God. Th us, the para- doxical pairing of ‘growing’ and ‘dying’ can work together in the story of an empowerment process that has enabled her to create friendships instead of waiting for them. It follows that her inner dialogue must be perceived as a very complex independent variable. It contributed to the development of virtues such as trust, courage, and care, in interplay with the other constructs by combining a receptive, cooperative mode with a more self-governing mode of initiative, and an altruistic mode of focusing on others. One might ask if a kind of ‘Spirit mode’ played a role in this process as well, since Brittany elsewhere refers to such a mode. 5) Th e present phase – and overall process Th e fi nal consolidation process in the ‘present’ phase of her story adds the construct of vision to the list of transforming variables that has been incorporated in her inner conversation. Her roles as ‘caregiver’ in the ‘friendship game’, and ‘contributor’ and ‘owner’ of the vision in the ‘change the world game’, have also made her way of participating more transformational, in contrast to the fi rst ‘attraction phase’ where she was mostly a ‘receiver’ of both care and teaching. 142 chapter five

A Note on the Cooperate Mode of Identifi cation, Signifi cant Others, and Model Power Above we saw that Brittany accepted the role as life group leader by trusting herself with her leaders. One might say that in this situation she acted on the perspective of her signifi cant others. It is important to notice that Brittany found herself ‘saying yes before I’d even thought…’. Th us, at this stage she is not only refl ective, but her actions become a refl ection of the perspectives of signifi cant others. Th e role of such others is important, and evident in Brittany’s account of her fi rst encounter with Hillsong: I will suggest that Bobbie Houston in this passage represents the communal values of both Brittany’s Christian ‘past’ and the ‘new horizon’ of her future. Th us, at this point ‘the signifi cant other’ also represents what George Herbert Mead (1962) calls ‘the generalized other’. Brittany performs two acts of what Mead calls ‘role taking’ in this story. First, she takes Houston’s perspective on her previous self as ‘apathetic’, then she moves on to identify with Houston’s model of the Christian life, and with Houston as her model of personal growth. Th us, in this particular situation the values of the church are re-introduced to her inner conversation through charismatic leadership. More critically, one may ask if Brittany in this situation moves from role-taking to accepting a signifi cant amount of ‘model power’, since Houston’s character and perspective on life seem to determine how Brittany started to defi ne herself. As I suggested above, cooperative modes of refl ection seem vulnerable to this kind of power, for better and for worse.

Personal Integration and Life Plot: Coming Home to a Journey of Discovery However, Brittany’s ‘present phase’ also discloses one important tension in her relationship with the church; the issue of energy and time management. At this point there is an element of refl ective distance. Brittany tries to deal with this tension by employing a model of a holistic life that is life centred on God. In her case, it also functions as reason for taking care of her own health, in the sense that she also perceives resting as an important ingredient of a life with God. Th e relational mode is important for the way she prioritises her concerns and personal strivings on a day-to-day basis. Th e university period also demonstrated that such a cooperative mode of personal integration is vulnerable to contextual discontinuity. Her account of being persons – stories from london 143

‘wrapped up in guilt and stuff ’ demonstrates that for her, growing up with a traditional mono-centred lifeview, it was excruciating to live with two ‘possible selves’. Th us, Brittany seems to be a person who seeks to have a relatively unifi ed self with one ultimate concern, but this unity thrives on at least a few ‘similar others’ who share her basic beliefs. For this reason it is not diffi cult to understand why she calls Hillsong her home. Th e church’s teaching on God as an integrating centre corresponds to the way she was confi guring her identity in her youth. However, now that she has taken a more independent second decision, this can be considered a more deliberately chosen life strategy. Th is way of centring her life seems to combine certain long-term communal commitments with corresponding altruistic life strategies. She is committed to God, to the church, and to the people she serves, and for this reason she provides a spiritual home with care and encouragement. In light of the church vision, she now also believes that she can make a diff erence in the world she lives in. From the beginning and to the point she started to identify with the church in London, her story seems to have a U-plot, familiar to classic comedies and to stories of homecoming in the Bible, such as the parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15). She has been welcomed home and loved into health by new friends, in the midst of the big city, in which she felt uncomfortable before. However, as Brittany suggests, her encounter with Hillsong also added a plot of discovery. Interestingly, within Brittany’s narrative universe there is no contradiction between being home and being on a journey of discovery. Hillsong presented a God with a vision that could match the size of the metropolis, and helped her to grow in an area that meant much to her sense of self-worth; close relationships. In an overarching perspective, this is a new journey of discovery with God, which has given her life a dimension beyond close relationships.

Th e Story of Earnest

Earnest is a self-employed British soft ware expert in his early thirties. He describes his background as Christian, and adds that his father was a pastor and that his grandparents, going back several generations, had been well-established, well-known preachers. He made his fi rst decision to become a Christian when he was four years old. He perceives his marriage as divinely ordained, and he spends a signifi cant amount of his 144 chapter five time serving in a local church. At the time of my fi eldwork he had taken time off ‘between contracts’ to study the Bible and read Christian books. In his professional life, Earnest has changed occupation several times. He adapts to new technology very quickly, and seems to be a passionate learner, even though he didn’t like school much: I never went to college. I didn’t really like college, and I didn’t really like school. I went into the Royal Navy for a couple years. I was a mechanic, a marine engineer on a ship. Th en aft er that, I did a bit of travelling, and following that I’ve been a fax engineer, fi xing fax machines. I’ve been a pho- tocopier engineer, then I moved into computer hardware, and then into soft ware, and one thing led to another, and now I’ve been in soft ware development for the last four or three years. I own my own company, whereby it means in the UK that I’m able to contract. Basically, as far as I’m concerned, it’s the same as being permanently employed, but I earn signifi - cantly more money doing contracts. You don’t have the security, when you’re contracting. His decision to start his own company was inspired by what he describes as ‘promptings’ from God. Th is happened approximately at the same time that he started to attend the Hillsong church in London.

Being Frustrated in his Old Church Th irteen months prior to the interview, Earnest and his wife decided to leave the church they had attended for 15 years, in order to start attending the Hillsong Church in London. He describes this as a diffi cult decision, because he is not ‘one for just upping and leaving’. He had had diff erent functions in his previous church, over the years. Th is church was a Free Church, which at one point was relatively ‘modern’, but had become more and more traditional over time as its congregation was aging. Earnest knew the pastor very well, and he had tried to contribute to a process of change over the last seven years. However, fi nally he and his wife decided to leave: Th e church was unrecognisable when we left from when we started, just because its function had changed. Th at’s not a bad thing, because it seemed that there were more older people going, so it was more of a theological church. Th ey had very long and heavy Bible studies. Th at’s great, but for me, for my personality, it needs to be followed by the working out of that. It wasn’t life. It was something I did on a Sunday. It was almost like a club. It had no impact on my life at all. I was a Christian inside, but not in my everyday work… To be honest, it got to a point where I just had enough. I thought, ‘Th is is just nothing, this isn’t a life. Th is isn’t Christianity; this is just going along every Sunday, feeling guilty.’ persons – stories from london 145

Connecting to the Hillsong Church According to Earnest, there were at least three factors that drew the couple towards the new church. Th e fi rst was the form of the service. Th ey were already familiar with the Hillsong worship songs, because they had used them in their previous church. However, when they started to attend the church, the level of sensory energy was quite shocking, and both Earnest and his wife needed some time to get used to it. Earnest was impressed by what he called his visual experience. Th e whole event has a form that Earnest can identify with and proudly present to his non- believing friends: Sensory, not sensual… It’s so cool to have a church you can be proud of. Th is is the fi rst church I’ve ever been to that I’m not ashamed to bring my friends to. I mean, it’s a horrible word to use, but it’s a very appropriate one, because I was ashamed of the other churches I’ve been to. I could never take any of my friends to any of the other churches. Overall, Earnest felt that the whole event was centred on God, and that there was more ‘life’ to this kind of worship than to the worship in his previous church. Secondly, coming to Hillsong off ered Earnest and his wife the opportunity to connect with new Christian friends of their own age. To them this was important because they wanted to have conversations that were ‘relevant’ to their life: I’m thirty-one years old, and in my age bracket, twenty-seven to thirty- fi ve, there wasn’t anybody in my last church. It was only me and my wife, so subsequently, the friends that we had were either a lot older than us or a lot younger than us, which is nice, but at times you want to go out bowling. You want to just have a conversation where it’s relevant to you, so we wanted to go to a church where there were people our own age. Th irdly, Ernest was also looking for what he calls ‘challenges’. Th is drive is not something he found in his previous church. To the contrary, he describes this church as comfortable: …the majority wouldn’t, because you kind of get comfortable where you’re at, and because it’s easier to just go to church [at] eleven o’clock every Sunday, come home, have Sunday lunch. It’s no more than that. Th ey’re doing their little bit, but if they’re challenged, then it’s knocking out their comfort zone. I strive to be knocked out of my comfort zone. However painful that is, bring it on, because that’s what I want. At this point, it may be fruitful to introduce Earnest’s explanation of the growth of the Hillsong church. At the time at my fi eldwork, Earnest had 146 chapter five tried to work out ‘why Hillsong was so good’. He suggested that a certain kind of person was attracted to the church: Yeah, so for the fi rst fi ve, six months being at Hillsong, I was trying to work out why Hillsong is so good. Why are we growing 130 per cent last year when most other churches in the UK are declining? So I think part of that is that it attracts very positive people. Th ey’re all a certain type of person to go travelling. Th ey’ve made a choice, so you have to be of a certain mindset to do that. A lot of people just stay at home, go to work in the city, come home and not do anything else, and that’s their life… Yeah, these guys, it’s almost like an entrepreneurial spirit. I mean, a lot of them use London as a springboard to other places in Europe… Th ey’re very positive, they’re go-getters, they’re not just sitting down. Th ey’re very active, so a church full of proactive people is going to be a kicking place. It is evident that Earnest perceives the church as an environment of entrepreneurial people and that he identifi es himself as one of those people. Th is kind of ‘entrepreneurial person’ is quite unlike most of the people in his ‘old church’: I think that God looks at us, and He sees a church that He can do something with. We’re fl exible enough. Th e service times in Hillsong have been signifi cantly changed probably about eight times over the last year. Had they changed at the last church, there would have been 56 people that would have been inconvenienced. Here, this is thousands of people and we love it. We love it because it’s a sign of growth.

Consequences of Church Participation Earnest claimed that he had found the church he had been waiting for for fi ft een years. Th is dream had grown out of his studies of the Bible, more specifi cally from Acts 2: As I said to you before, one of my favourite passages in the Bible is Acts 2, about the beginning of the early church… I remember reading it over and over for years, and thinking time and time again, ‘If only there was a church like this… It would have been fantastic to live at a time when there was a church like that’, and … behold, I go to one. I just couldn’t believe it. I said to you before, I’ve waited fi ft een years for this church, and to not only be a part of it, to be a member of it; but to actually help contribute, to help build it. For this reason Earnest feels that his life has been signifi cantly transformed since he started to participate in Hillsong. As response to a question about the content of this transformation he answered: ‘Aft er learning, and reading, and being taught about Christianity, we’re now living it’. Th is sentence is also relevant to Earnest’s perception of ethics persons – stories from london 147 and self-transcendent commitments. When I asked him about whether his participation in Hillsong had changed his perception of ethics, he answered that it was generally the same, just more practical. He also compared Christianity with a Shakespearean play: Th at’s what I meant by observing. Not just learning about it. It’s like you’re learning about a Shakespeare play, you go watch it, but you never actually take part. In other words, in his former church, he watched the play; in Hillsong he is participating in it. How? Hillsong has given him the opportunity to serve in the context of a clear vision: I’ve learned about Christianity, and I just want to do it. Whatever, if it’s toilet cleaning, that’s what I’ll do, I don’t care what it is, seriously… to be able to serve where there’s a vision you can work towards. Th at’s something that’s been lacking; having a clear vision, I guess. Gary’s leading that vision, and you’re doing whatever you can to support that, to help that, to move that on. Vision is an important ingredient of what Earnest calls ‘leading from the front’: …not waiting to react to issues. Not letting something happen and then reacting to it, but trying to direct. Not in a megalomaniac, overbearing way: ‘We’re going to do this, we’re going to do that’, but just having a vision. Something you can follow, get involved in. It is worth noticing that Earnest seems to follow what he sees. Here there might be a link between the narrative dramatic and the practical dynamic dimensions of identifi cation. Secondly, ‘leading from the front’ also means actively correcting or disciplining actions and practices that move the church off the visionary course. A couple of times, he stood at the front, and said, ‘Th is is not what we’re going to be doing. Th is is not how we do this’. As an example, Earnest tells a story of how some people wanted auto- graphs and took pictures of the pop star Natasha Bedingfi eld, when she was serving as the worship pastor in the church. Clarke intervened and told people to stop treating her as a celebrity. Earnest contrasts this with the laissez-faire leadership in his old denomination, where people in positions of relative authority were not confronted when they started drinking or using drugs. Th irdly, ‘leading from the front’ also means leading by example. Earnest perceives Gary Clarke and the other pastors as ‘men of principles’ 148 chapter five who seek to live up to the biblical standards of leadership. Perception might be a key word, since Earnest has only spoken to Clarke once or twice in his fi rst year as a participant. However, this doesn’t bother Earnest because he perceives himself as being part of a well-functioning hierarchical structure: Well, I guess it’s empowering. You’re empowered, and by being empowered I don’t know whether psychologically this would be a correct statement, but it kind of reproduces empowerment. It’s just about the domino eff ect, but I found that the teaching that I’ve received at Hillsong has empowered me to reach higher and further, and I’ve then included other people. I’m a life group leader and I love building people’s lives. Th us, he perceives Clarke’s leadership as empowerment through a ‘domino eff ect’. For Earnest this has meant engagement in several practices. Due to his profession, he started working with computers. However, aft er seven months he changed to the ‘community team’, before he found the ministry that most arouses his enthusiasm seven months later: One of my passions, my hobbies, is photography. So I’ve only been in the photography team for the past fi ve weeks or so, it’s just fantastic. I absolutely love it. I’m discovering what a passion it is. I mean, it’s been a hobby of mine, but to contribute in such a signifi cant way to the church is a buzz. He had now joined the photography team, enjoying the fact that he could use one of his hobbies for God. Earnest’s level of involvement in church life is defi nitely higher in Hillsong than in his previous church. He claims that he now works harder on a Sunday than on an average weekday: It’s slightly bizarre, but I get up earlier on a Sunday than I do when I’m working. I work harder, longer, put more energy into a Sunday than I ever do at work, which is quite surprising for me, because I’ve spent the last fi ft een years turning up to church half an hour before, and then leaving, going home for lunch, and then going out for a walk on a Sunday aft er- noon. Church was just something that you did fi rst thing. Th e area in which Earnest spends most of his ministry time is in the midweek life group. At the time of my interview, Earnest had become a leader and liked the fact that the leadership role had been redefi ned to a practice of a ‘host’: It’s hosting instead of leadership. It’s just more of a laid-back approach, really. Not so full-on and in your face. It’s more open, it’s more friendly. It’s ‘welcome home’. We’re family, so let’s start treating each other like family, not as virtual strangers. Let’s really get to know each other. persons – stories from london 149

Furthermore, there are at least two other aspects of the life group that makes Earnest enthusiastic about it. Firstly, they can discuss last Sunday’s sermon and refl ect on its practical application: We get these sheets emailed through that basically are a synopsis of the service, of the message on Sunday, which I found fantastically useful. You can sit there on a Sunday morning and hear stuff , and either you can take your notes and miss other things, or you kind of wander off … So to sit down and chew it over with friends, talk about it, discuss it, sometimes argue about it, is very, very healthy. Because then you’re getting other people’s opinions, as well. Secondly, it gives him an opportunity to contribute to the life of others and help them grow. At the time of the interview, he had decided to take part in pub-size events, to help build the community of the church: It is exhausting for the team, because it’s quite a tough life; most of us are going to the leadership courses on a Tuesday night, and then we have life group on a Wednesday night, there’s ministry practice on a Th ursday night, then we’ve got pub-size on a Friday night. Saturday we’ve got off , then we’ll be on all day Sunday. Once every three weeks. So it is tough. Earnest acknowledged that a high level of engagement could create a ‘burn-out’ for him or for some of his group members. He handled this tension by employing several strategies. First, he monitored his own ‘energy level’: It had to be tempered by the time available that I have, and energy as well. I’d love to be able to be there 24/7, being available to help set up and pack down and stuff . I have to be careful of my own energy levels. Don’t burn yourself out by trying to be to there. Secondly, as a result he had set certain limits for his availability and engagement. For Earnest this meant that he participated in pub-size events only every other week. Th irdly, he discussed this tension with his group to make sure that everybody took care of himself or herself and monitored their own energy level. Nonetheless, he still kept an eye on them: It’s important to keep an eye on the guys as well, in my life group, just to make sure that they’re not pushing themselves too hard, so they’re not going to burn out, or anything like that. Finally, for Earnest, to take care of oneself is more than a matter of defi ning boundaries for one’s engagement. It is also a question of how to nurture one’s inner motivation. He fi nds motivation in the vision of the 150 chapter five church, and in the spirituality of personal ‘quiet time’ where he prays and reads the Bible: If you’re not cultivating your own private walk with God, you’ll just burn yourself out. Th ere’s got to be an outfl ow of what’s going on inside.

Th e Future When He describes his dreams and goals for the future, Earnest states that he wants to become all that God wants him to become, and that he desires to be the best photographer the church has ever seen. Hence, the Hillsong church is now an integral part of Earnest’s dreams and goals for the future: My biggest dreams and goals… well, at the moment, because photography is my emphasis at the moment, I want to be the best photographer this church has ever seen. I don’t want that as a pride, but I want to be so good, so successful, but not for me. I want to be everything that God ever planned for me… It’s the journey that’s life, and that’s what I want. I want to be all that God wants me to be. Lastly, I will add that towards the end of my fi eldwork, about six months aft er the interview, Earnest had started more ‘theological’ Bible studies for his life-group on Sunday mornings, in cooperation with a Bible College graduate. He was still very enthusiastic about the Hillsong church.

Earnest’s Story – Analysis

Identifi cation Th emes – and Reasons I will suggest that Earnest’s account of how he left his former church in order to become a participant in Hillsong can be read as a story of transition. I fi nd at least four manifest transition themes in his story. In his reply to the survey, he stated that one of the two most important reasons for coming to Hillsong the fi rst time, was ‘the visual experience’. Earnest’s initial attraction to the church was therefore grounded in a kind of aesthetic identifi cation. He also says that he never brought his non- Christian friends to his former church because he was ashamed of its services. Th us, I will suggest that the fi rst transitional theme is the transition from a church with an embarrassing aesthetic expression to a church with far more attractive aesthetics. persons – stories from london 151

However, it is also worth noticing that Earnest says that there was ‘more life’ to the worship in Hillsong than in his previous church. Th is collective life is described by Earnest as shared passion at work both during worship and also in the process of working together with other ‘courageous entrepreneurs’. Th us, the second transition theme can be described as a shift from being part of a passive congregation, to taking part in a more passionate and lively, corporate spirituality. Th irdly, I will suggest that the most fundamental transformation refl ected in Earnest’s account, may be identifi ed in his analogy between Christianity and a Shakespearian play. He suggests that he previously was a spectator who watched God’s drama, whereas now he is participating in it. For 15 years, he has dreamt of being part of an ‘Acts 2 church’ – now he is experiencing his dream. Th us, the key dimension in this transition does not concern theological beliefs; it is rather the dynamic way that belief is experienced. Building on his use of the drama metaphor, one might suggest that the key transition here is a shift from pas- sivity to Th eo-dramatic participation. He has moved form being a spectator of God’s work in history to becoming a performing actor in the divine drama. I read Earnest’s account of how Hillsong’s worship is centred on God, and his celebration of the church’s vision, growth, and empowering leadership, as sub-elements of this overarching theme. However, this theme also includes an element of personal relevance. According to Earnest, one of the advantages of the church’s teaching is that it can be applied to all aspects of his day-to-day life: What I love about the teaching at Hillsong is – I don’t know the necessary term that Gary and the guys would use –, but for me it’s self-application. It’s life-application, teaching. You’ll take a biblical principle, and you’re guided into how to apply that to your life, practically. Th is way of approaching the biblical story seems to correspond to his preferred way of learning. Th e fact that he didn’t like school much seems to indicate that Earnest prefers practical forms of learning, and his list of new occupational skills seems to indicate that Earnest could be considered a high achieving practical learner, and possibly a quite adventurous one, as well. Th us, I will suggest that Earnest describes a transition from a practically irrelevant universe of theoretical Bible studies, with ‘no application’, to the universe of Th eo-dramatic performance that facilitates personal and relevant participation. 152 chapter five

Fourthly, it is also evident that relationships played an important role in Earnest’s story of transition. In his former church, Earnest and his wife could not fi nd friends of their own age, because there were no people in this age group in the church. What is it about such relationships that make them so important? Firstly, he states that he and his wife are concerned about having dialogue partners who are roughly in the same phase of life, facing the same issues. Secondly, he also likes to contribute to the personal growth of others. Earnest perceives leading his life group as ‘a sacrifi cial practice’, in which he ‘puts himself out’ for others. I really love it. It’s not much more work, but it’s more that you have to commit to it. Sometimes, if you just go along, if you’re really, really tired, or if you just don’t feel like it, you just don’t go. When you’re leading it, you haven’t got that option. You have to go, regardless… Blessed are the fl exible, because we’re being bent backwards almost weekly. It’s going to sound a bit weird, but I’m almost looking for ways that I can be inconvenienced for church, because that’s when I know that it’s doing good. Th at’s when I know that if I’ve got to put myself out, if there’s no sacrifi ce, because if there’s nothing to sacrifi ce, it doesn’t have a meaning…Th e life group is great. I think that his consideration on how he can help his group members to avoid burn-outs, demonstrates that he is doing this.

New Commitments and Virtues Th us, even if these transition themes describe a transformation of Earnest’s life, it is hard to fi nd new types of ethical commitments. I will suggest that the diff erence between his old and his new life does not primarily refer to the content of his commitments, it refers rather to the manner in which his former commitments have been intensifi ed, and in his perceived ability to live them. Th is transformation is summed up in the sentence: ‘Aft er learning, and reading, and being taught about Christianity, we’re now living it’. Earnest’s story then is not a story primarily about making new transformational commitment. It is a narrative of empowerment, of how he was enabled to live ‘old commitments’. It is worth noticing, however, that if one assesses his participation from the dichotomy of transactional- transformational commitments, it is possible to see both dimensions. Th e transformational themes of living for God’s dream, contributing to the church, and building others, blend in with several transactional themes. He enjoys being with his new fi ends, he is enjoying using his persons – stories from london 153 gift s for God, and he is proud of being a part of a church with such relevant aesthetics. Critically, one may ask why he perceives this transformation to be so radical. He served in a worship team in his former church, and at that time, he also perceived his marriage as divinely ordained, and he had ‘private time with God and the Bible’ at least in his fi rst years of attendance. Isn’t that participating in God’s drama? Is Earnest exaggerating when he describes the changes that have taken place? An answer to thess questions must be given aft er a holistic analysis of his life plot.

Vocabulary, Images and Horizon Narratives Th e Bible has been an important part of his family history for generations, and Earnest quotes scripture throughout the interview. More importantly, Earnest states that the biblical story has functioned as a dream factory for his life. Th e Bible was obviously also the horizon narrative of his previous church. What then, is the diff erence between his old and new interpretative repertoire? I will suggest that the most important diff erence between the churches as Earnest portrays them concerns their hermeneutics. Th e primary approach to biblical texts in his previous church seemed to concern how a given biblical text related to other texts, or what Earnest calls ‘theology’. I read Earnest’s ‘Shakespearean analogy’ as an implicit hermeneutical or philosophical critique. He is accusing his former church of holding a spectator theory of knowledge. Instead of playing a ‘changing the world game’, which uses the biblical script to act, they seem to play a ‘knowledge puzzle game’, which creates theological systems. Hillsong, on the other hand, seems to read the biblical text as a Th eo- dramatic action script that off ers relevant ‘maps for participation’ and performance, as we saw in Brittany’s story. Th is orientation towards dynamic performance is expressed by an interpretative repertoire that values action dynamic and that which ‘moves forward’ and ‘makes things happen’: It’s not staying still, it’s constantly striving, it’s constantly moving forward, and that’s what we wanted. Th at’s what we needed to be able to contribute, to feel that we’re building God’s house, to feel useful. Th e fi rst question in Earnest’s ‘hermeneutics’ is the question of practical application, not cognitive or narrative coherence. One of his dominant modes of being in the world seems to be practical and forward looking, 154 chapter five in the sense that he is ‘moving forward’ through practical problem- solving, and evaluating beliefs, at least in part, from the perspective of whether they make things happen. Th is practical or perhaps even pragmatic approach to truth seems to give shape to how Earnest views the world and the Bible. Th is does not mean, however, that what he describes as ‘theological Bible studies’ are irrelevant. We have seen that he started such a Bible study at the end of my fi eldwork, and I see this as a re-appreciation of the teaching he received in his former church. Th us, he is still interested to fi nd out more about what the ‘script of the play’ says, and may therefore seek theological understanding, but the value of such knowledge seems to depend on two factors. Firstly, it is only relevant as long as he feels that he has started performing a role in the play; secondly, it should also add to a concrete picture of the role that makes Earnest feel ‘useful’: Th at’s what we needed; to be able to contribute, to feel that we’re building God’s house, to feel useful… I’ve waited fi ft een years for this church, and to not only be a part of it, to be a member of it, but to actually help contribute, to help build it. It follows that the Th eo-dramatic roles or self-characters are important to Earnest. Hillsong seems to off er a universe of action-orientated imagoes, which gives him several meaningful roles. Th e most important in this passage is that of ‘building God’s house’. I will suggest that ‘building God’s house’ is an entrepreneurial metaphor, and so are ‘grow’ and ‘contribute’, if they are linked to the image of building. Hence, based on his account of entrepreneurial others, as well as his descriptions of himself, one might suggest that Earnest sees himself as part of ‘a world changing movement’ of ecclesial entrepreneurs that are changing the world aft er the blueprint of Acts 2. His role is that of an entrepreneur. His description of this self has several sub-characteristics. He is a proactive, courageous risk taker who likes challenges. More importantly, he is a fl exible and hard worker who does what it takes to build a ‘growing’ and ‘kicking’ church. It might be added that Earnest also uses these entrepreneurial metaphors in relation to people, saying that he ‘loves building people’s lives’. It is also worth noticing that the imaginative shape of ‘entrepreneurial people’ corresponds to one of the strategies that Earnest employs towards his larger socio-cultural context. He has become a self-employed soft - ware consultant. Th is is a journey, and it’s the journey that’s exciting. It’s the journey that’s life, and that’s what I want. I want to be all that God wants me to be, and persons – stories from london 155

I’m fi nding that diff erent areas of my life, as I develop, have just moved beyond what I ever thought could be. I’ve read about trusting God for so many years but, just this last year since I’ve been contracting in my job, to actually put it into practice almost on a daily basis, is just life-altering and fantastic for me. His sense of having less security, yet earning more and having time to study the Bible affi rms his perception of being empowered to act strate- gically in his everyday life. Th is also means that the shape of the economic-social game in which he participates at work also favours ‘entrepreneurial people’, and as such it provides an additional rationale for Earnest’s commitment to the church. Th erefore, I will suggest that the self-character of an entrepreneur is a key image in his story. However, it is not the only role because, like Brittany, he also employs images of family and home, and he uses the self-character of a ‘people person’ when he describes his role as a life group leader. Moreover, we have seen that relationships is an important identifi cation theme, so it seems clear that Earnest also plays ‘friendship games’. However, seen in relation to his narrative as a whole, I will suggest relational action can be interpreted as a sub-theme of the overall theme of action dynamics. Th is theme is also related to a metaphor that Earnest employs to describe his life as a whole; the image of a journey. Th is image occurred in an answer given to a question about his dreams and goals for the future: My biggest dreams and goals, well, at the moment, because photography is my emphasis at the moment, I want to be the best photographer this church has ever seen. I don’t want that as a pride, but I want to be so good, so successful but not for me. I want to be everything that God ever planned for me. Also, I kind of don’t ever want to reach it, either, because Gary had this fantastic message a while ago, that we’re all on a journey and we haven’t arrived. We’ve four-and-a-half hours of people coming to church every Sunday. We haven’t arrived. What is the goal of Earnest’s journey? It is to become all that God wants him to be. It is personal growth within the framework of God’s will. On the other hand, he also states that loyalty to the church vision is more important than his own agenda. Th us, the main focus is not individual achievements per se; it is individual and collective achievements merged together by a biblically inspired vision. Hence, Earnest perceives himself as a team-player in a church that plays an important role in ‘changing the world-game’, within the context of God’s drama. 156 chapter five

Earnest’s appreciation of such an action dynamic church comes from his interpretation of Acts 2. Th is dynamic image of the church functions as the ‘canon’ by which he ‘measures’ churches. It follows that the trustworthiness of a church does not only depend on the validity of its teaching or vision in terms of its ortho-doxy. For Earnest, churches must also demonstrate ortho-praxis to establish what might be called a strategic trustworthiness. To become a ‘real’ or authentic church, it must demonstrate a dynamic performance of the biblical script. As we have seen, this ecclesiology created a growing critical distance between Earnest and his former church. I will also suggest that Earnest’s ‘entrepreneurial’ preference for performance and action dynamics gives shape to his understanding of leadership. Above we have seen that he perceives the Hillsong leadership as empowering, in the sense that it enables people to grow. Within this framework he also refers to hierarchy and structures as ‘useful’: What I like about one of the very useful things about Hillsong, is that there’s a very, and I use this word guardedly, but there’s a very good hierarchy in place. So you’ve kind of got Gary as the general. Under him, you’ve got captains… So there’s a very good structure in place. Earnest acknowledges that directive leadership may have possible dangers. Th at’s why he uses the word hierarchy ‘guardedly’. He is also careful to point out that leadership should be visionary, but not ‘megalomaniac’, and insists that leadership should be judged by biblical standards, by each participant in the church. However, Earnest is not primarily focused on the possible dangers of strong directive leadership, he is rather enthusiastic about the possibilities that such leadership can provide, in terms of growth and results. Since he came from a church with a more democratic congregational structure, I asked him in what church he felt he had most infl uence or power. He answered: Power in my old church, infl uence here at Hillsong. Purely because by making myself available to God, I’m just by default available to the church, so then I’m able to be used to help infl uence. Th us, the main question for Earnest is not power in the organisation, it is rather the opportunity to exercise infl uence through the organisation, in terms of changing lives positively, including his own. His primary wish is to play in a team that is changing the world. In other word ‘organisational power from above’ is legitimate as long as it gives Earnest power to live in his dream – of the Acts 2 church. persons – stories from london 157

Modes of Identifi cation and Participation Earnest masters several modes of agency that give shape to his way of participating. His ability to learn new occupational skills, as well as his pondering on issues like ‘why Hillsong is so good’ demonstrate that he is a strategic and creative learner, meaning that he is capable of identifying not only the constitutive rules of a ‘social game’ or ‘occupation’, but he is also able to identify and create strategies that make him succeed within this domain. One of the reasons he is capable of being so practical and strategic is that he is refl ecting on how both things and social games work. He also monitors his thoughts and energy-level. Th us, Earnest seems to be meta-refl exive in the sense that he oft en thinks about his thinking, yet this kind of thinking seems to be primarily practically orientated. He wants to fi nd out how things work and do them better. It is also worth noticing that Earnest’s mode of identifying is not purely individualistic. To the contrary, Earnest also claims that he loves to ‘chew things over’ with others. So, even if Earnest seems to be capable of independent creative thinking, this mode can also open itself up and include relational and cooperative modes. When it comes to important decisions, such as his decision to become self employed, Earnest also demonstrates a third mode of the internal conversation: I think I was being prompted to go contracting, to take the leap to contracting, for a while before I did, perhaps a year or so. I don’t know, what I fi nd personally with my walk with God is that He’ll kind of mention something to me. He’ll whisper it, He’ll nudge me, and then I tend to ignore or not hear, and eventually something will happen where I cannot ignore. So yeah, I went for it. We just trust in God. Th us, Earnest claims that he was ‘prompted’ by God to start contracting; even though it is also clear that he had to make the decision that made it happen. I read the expressions ‘nudge’ and ‘whisper’ as forms of what I have called a ‘Spirit receptive’ mode of the inner conversation above. For Earnest this is closely connected to his ‘private time with God’. Above we saw that in relation to the burn-out problem, this is not only a way of connecting with God; it is also a way of renewing one’s motivation and establishing a critical practice of ‘testing’ the direction of the church. For Earnest this is also the mode where he shares his frustrations with God. When I asked if he identifi ed with a particular passage or person in the Bible he answered: …to a certain degree, David’s life, just because he was so real with God. Like some of my close friends at church, if I’m upset with them or if I’m 158 chapter five

upset about something, we’ll have an argument or a talk, and we’ll pick it apart. We’ll chew it over, we’ll fi ght about it. We’ll have fun together, we’ll laugh about it. Th at’s the kind of life I see he had with God. Th at’s what’s become the practical side of it. Th e day-to-day stuff , not the high stuff , just the everyday living. When David used to cry out to God, ‘Where have You gone, I can’t hear from You. What’s going on?’ According to Earnest, this is also the mode in which participants should test the leadership and the teaching of the church against biblical standards.

Process of Identifi cation and Participation However, it is worth noticing that Earnest never says that God ‘prompted’ him to change church. Th at does not mean that Earnest thinks that he is out of alignment with God’s purposes for his life. On the contrary, we have seen that he believes otherwise. It means that it was his and his wife’s responsibility to refl ect and choose. Because of his strategic individual capabilities, it is not surprising that it is hard to fi nd a signifi cant ‘helper’ in his story. Gary Clarke is an important example to him, but he has only spoken with him a few times. In Earnest’s case, role models can function as important identifi cation images in front of him. I will suggest that one can use Earnest’s description of his approach to the church teaching as paradigmatic for his mode of participating in the church as a whole. He seems to approach the church in the manner of ‘strategic self application’. Earnest was soon able to fi nd friends and meaningful roles in the church, and for this reason he and his wife chose diff erent teams: Within a couple weeks of committing, we joined teams; both of us chose diff erent teams, because I want to be useful. For this reason, I see his own individual deliberations, guided by the ideational constructs that were presented above, as key variables in his transition. Obviously, one must add the church practices to this picture. Th ese practices give the church its action dynamic credibility, and provide Earnest with an experience of making important self-transcendent contributions to a world-changing and transformational game. It is critical to see the connection between these variables, because they only function dynamically as an interconnected whole. In more simplistic terms, without the vision, photography would be a hobby; without the persons – stories from london 159 practices, vision would have no strategic credibility, and Earnest no sense of usefulness. Of these practices, the life group seems to be most important, because it has been the most stable practice, and because Earnest presents friendship as one the most important reasons for identifying with the church. In the life group Earnest participates both in terms of being a ‘receiver’ of ‘relevant conversations’ and as ‘contributor’ to the growth of others. However, as I suggested above, there are both transformational and transactional elements in his new affi liation with the church.

Personal Integration and Plot: Becoming a Church Builder Above, I have presented four transition themes manifested in Earnest’s story. At this point I will suggest a fi ft h and more latent theme. I have postponed it because it may sum up Earnest’s story, and because it is closely connected to the issue of integration. In one passage Earnest speaks about feeling guilty: To be honest, it got to a point where I just had enough. I thought, ‘Th is is just nothing, this isn’t a life. Th is isn’t Christianity, this is just going along every Sunday feeling guilty’. Th e question is: why was he feeling guilty?2 One may assume that he felt guilty because he was not living the way the church taught. However, Earnest’s account of the diff erence between the teachings of the two churches might indicate that this problem should be framed in a slightly diff erent way: I suppose I’m seventy per cent in the world. I’m working with non- Christians, I’m socialising to an extent with non-Christians, so most of my time is spent away from church. Th e teaching, when we do get it, when it’s life-application, it helps you to apply biblical principles to your life. Th ese biblical principles I’m very familiar with, but only on a sub-logical level.

2 One may ask if the kind of guilt that is described by Earnest above has affi nity with the kind of shame that Anthony Giddens links to ‘the existential question of self identity’, and the ‘fragile nature’ of a person’s biography. Shame should, according to Giddens, be understood in relation to the integrity of the self and the sense of incoherence in one’s life narrative, whereas guilt concerns the violation of codes and taboos. Th us, the discrepancy between Earnest’s visionary dream and his (narrative of his) behaviour may have created a form of existential shame; close to what Helen Lewis calls unacknowl- edged guilt. In the transition phase described above, this guilt seemed to have been articulated and acted on (see Giddens 1991, pp. 54; 65–67). 160 chapter five

It’s nothing that’s actually made an impact on my life. Obviously, my principles and morals are guided by the Bible. Th e problem seems to be that even if Earnest knew the biblical principles on a cognitive level, he lacked ‘how-to knowledge’ to put them into practice in a way that had ‘impact’ on his life. In this story, the Acts 2 dream stands out as the main dream for his life. One may ask if this dream stands out as important just because this story is told in the context of an interview about church commitment. I believe that this is possible, but there are at least three elements that seem to imply that the Acts 2 dream is important, regardless of this context. Firstly, it is worth noticing that the biblical story has been part of his family history for generations. Secondly, at the time of my fi eldwork he had taken time off to study the Bible. Finally, such dreams are not uncommon in life stories. Howard Gardner ’s (1993) study of creative geniuses shows that protagonists can identify a moment or situation in which they fell in love with a particular material or situation that created what McAdams calls a ‘commitment script’. A commitment script, according to McAdams (2006, p. 403), involves a long-term investment in ‘improving things’.3 I will suggest that the Acts 2 image in Earnest’s story functions as such a commitment script. Over time, this created a painful tension in his inner dialogue, because it became diffi cult to integrate his visionary narrative, and the narrative of his de facto life strategies into one coherent story. Th us, in this perspective, his sense of guilt can be interpreted as a reaction to a lack of internal coherence of his life story. One should not forget that this problem was not only intra-psychological; it was also theological and spiritual, in the sense that Earnest felt unable to live a life related to God. For this reason, I will suggest that Earnest may have experienced a quite severe identity crisis as he started to look for a new church. How was his identity problem resolved? An Evangelical theologian might have expected to fi nd a related story about how the message of justifying grace released his consciousness from guilt. A Pentecostal theologian would expect a story about Spirit empowerment. None of these are explicit in Earnest’s narrative. Instead, he is presenting a third way, suggested in the following quote, which refers to his study of Rick Warren’s book, Th e Purpose Driven Life:

3 Th ough McAdams’ defi nition of commitment script diff ers from the one I off ered above, in terms of both context and function, these are not necessarily incompatible. persons – stories from london 161

I’m learning to chill out with God. It’s one line in Th e Purpose Driven Life, in the fi rst chapter, that says: It’s not about me. Th at’s what I’m really beginning to understand. It’s not about me. Th e phrase ‘it’s not about me’ seems to imply that he has started to perceive his own achievements as less important. But what is it about? What is his ‘new’ focus? Th e answer may be found in the following passage: I seriously didn’t believe life with God, life with Jesus, could be this good. I am so thankful that I’m in Hillsong. I’m so thankful that God’s brought me to a place where I can grow and I can experience life, and experience it abundantly. As I said to you before, one of my favourite passages in the Bible is Acts 2. Th e ‘new’ focus is the church – or his experience of being empowered to practise the Christian life, with the collective context of an Acts 2 church, which changes the world by its collective performance. He has moved from focusing on individual achievements to becoming a part of an achieving community. Th is transformational commitment is evidently central to his life plot and to his everyday priorities. It is worth noticing that Earnest in this context perceives photography as both a personal joy and a contribution to the church. Th us, this theme, which may be called a transition from ‘feeling guilty’ to ‘enjoying life with Jesus’ and with ‘a good conscience’, also includes a new element of embracing his hobbies and his everyday activities as part of a life with God. Th us, there are several transactional benefi ts in this commitment structure as well; friendship, the sense of being part of a relevant and successful church, and simply the experience of enjoying life to a fuller extent. Th ere is, however, still an interesting duality in his approach to life. On the one side, there is an element of ‘identity travelling’ in his story, in the sense that he enjoys learning new occupations in the world and new ministries in the church. Paradoxically, this ‘journey of discovery’ seems to be grounded in a stable concern for change. On the other hand, there are also other sets of commitments that seem very stable, such as his attachments to God, to his wife, to the Bible, and the image of an Acts 2 church. Overall, I will suggest that the ecclesial vision of Acts 2, to a large degree, ‘emplots’ Earnest’s narrative. It is a story about a man who has experienced the reality of his biblically based dreams, and as such it has an affi nity with biblical stories about promise and fulfi lment. Th is story is therefore a narrative of a dream come true, or what I will call visionary 162 chapter five empowerment. Th ere is also an affi nity between Earnest’s entrepreneur and the classic romantic hero we found in parts of Peter’s story. Like the ‘early’ Peter, Earnest travels and achieves ‘success’ in many areas of life, including business, however, he is not a pure individualist, because building God’s house is his biggest dream. He is a man travelling in a heroic band of brothers and sisters, contributing to something larger than himself.

Th e Story of Pastor Dustin

Dustin is an associate pastor in Hillsong church in London. At the time of my fi eldwork, he was in his early thirties. Unlike his wife, he did not grow up in a Christian home. When he was 23, a friend introduced him to a small Pentecostal church in the British countryside, where he became a Christian: I just got invited by a friend to a church, so I went along and liked it from the fi rst time. I didn’t grow up in a Christian home at all. I just liked it from day one and said, ‘Oh, this is the best thing I’ve ever seen’.

Travelling to Hillsong Bible College Aft er fi ve years, he and his wife travelled to Sydney to become students at the Hillsong Bible College. When I asked him about what attracted him to the College, he answered: Mainly just because of what they had to off er. We’d known of it because of the music, obviously, but it was more about us wanting to personally keep growing. We sensed that God had put something big in our lives, and to be honest, we had to put ourselves in an environment where we could actually rise to that… It was very practical. You do what you do at college, but you get it straight into practice, putting it to work at church. You know, when you’re very involved, it’s not like you sit in a classroom and it’s got no application. It’s pure, one hundred per cent application. You go straight into it. So for us, that was a big thing. Th e Hillsong music may have played a role in terms of introducing them to the church, but it was their wish to grow that made them make their decision to move. However, the remark ‘we had to put ourselves in an environment where we could actually rise to that’ shows that the growth motif should be understood within the horizon of a second theme: a sense of calling. Quite early, he and his wife sensed that ‘God had put something big in their life’. Th us, this sense of calling was their basic reason for moving to Australia. persons – stories from london 163

Because of his studies and later internship, he now feels that he has been enabled to be a leader and to ‘make church happen’: Well, I don’t think I could have done what I’m doing in London if I hadn’t been exposed to Sydney. What I mean by that is the ability to make church happen. You just become a bigger person by being in that environment anyway, so that was a big change for us, being able to actually increase our capacity and ability to lead, to make decisions, to plan, to think ahead, and all that stuff . Being in that environment helped us to do that, being in college helped us to do that, which meant that I am able to be a lot more eff ective in my role in London, working with people.

Becoming Staff and Moving to London Aft er two years of studies at the Bible College, he became a member of the Hillsong staff , working closely with Brian Houston in Sydney. Later he moved to serve as an assistant pastor in London under the leadership of Gary Clarke. Being on staff and serving close to the senior leaders clearly added new dimensions to Dustin’s commitment. At the time of my fi eldwork, he described his work as ‘walking in my dreams’: So I learned a lot from just hanging around a guy like that. I’m walking in my dream, if you know what I’m saying. It’s not so much what you do; it’s who you do it with. For me, it’s not, ‘Well, one day I’ll be a pastor of my own church’. It’s not about that. It’s more about I’m actually a part of something that’s actually changing history, or having a go at changing the social climate of Europe. For this reason, Dustin has no plan of planting his own church. He already senses that he is part of a church that is in the process of becoming infl uential to the degree that it is changing history: Why would I do that when I’m already a part of something that’s having far more infl uence, far more impact? I don’t know, I just don’t see it that way. I’m serving the guys. God’s put me in their life for a reason and the reason is Hebrews 13. I want to make it easy for them, not harder. I want to contribute to the joy of their leadership, not make it harder. For me, serving another man’s vision is just the way it is, because the vision is all about the house. It’s building the house, so that’s my biggest desire. I want to do the thing Jesus said we should do. He perceives himself as man who is serving under, and contributing to another man’s vision, yet at the same time, he also believes that he is doing what God has called him to do. Th is sense of calling has at least two dimensions. Firstly, he understands what he is doing as an enactment of the biblical story and secondly, he believes that God led him to 164 chapter five the role he’s been given in church. Th is is how I read, ‘God’s put me in their life for a reason’.

Consequences of Church Participation For this reason he says that Hillsong is not a part of his life. It is his life: It is our life. It’s not a part of our life, it’s not something that we’ve added on; it is our life. We’ve given our life to it. Th is is the other side of it: you have to die to yourself, your family, all of it. Th is has radical consequences for how he spends his time and handles the pressure on his life that comes with working in a growing church. Dustin wants to do what needs to be done, even if it means ‘dying to himself’ in terms of sacrifi cing ‘things you want to do’: I noticed that when I have tension when it comes to building the House, it’s always been about what I want to do, and what’s really needed to be done. Th at’s where the tension is. You always want to know where you’re going to grow.

Th e Future – Serving in Hillsong Dustin is obviously strongly committed to the church and for this reason he also sees his future in light of the Hillsong vision. However, this commitment is based on a fundamental commitment to God: I think to be faithful to God is to be faithful to those that He puts in my life as well. To me, to be faithful to God, obviously, is just my personal responsibility to live the life that He has called me to live. To be faithful to God is to be faithful to His word, and to apply it to my life. To be faithful to God is to be faithful to what He’s called me to do, what He’s asked me to do.

Dustin’s Story – Analysis

Identifi cation Th emes – and Reasons I will suggest that the sense of calling experienced by Dustin and his wife is the theme that grounds his story. His initial travel to Hillsong was, and his present ministry is, motivated by his relationship to God and his calling. Th is calling is primarily described as a ‘sense of’ rather than in terms of a particular experience, but it nonetheless seems to have signifi cant consequences for the way Dustin leads and organises his life. When it comes to why he serves in this particular church, the ‘sense of calling’ may be somewhat weaker, but it is there in terms of a belief in God’s guidance. Dustin seems to see the ‘hand of God’ in and behind the persons – stories from london 165 process that made him one of the church’s core staff . However, this belief may also be grounded in his experience of living in his dream. I will suggest that this dream can be summarised in three identifi cation themes. Th e fi rst theme describes his relationship with his leaders. His leaders stand out in his story as attractive and trustworthy role models. At this point, it is worth noticing that Dustin was Brian Houston’s closest co-worker for two years and that he served alongside Gary Clarke for an even longer period. It follows that Dustin’s perception of Clarke and Houston is based on more than impressions from a distance. Th e following passage may explain why Dustin wants to serve with these leaders: Both Brian and Gary, they’re both completely committed to building the church. Th eir number one focus, the only thing they do, is to build the house. Th ey only do one thing, and that is, do the thing that Jesus said He would do, and that is building the church. So everything they do has to fi t within that. Is it going to build the church? Is it going to help the church, grow the church, help strengthen people’s lives? So everything they do is always focused on that. Th ey’re church builders; they build the House of God. Th eir leadership, their capacity is always based on the Bible in terms of them serving people. Th ey serve them through the ministry, preaching and teaching, and speaking. I will suggest that the qualities that are being described in this passage may be summed up as a commitment to serve. Clarke and Houston are perceived as role models who have committed themselves to serve God and the people of their churches, based on their calling. Th eir commitment is visible and trustworthy, because they have one focus and do ‘only one thing’. I will therefore suggest that their commitment is paradigmatic to Dustin’s commitment. He serves because his most important role models are perceived as committed servants. Vision seems to be the second key element that nurtures Dustin’s commitment: Th ey’re always full of vision, always thinking of what the next level looks like, always seeing the future. Th ere’s no lack of vision in Hillsong Church. Th ere’s no lack of vision in Brian or Gary, or the leadership in the church. Th ere’s always a picture of the future to move towards. As soon as there’s a day where we don’t have a vision of the future, the day we suddenly don’t have a picture of what the next level looks like, is the day it all just stops. Th e person is always growing, they’re always increasing themselves. Th ey’ve got the ability to keep it simple. Th e foundational, small things matter. Th is notion of vision seems to have several important sub-elements. First, the vision of the local church has a wider or more foundational reference. It seems to be grounded in the biblical story. Secondly, the 166 chapter five vision is praxis orientated in the sense of being a concrete ‘picture of the future’ that one can ‘move towards’. It is obvious that Dustin feels a sense of dynamic direction, provided by the leadership of his senior pastors. Moreover, there is something dynamic in this movement. Th ey are not only moving in a direction, they are also growing in terms of moving to the ‘next level’. Th irdly, the vision is simple in the sense of being comprehensible. Th is does not mean that its application cannot be discussed; on the contrary, Dustin stated that there is a constant dialogue in the pastoral team on how the vision should be applied. He states that the staff is very fl exible when it comes to methods. However, Dustin seems to have a clear sense of what they fundamentally are trying to do. Finally, this sense of direction emerges from more than the written vision statements. Dustin describes it as a kind of ‘heart connection’. As a consequence, Clarke can entrust Dustin with much freedom, in terms of how Dustin will act operationally: As soon as he opens his mouth, I know exactly what he’s saying, because I’m thinking about it all the time. So again, I’m free to do anything I want, with regard to life group hosts, anything that relates to what makes Hillsong Hillsong. If I don’t know what that is, I’ll get into trouble, but he trusts me, so I’m left to my own devices. It’s a heart connection, you see. He doesn’t sit and tell me, ‘I want it like this’. Where there’s a heart connection, it’s amazing how you’re able to do it. A third important identifi cation theme in his story concerns the dynamic of the church performance. Dustin enjoys being a part of an infl uential church that may ‘change history’. Th e church has also enabled him to contribute to this drama, by equipping him to become a leader who can plan, lead, and ‘make church happen’. In this way, Dustin can make self-transcendent contributions and be infl uential at the same time.

New Commitments Dustin articulates this as a radical self-transcendent commitment to the church. ‘Building God’s house’ has become his life. In the light of Hillsong’s vision, this statement may also carry an implicit commitment to serve society and other people through the church, but it is serving in Hillsong that has become his heart’s desire. His life, his family’s life, and other ethical commitments are seen in relation to his calling, which can be interpreted as a transformational commitment. persons – stories from london 167

Vocabulary, Images and Horizon Narratives I will suggest that Dustin shares most of the ‘interpretative repertoire’ that has been described above in the analyses of the Brittany and Earnest narratives. Th e Bible plays an important role in his story, and especially the entrepreneurial metaphor of ‘building the house of God’. Dustin also frequently employs the metaphor of a soccer game and a soccer team when he describes how the church people work together. In the church, Dustin plays a ‘world changer’ game; this is evident in his references to the church as ‘making history’. Like Earnest, he also perceives this game as a game for team players. Consider the following passage: Again, it all depends on where you get your identity from. If I get my identity from what I’m personally doing, then I’m going to have problems, but I think God needs people who get their identity from who they are inside… It’s about the team winning, not about you personally winning. It’s not about what I personally contribute, it’s what we are contributing as a team. Th ey’re the things that make it easier, but also harder, if you’ve got your own agenda. Here Dustin explicitly says that, in relation to the game, the team’s victory is more important than individual achievements and agendas. Th us, in this context, ‘dying to self’ means down-grading the priority of one’s own agenda and one’s own individual achievements for the agenda of the team. Th us overall, Dustin seems to draw on language that helps him to see himself as an entrepreneurial team-player. However, I will suggest that one can detect an important element of relational individuality in the passage above. Firstly, the phrase ‘who you are on the inside’ may indicate that one’s basic identity is found ‘on the inside’ (of the individual body) in relation to God, and precedes one’s ‘team-identity’. Secondly, if we use the football metaphor, one might also describe a transfer of status, in the sense that one is a winner if one is a part of a winning team. For Dustin, the image of building God’s house is also related to a vision of what he calls ‘genuine relational Christianity’. Based on the Acts of the Apostles, and especially Acts 2 and Acts 4, he presents an image of a fellowship of people who cared for one another and carried each other’s burdens to the degree that ‘there was no unmet need among them’. It follows that, like in the story of Brittany, growth metaphors such as ‘taking the church to the next level’ and dynamic descriptions like ‘making church work’ are also connected to relational practices of care and fellowship. 168 chapter five

Another pattern of meaning that is slightly more elaborated in Dustin’s story is the concept of servant leadership. Th e following passage shows that this kind of leadership also emerges from the ‘inside’ in terms of a serving attitude: You just get to see how important it is, the servant attitude. Th e attitude of serving people that are coming into the House of God. You get a chance not to just hear about it, or read about it, you get a chance to do it. Th at helps you; you realise it’s a bigger thing. You’re dealing with people’s lives, and you just gain a greater sense of ownership and responsibility, to actually do what God’s asked us to do. In his narrative, servant leadership can be understood as a sacrifi cial practice that also gives shape to an important self-character playing an important role throughout his story; the committed leader, who does what it takes to realise God’s vision of a growing church. Moreover, the serving attitude develops into a virtue of responsibility in terms of ‘taking ownership of the church’. Th us, this is an act of transformational commitment in which one takes ownership of the welfare of the church, beyond one’s self-interests. However, the sacrifi cial leader goes from serving ‘beyond one’s self interest’, to positioning the call of God ‘ahead of one’s own interests’. His remark ‘die to yourself, your family, all of it’, as well as his description of Clarke and Houston as men who ‘do only one thing’, are descriptions of a character that serves God in the church, and does whatever is needed – to the degree that it is more important than everything else.

Modes of Identifi cation Since Dustin emphasises that he communicates frequently with his wife in order to ‘be on the same page’, one might assume that Dustin’s mode of participation and identifi cation with the church to some degree is ‘cooperative’, in the sense that it is maintained through a communicative process with a signifi cant other. I will also suggest that it might be somewhat cooperative in relation to his leaders, as well. During the interview, in relation to me, Dustin demonstrated that he is capable of employing independent modes of agency and strategic refl ection.4 Th e problem

4 During the interview he was very cautious not to be caught up in my categories. For instance, aft er he had been talking about fl exibility, and how methods had ‘an expiration date’, I asked him if this was a kind of fl exible leadership. Instead of agreeing, he would stop and ask ‘What’s that?’. He could also withdraw into an inner dialogue during the persons – stories from london 169 with such an interaction analysis is, however, that it is, at best, only partially relevant in terms of understanding his mode of participating in relation to the organisation. His mode may change dramatically in relation to his leaders, since it is obvious that he trusts them more than he trusts an ‘outsider’ like me. His description of these leaders implies that they are more than co-workers and friends. Th ey are ‘heroes and teachers’ to whom Dustin positions himself in the role of an ‘apprentice’, or follower. However, it might be worth noticing that Gary Clarke described Dustin as a strategic thinker; he even suggested that Dustin understood the London church better than himself. Dustin also emphasised that he, and not his leaders, defi ned his life. Overall, it seems like Dustin has a wide repertoire of possible modes of identifi cation, including strategic refl ection, and for this reason I will abstain from drawing conclusions on a dominant mode.

Personal Integration and Life Plot. Th e Passionate Church Builder Th ere may be an underlying theme of being ‘elected’ in this story, which is told as ‘a dream come true’. Dustin was picked to serve as one of Brian Houston closest co-workers as soon as he had fi nished his studies at the Bible College. Since Houston is famous in the growing world of evangelical and charismatic Christianity, this story is also an account of a giant leap in terms of ‘local’ social mobility. Dustin sees the hand of God behind his dream come true, and for this reason, this story is also both a narrative of a calling to self-transcendent service and a narrative that entails motives of promise and fulfi lment, in the sense that God has empowered him to live his dream. At this point it may be fruitful to make two comments on Dustin’s life strategies. Firstly, my observations prior to and aft er the interview convinced me that Dustin spends at least 60 hours working for the church in a ‘normal week’, resulting in criticism from some people who think that he spends too much time in the church. Whether or not one agrees, I believe this shows that his visionary commitment is operationalised quite radically on the level of life strategy. interview. Th is might indicate that he is a relatively independent thinker – in terms of social relations, even though he could also invite me to join him in a more cooperative mode, fi nishing his sentences with the invitation, ‘Does that make sense?’ Th e expression can, however, also be considered a part of Hillsong’s common linguistic repertoire, because it is used by several of the preachers, as well. 170 chapter five

Secondly, Dustin also shares the notion of centring one’s life, including one’s family, on God. Th at means that he spends most of his ‘other time’ with his family and more importantly, he tries to integrate his family life into his ministry, in terms of them going to and serving in the church together. At this point it is crucial to acknowledge that Dustin also perceives his wife and himself as team: My wife and my relationship with my wife; we’re on the same page. What I mean by that is that when we got married, the Bible says that two should become one. We’ve got one focus, and that is to build the church. As soon as I have a diff erent focus from Susan, we’re in trouble. As soon as Susan has a diff erent focus than I, we’re in trouble. As Dustin suggests, this kind of radical identifi cation can only work in the long term if it is shared by both of them. Dustin’s life appears in this story as integrated by two radical transformational commitments: God’s cause and the Hillsong church. Earnest’s devotion may lead us to ask whether there are any transactional processes at all in this story. Th is is to some degree a matter of interpretative perspective. From the perspective of classical rational- choice theory, it is possible to read ‘the reward’ of being elected to be part of a dynamic church as a transactional benefi t, although this is debatable from the perspective of classic transformational leadership theory (Bass 1985). Th is will be discussed in chapter eight. Another possible transactional element in his story is the issue of employment. Th e following passage reveals that his status as an employee is relevant for how he thinks about his relationship to Clarke: I don’t sit there like a vegetable, waiting for the next idea from him, because why does he pay me then? Th us, in addition to the transformational identifi cation themes described above, there is also a sense of obligation following from the status of being an employee, which is more externally normative. Th us, both the status of an employee and the fact that he has invested much time and energy in the church may create a form of continuance commitment, based on the perceived reward of staying and potential cost of leaving. Nevertheless, in terms of life strategy and his use of time and energy, Dustin appears to be a very devoted organisational leader, whose life and life story is integrated by building God’s house. He appears to be one of the most committed persons in my material. Building the house has become his life. For this reason, I will further refl ect on his story in chapters nine and eleven. persons – stories from london 171 ) Continued ( Christ and church church Christ and struggles(feels with temptations) vision; example – being an for representative being – hard – Work (tithe) money – Give * Ethics as an expression of of expression as an * Ethics themescation commitments/virtues ‘New’ the church of e vision (house), linked to God’s God’s to linked (house), kingdom. servingcaring, who people, the for themselves die to Kingdom of God. freedom to express himself himself express to freedom style in Hillsong in relevant Pentecostal in previous than church. * A passionate church. * A passionate of – a fellowship * People * Type of worship / more / more worship of * Type * Th cation cation Other Voices from London from Voices Other to the Hillsong Church Church Hillsong the to early (describes a happy youth). * Biological family belongs belongs family * Biological friendship. * Friends, home. * Sense (ecclesial) of Overall/initial identifi Overall/initial themes identifi ‘New’ nished basic nished education. 5–10 years Sydney, less than (London, 1 year). London. from overview respondents the other an of provides table e following Th Jonathan * Male/Single. * Age:19–24. * Australian. fi * Just Hillsong, * Attendance: Table 3. Table London from Other stories background and Name 172 chapter five commitments out. New New out. commitments versus ‘inner freedom’ legalism and obligation/ (Old commitments guilt. and ecclesial biblical, are relational.) volitional towards others commitment. Christian cosmopolitan being Australian’. versus * Empowered to live old old live to * Empowered leading of ways * New being ‘a sense of * New themescation commitments/virtues ‘New’ legalistic (versus guilt guilt legalistic (versus in previous production church). people talks to Clarke that intelligent they are like beings. non-Christian to relation friends occasional (versus in previous talk’ ‘demon church). – It is practical and non- and is practical It – in the sense Empowering – in language Relevant – structure (versus hierarchies hierarchies (versus structure church). in previoud * Teaching: * Empowering relational relational * Empowering cation cation uence. God, felt a cleansing at at a cleansing God, felt conversion. of instead work, church work. at ladder’ ‘climbing in another Old convert Pentecostal Australian been elder/ an Has church. of board the of part church. previous energy, Church: in Hillsong growth for sees a potential infl and Overall/initial identifi Overall/initial themes identifi ‘New’ * Eager to learn to know know learn to * Eager to doing about * Passionate dynamics * Likes the action friends. and * Friendliness ) Cont. eldwork. background in business in business background who educated) (MBA prioritise to wanted at church and children my the time of fi Name and background and Name Debbie * Female/Married. 31–35. * Age: * Australian. is a housewife with * She 3–5 years. * Attendance: Table 3. Table ( persons – stories from london 173 ) Continued ( of renewal ective commitments to God to commitments life. church and –ethics, being an Bible representative example, trust, passion). (freedom, * New perspective on perspective on * New * Aff transforming experience transforming – sensed a worship during God. of presence caring. (versus committed in childhood resignation and warm and church) caring. services/aesthetic quality professionalism. and * Worship experience – had a * Worship * Vision. * Leaders – visionary and and – passionate * People in – excellence * Quality life. * Enjoying icts see more of the world and and the world of see more church. learn about to ‘see to - wanted church happen’ things more saved, getting (people growth) church healed, confl ecclesial versus in her stagnation and childhood church. at work. * In London for 6 months to to 6 months for London * In * Seeking dynamic action see to God* God: wanted nished basic nished in part-time ce and Free Church. Free education. Working as Working education. church at a volunteer offi job. 1 year. Ingrid * Female/Single. * Norwegian. 19–24. group: * Age in Norwegian up * Grew fi just * Has * Attendance: less than less than * Attendance: 174 chapter five integrating commitment commitment integrating other from (moving town). friendshipviews on sexuality). and struggle. evangelism. * God and the church; * God the church; and cause. God’s for * Living (new principles * God’s tempts, Satan * Tension: * Society needs Jesus, themescation commitments/virtues ‘New’ vision. e Church worship and teaching. and worship style, boring, music not down breaks expressive, prejudices. non-Christian God’s to according cause principles. everybody, (valuing Jesus). following * Spirit encounter/ during during encounter/ * Spirit life, - about content * Relevant * Th God’s for live to * Wants models role * Leaders are ‘home’. sense of * Strong cation cation background, in the sense background, she had taken a that become a to decision before. Christian Overall/initial identifi Overall/initial themes identifi ‘New’ * Susan had a partly Christian Christian had a partly * Susan ) Cont. interview) unexpectedly as they converted a Hillsong visited from service. Not background. Christian education. 1 year. Name and background and Name Table 3. Table ( Gina and Susan (shorter (shorter Susan and Gina * Female/Singles. both 19–24. * Age: * British. became converts, * New * Finished basic less than * Attendance: persons – stories from london 175 rst. important than work, work, than important ’. stuff sports, ‘other commitment - faithfulness - faithfulness commitment Godto fi ‘his world’: centre, more becoming – marriage, made stronger. relational. more becoming politics). (no time for attitude. * God as an integrating * God integrating as an as integrating * Church * Re-committed to to * Re-committed of the process * In * Serving leaders business * Sense of stronger servant * Sense stronger of nd both nd and music style. music and job done. leaders. and people stronger, servant attitude, servant attitude, stronger, in it ‘what’s sonot much for me’. relevant. music and preaching * Relevant –‘normal’ language language –‘normal’ * Relevant the get to ethic, likes * Work real and credible, * Visionary, * People: authentic passion passion authentic * People: * Vision. fi * Relevance: sense home. of * Intuitive found church, in the erence – uence achievement authentic people in Hillsong. people authentic person versus introverted, success orientated individualist. has been successful in athlete) sports (Olympic has now business, and his build to a cause found around. life saw son, as pastor’s up grew in his people ‘unreal’ of a lot left and youth, cause of the Kingdom; to to the Kingdom; of cause a diff make self- through world contributions. transcendent * Needed help with marriage. with help * Needed * Learn relational become to * Infl – people * Real ‘authentic’ * Basically committed to the the to committed * Basically interview) Christian. Church (MBA). degree. Yanker (shorter (shorter Yanker * Male/Married. 25–30. * Age: * Australian. Free * Rededicated degree, * University 1–3 years. * Attendance: Edward Married * Male/ 25–30. * Age: * British. Uni. in church. * Works 1–3 years. * Attendance chapter six

ORGANISATIONAL FOCI – WHY DO PEOPLE IDENTIFY?

In this chapter I will present identifi cation themes that appear as my respondents’ most signifi cant reasons for identifying with the organisation. In this and the following chapter I will distinguish between (1) identifi cation themes referring to organisational foci or qualities (including its geographical location), and (2) themes referring to how these qualities are relevant to the individual’s construction of their identity in terms of self-narrative and life strategies. Th is chapter will present organisational foci, whereas the next will analyse themes that describe personal relevance and investigate how these may function as resources for integrating one’s biography and life strategy. I view organisational qualities and individual relevance as relational categories, in the sense that they must be understood in relation to each other. I will therefore underscore that this distinction is analytical. How ever, this distinction is important because individuals may apply a given organisational resource in several ways. Th us, these resources have numerous possible individual applications. In the following I will present seven identifi cation themes that from a research perspective can be summarised as four types of identifi cation and three modes of integration related to personal identity, which also may function as reasons for identifying.

Th eo-Dramatic and Existential Identifi cation Th emes

Th eme 1: A Th eo-Dramatic Vision, Clear Missions and Inspiring Imagoes In chapters four and fi ve we saw that vision and visionary leadership were important identifi cation themes in several narratives, and in particular in the stories of Brittany, Marcus and Dustin. Th e churches’ visions were also important themes in the survey data from both churches. Why are visions so important? Gina gives her account of Hillsong’s vision as follows: I really respect all of the leaders there; I think they do an absolutely amazing job. One thing I think is really brilliant is how the church has a vision that you need to go for. A lot of other churches, it’s about you’re looking for 178 chapter six

something to suit you, it’s like, ‘well, I don’t know what you’re doing’. But here, everyone gets behind the same vision. Th e church is all going forward for the same thing, the same cause. All seeing the same thing and working together to make that happen. Like Earnest, Gina seems to suggest that ‘seeing the same thing’ is important. I found that the church’s vision had four ‘applications’ in both Earnest’s and Dustin’s stories in chapter fi ve. Th ree functions are also evident in Gina’s description above. Firstly, as the phrase ‘seeing the same thing’ implies, the vision creates a sense of fellowship; it evokes a shared identity, a ‘we’. It also off ers a shared micro-language, or at least some important shared categories that remind people of this ‘we’-identity, as they speak about themselves. Th is might be deeply felt. In chapter fi ve we saw that Dustin linked vision to having a ‘heart connection’. Secondly, the vision defi nes an attractive and comprehensible ‘imagined state of the future’, which means that it may guide and inspire specifi c action and function as a ‘shared grammar’ of collective action. Vision is a bodily-aesthetic term, which in these stories metaphorically refers to the short narrative the churches call their visions. It refers to what a person sees in terms of both their focus and horizon. Th is is a simple, almost banal observation, but it should not be overlooked. Vision is something people not only hear, but see in their mind or with their physical eyes as they take part in the organisational life. At this point the term drama might be more fi tting than ‘narrative’ to describe how an inspiring vision works, since dramas, as Vanhoozer suggests, show rather than tell (Vanhoozer 2005, p. 48). We have seen, particularly in the stories of Earnest and Dustin, that vision is a dramatic script that shows an image of the present and future church that is suffi ciently meaningful and suffi ciently clear to inspire concrete action. Th us, as we saw in the case of Earnest, the vision provides concrete missions or assignments. Th irdly, in this way the vision also provides inspiring imagoes to those who identify with it. Gina’s description of the attitude of ‘I don’t know what you are doing’ is illustrative of Earnest’s situation in his old church. Th e ‘theological’ teaching of his old church neither provided him with a clear image of what the church was trying to do, nor provided him with an imagoe or role that placed him in the picture. Th ere was no link between the vision and his mission, or connection between the story and his identity. However, when he discovered how he could be a ‘church builder’ in Hillsong, his self-presentation changed dramatically. Suddenly he also knew how he could contribute to God’s drama and become a ‘history-maker’. organisational foci – why do people identify? 179

Finally, for Dustin, Earnest, Debbie and Jonathan, the vision is explicitly linked to the Lukean image of the church in Acts 2. Th is means that the meaning embedded in the overarching existential horizon of the biblical meta-story infuses the visionary action-map on a meso-level, making it a part of the larger Th eo-drama. Th e vision is suffi ciently theological to be meaningful, even if it is not exhaustive in terms of expressing the church beliefs. Hence, the vision is action-empowering and meaningful.

Th eme 2: Practical Bible based Teaching Th e Biblical Narrative as Existential Horizon At this point there seems to be a strong connection between the vision of these churches and their teaching, in particular in the Hillsong Church. A signifi cant number of the survey respondents wrote that they identifi ed with the church because of its teaching and theology. Most of the respondents presented in chapter four and fi ve, with Ruth as a possible exception, seem to think of the Bible as a normative horizon narrative.1 Th e biblical narrative also seems to play an important role in other commitment stories in the interview material. Th e story of Mia and Tony, a Danish couple in their early thirties, may be particularly interesting in this regard, since they became confessing Christians through a Bible study with one of Mia’s friends prior to their engagement with the church. Mia has a background of alternative religious practices. She had been searching for the ‘spiritual thing’ throughout her adulthood: Since I was seeking, I was seeking the spiritual thing, and of course going to church every Christmas. Growing up, I thought I knew who Jesus was, I thought I knew something about the Bible. But, then I started to read the Bible, and I got really excited about all the promises and the blessings that God has for us. Th e path that He’s prepared, and that He knows us, and everything. I was really excited with the whole thing, both the Old

1 We saw that Peter, Brittany and Earnest conceived their lives as a journey and as a voyage of discovering God’s will. In the case of Earnest and Dustin, it is an underlying premise for their story that their dream is to participate in God’s drama, understood as an extension of the Acts of the Apostles. Th e story of Marcus adds another dimension, because it demonstrates that the Bible may provide exemplary images for life interpretation. For him, the life of Joseph provides a hermeneutical key and ‘exemplary paradigm’ that helps him to interpret and lead his own life. For Ruth, however, the Bible seems to be perceived more as a source of wisdom rather than the only or ultimately authoritative source. 180 chapter six

Testament and the New Testament. It was just fascinating, was just like I had found what I had been looking for ten, twelve years. I will suggest that there are at least three important elements in this passage. Firstly, Mia’s reference to the ‘whole thing’ may indicate that she now understands her way of being in the world in relation to a larger intelligible and meaningful whole. Th us the Bible functions as a symbolic universe, which includes promises and blessings that provide a sense of hope for the future, since it is reasonable to include eternal life in ‘the whole thing’. Secondly, the expression ‘the path God has for us’ seems to imply that the biblical story might provide guidance and an overall telos that gives her life direction and purpose. Th irdly, the phrase ‘I had found what I had been looking for’ implies that this story not only provides answers to questions of belief or behaviour; it also represents a passion-infusing confi guration of an ultimate concern – or what to care about ultimately. Th e Bible then is used as a resource for existential integration, in terms of providing a coherent (at least perceived as such) set of answers to fundamental human questions. Th e Bible may have several functions as such an interpretative repertoire. As we saw in the case of Earnest, Dustin and Brittany, the Bible served both as a ‘dream factory’ and as map for a journey of discovery.

Th e Bible as Empowering for Life My respondents also embraced the Bible and the church teaching, because it is perceived as empowering for everyday life. In Pinsekirken we saw that Peter found a new way of relating to his former ‘wife’ and to his business partner. In Hillsong we saw that Brittany discovered a new way of establishing friendships, and Earnest appreciated what he perceived to be ‘life application teaching’. Mia and Tony’s narrative also provides two important examples of what I will call life empowerment, in the simple sense of enabling people to live and master the challenges that arise in life. According to Mia, it was her trust in the Bible that made her hold on to their relationship in a crisis in their marriage: I think the only reason why we got through was because I am stubborn in some ways. I really like standing on the Word of God… I think that if I hadn’t been so stubborn, then the family would have split up, we wouldn’t be here today. Moreover, Tony also claims that the Bible has introduced them to certain virtues that have enhanced their marriage in several ways: I can say there’s been a change in a lot. A change in our relationships with each other, we’re more open. We communicate better today than organisational foci – why do people identify? 181

we did before, our sex life’s been better, and that’s a good thing [mutual laughter]. His wife added to this statement that love and respect were key virtues that had improved their relationship to one another and their children: I think I would have been glad to be a Christian before I got married, because of all this ‘no sex before marriage’, and we would really have to learn about each other before … the more value on the love and not the sexual part. Well, I could have learned a lot from that. Th at is one thing, but also the awareness of how we raise our children. I will suggest that Mia and Tony present a sense of ethical life mastery. Th ese passages may entail at least three elements of ‘implicit’ ethical theory. Firstly, the phrase ‘standing on the word of God’ might imply that hanging on to your marriage is a deontological rule, which at the same time is perceived as an ‘empowering principle’ that has enabled them to stay together. Secondly, the biblical narrative and its overarching telos, understood as God’s ‘path’ (see Mia’s statement above), have also given them a new understanding of love and inspired the development of certain virtues that, according to themselves, have improved the quality of their family life. Hence, thirdly, there is also an element of consequential thinking, though within the framework of the biblical horizon, that affi rms and legitimises their new understanding of rules and virtues. It follows, as we saw in the case of Earnest, that principles and rules may be applied, rather than simply ‘obeyed’, because they become means or ‘tools’ to live according to an overarching vision. Th us, Earnest seems to use the Bible and Hillsong’s teaching as a sort of ‘self-help’ resource. Although this takes place within the larger Th eo-dramatic frame of being a part of an Acts 2 church, it nevertheless also implies a form of individual empowerment. Tony also claims that the biblical story has enabled him to handle risks in a new way, giving him the courage to start his own company: Before I was a normal employee, but now I have my own company… Reading the Bible made me more secure in myself. It’s insecure to start your own company, but when I know that God is in it, everything’s possible. As a result, the family fi nances have now improved to the degree that they can give a lot of money to missions. Th is is important because they both sense that they are called to support missionaries in diff erent ways. Overall then, in Mia and Tony’s story, the Bible may answer several existential questions that Giddens (1991, pp. 47–55) sees as a part of 182 chapter six social interaction in everyday life: Firstly, the ‘path’, ‘the promises’, and ‘the trust in the Bible’ provide answers to the nature of existence, in terms of the basic identity of objects. Th ey are now seen as part of God’s world and in the light of his plans and purposes (‘the whole thing’). Secondly, they believe in promises of a life beyond the fi nitude of human life, and, thirdly, the biblical concepts of ethics seem to help them to interpret traits and actions of others and respond more morally. As a result, both Mia and Tony seem to have an increased sense of the ‘livea- bility’ of the world or, if one likes, ‘ontological security’. As we saw in chapter fi ve, the same applies to Brittany and Earnest who have found such a frame of life within the vision of the church. Even though it is the Bible, and not the church’s teaching of it, that plays the main role in Mia and Tony’s story, it may still explain why people identify with churches based on the notion of ‘Bible-based’ teaching. In the stories in chapters four and fi ve, we have also seen that biblical images, principles, and rules become, as in this story, sort of ‘tools’ that help people to approach and to some degree handle such important issues in their life as their marriage, their relationship to their children, their work, and their fi nances.

Relevance and the Socio-Cultural Context As we have seen, both churches seek to off er ‘relevant’ teaching that connects the lives of the respondents to the biblical narrative, and the participants’ stories seem to confi rm that they are fulfi lling this aspiration to a signifi cant degree. However, the issue of relevance may obviously also be seen in a broader perspective. I will suggest that the fact that biblical rules are interpreted as a kind of ‘tools’ for empowerment, may be conditioned by a cultural situation in which neither the Christian ethos nor the authority of the other meta-narratives are taken for granted or imposed on agents. Th is leads people like Mia and Tony to seek identity- forming narratives and ethical guidelines that can help them to manoeuvre in a ‘runaway world’. In other words, in a cultural situation where their authority is not taken for granted, biblical norms may be discovered as something existentially empowering, particularly for new converts. Th e way Earnest uses the Bible for self-application for individual empowerment may obviously have affi nity with utilitarian self-help literature,2 in the sense that he employs certain principles, and grows

2 Th e roots of self- help literature may be found in utilitarian individualism. Bellah (2008 et al., p.32) sees Benjamin Franklin’s autobiography (Farrand 1949) as a secular organisational foci – why do people identify? 183 virtues ‘to move forward’ in life as a successful entrepreneur, also on the outside of the church domain. Th is is at least a plausible interpretation if his way of applying the Bible is seen in light of Brian Houston’s teaching about biblical principles and successful living (see chapter three). It is also possible to interpret Tony’s ‘new entrepreneurial faith’ as a refl ection of a theological thinking that is somewhat infl uenced by utilitarian individualism, but it can also be read as a response to certain structural characteristics of late modern society, and particularly the economic structure. Ulrich Beck and Elisabeth Beck-Gernsheim suggest that the institutionalisation of individualism in the late modern context creates an individualised society of employees, in which inequalities become redefi ned in terms of an individualisation of social risks (Beck and Beck-Gernsheim 2002, pp. 39–40). Th e entrepreneurial strategy of self employment, used by Tony, Earnest and Peter (who was self- employed before his conversion) may therefore be perceived as one way of handling this risk, and as such it may be regarded as what Beck and Beck-Gernsheim call ‘biographical solutions to systemic contradictions’ (Beck and Beck-Gernsheim 2002, p. xxii). It is worth noticing that some major theological-philosophical themes, such as the problem of suff ering, did not explicitly show up in the material. When Gina and Susan claimed that they fl ourished in every area aft er they started to attend Hillsong, I asked them if they had any problems at all. Susan answered: Oh, all kinds of problems. We moved to the London area, and we basically got kicked out of where we were living. We got here, and everything just seemed to go wrong… She [the lady we moved in with] said, ‘Well, actually the house is a bit crowded, and basically we’re sorry that we asked you to move in, because you need to go’. We were like, ‘Okay, how long have we got?’ We hadn’t got jobs at this point. She was like, ‘As soon as possible’. When I asked them how they dealt with the situation, they answered: Just pray. You can’t do anything else. Just trust in God, know that God’s working in you. And He did, because we’re now living in Hillsong’s house. We just trusted in God, just learned to say in situations like that, it’s not about, ‘Why is this happening to me?’ it’s like, ‘Okay, God, this is bad, but what do you want me to learn from this?’ version of John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. Franklin was also inspired by enlightenment philosophy, and his thoughts about freedom and justice, followed from his understanding of success (see Bellah 2008 et al., p. 33). McAdams views his Franklin’s book autobiography as the fi rst and essential self-help book that gave birth to this American genre (see McAdams 2005, pp. 34 ff ). 184 chapter six

Th is passage shows that life empowerment and fl ourishing also (but not only) is a matter of how one interprets one’s life. When things go right, they confi rm the idea of fl ourishing, when things go wrong, it is interpreted as a learning experience. However, it also demonstrates a common attitude among my respondents. People basically seemed to have a pragmatic approach to their problems in the sense that they tried to learn in or from the situation, and solve it with every means possible, and all the while they trusted God at the same time. As we saw in chapter four, Peter both prayed and went to the doctor to be prescribed Antabus. It seems as though instead of asking Th eodicy questions, my respondents are accepting life as it is, and then working on it, using the Bible as problem- solving tool.

Issues of Truth Does this mean that truth is unimportant? Th e fact that people discover the biblical narrative as a framework for constructing their identity and ‘use’ it as a practical tool in their lives can be interpreted as a confi rmation of the assumption that post-modern people move away from meta-narratives and from a search for truth, to a search for fi nding oneself and solving problems in their micro-cosmos. However, it is worth noticing that Mia’s phrase ‘standing on the word of God’, in Pentecostal and charismatic circles oft en denotes a practice of believing in the truth of the Bible, even in the face of diffi cult circumstances. Th e issue of truth is equally important in Tony’s story about how belief in the Bible inspired him to start his own company; he would probably not have taken the risk if he did not believe that the Bible was ontologically true. Th us, even if identity and life mastery are important themes in Mia and Tony’s story, these questions are also connected to the issue of ontological truth, there is a connection rather than a distinction between doctrine as a ‘grammar’ for living and its ontological ‘propositional’ truth-value. Ruth’s narrative demonstrates that an ethics of truthfulness may involve sacrifi ces for that which is both good and true. Th e same applies more or less to the rest of my respondents. Even if the Bible is read as a regulative-empowering source that helps them to live together and solve individual problems, the Bible is also perceived as an ontological true source of knowledge, beyond its ‘pragmatic usefulness’. It is basically perceived as the Word of God, and I will suggest that most of the ‘life scripts’ that were presented in chapter four seem to be what Douglas Propora calls ‘cosmogonic’, in the sense that certain ethical behaviour organisational foci – why do people identify? 185 follows from the way the world is ‘constituted and constructed’.3 Even Ruth, who might be an exception, because she doesn’t go as far as declar- ing the Bible to be the Word of God,4 still seeks ‘true answers’ to the nature of her life-transforming encounter. Th us, in no cases is the question of ontological truth irrelevant.

Th e Nature of Post-Denominational Ideational Identifi cation On the respondent level, I met people from a variety of denominational backgrounds in both churches. Th e survey data confi rmed that as many as 20.8 per cent of the attendees in Pinsekirken had a Lutheran background, whereas 11.7 per cent of the smaller sample in Hillsong came from the Anglican Church.5 Moreover, there were few references to terms like ‘Pentecostal’ in the survey material.6 Several respondents referred to the church’s teaching, preaching, or to the church itself as ‘Bible based’.7 I interpret this to mean that the participants prefer to express their belief in terms of the ‘wider reference’ to the Bible, or the narrower frame of the church’s preaching or its vision, instead of the mid-level of denominational beliefs or doctrine. At this level, many respondents can be interpreted to be what I have called ‘eclectic ecumenicists’ above (see chapter three). Th is does not mean, however, that truth is unimportant; theological disagreement may create a systemic push towards change of ecclesial structure, precisely because people are not ready to give up important parts of their beliefs, such as baptism.

3 Propora 2003, pp. 73–74. A similar conception is formulated by Geertz : ‘Th e ethos is made intellectually reasonable by being shown to represent the way of life implied by the actual state of aff airs, which the world view describes’ (Geertz 1973, p. 127). 4 Ruth might be considered an exception, since she defi nes herself as a beginner in relation to the Bible. 5 A number of participants from other Free Churches could probably be added. Unfortunately, there are no statistical data available because of a methodical mistake. In the survey, under religious background, people could mark the option ‘other free church’, which is a problematic category, because Pentecostals would consider their previous church another free church, as well. 6 One might add that the term ‘Pentecostal’ did not appear as a reason for belonging in any of the survey responses in London. One respondent out of 55 used the word Evangelical, and one of the respondents explicitly wrote theology instead of teaching, or Bible based. In Pinsekirken, 4 of 83 references to teaching and theology, presented ‘Pentecostal’ or ‘doctrine’ as one of their three most important reasons for identifying with the church; 3 out of 4 of these respondents were over 60 and ‘born’ into the church. One respondent referred to ‘læren’, which may be translated ‘doctrine’, the others referred to the Bible or to the teaching. 7 Overall 5.9% of the references in Hillsong (18.2% of the respondents) and 8.8% of the answers in Pinsekirken (25.7% of the respondents) grounded their identifi cation in the church’s teaching or biblical foundation. 186 chapter six

Th e Bible as a Critical Resource Th eology therefore still is important. I will suggest that the question of truth also is involved when people refuse to believe in the church’s teaching, or take part in a certain practice. In chapter three we saw that there were several ideational tensions in Pinsekirken. Alternative horizon narratives seem to inspire disagreement concerning the three major confl ict themes; the church’s teaching on sexual relations outside of marriage, its recommendation for homosexuals to live in celibacy, and its rejection of the idea of reincarnation. I hold it likely that many, if not the majority, of the new converts who have chosen to leave the church for any of these reasons may not share the church’s basic premise that the Bible is the authoritative ‘Word of God’. However, in some cases, the Bible may also be thought of as a resource for critique. Regine expressed her doubts concerning the church’s view on sexuality in this way: Except some things, well this church says that the Bible says that you can’t make love to another person before you’re married. Th e phrase ‘this church says that the Bible says’ implies that it is not the Bible, but the church’s interpretation of it that is her main concern. Th us, she establishes some critical space in relation to the church, not against, but rather with the Bible. Likewise, Mia openly disagrees with Pinsekirken’s traditional approach to female leadership: I think it was very easy in the beginning because I’m sort of like, open and everything. But I think being in it, and seeing the Word, I get so furious [mutual laughter] because I come from the outside, because it’s so male- dominated. It sucks! It is obvious that the Bible may have its limitations as a critical source, and that this critique draws on extra-biblical terminology, but it also entails a clear reference to the way she is ‘seeing the Word’. It follows that even if her critique may be infl uenced by some versions of feminism from the ‘outside’, she still presupposes that her critique is compatible with a biblical world-view. Th is might lead us to suggest that new converts with ‘outside’ perspectives may expand the frame of how the Bible can be used as a critical resource. Th e Bible as a resource for church critique was evident also in Hillsong material when people described under which circumstances they would leave the church, or evaluate the church’s leadership. In the case of Earnest, he expected the leaders to model their life in accordance with the biblical story, otherwise he would leave the church. organisational foci – why do people identify? 187

Defi ning Existential and Th eo-Dramatic Identifi cation I believe that the fi rst and second identifi cation themes may be summed up as sub-types of what I will call Th eo-dramatic existential identifi cation. Th is is a form of ideational identifi cation in the sense that people identify with an organisation, because of certain ideas or narratives that they associate with the organisation. Th is narrative is existential in the sense that it provides a meaningful frame for their lives that helps people to answer basic existential questions. However, the metaphorical use of the ‘vision’ implies that these answers should be described in a way that provides images of and not notions of action. More importantly, the practical approach to the Bible, that is demonstrated in several stories, and explicated in Earnest’s use of the ‘Shake- speare play’ metaphor, implies that life is understood as participation in God’s history, and that the Bible is understood as a script that empowers actors to play an important part in this drama. Th is form of identifi cation with the biblical story, which enables the participant to view him- or herself within this drama, and take part in it in a meaningful way, is what I mean by Th eo-dramatic identifi cation.8 Meaning then should not be reduced only to cognitive patterns. Th e stories and imagoes presented in the church teaching are practical, in the sense that they show how the person can play an important part in the drama – and solve existential challenges. In this sense they are also action-orientated. However, at the same time, Th eo-dramatic identifi cation among my respondents builds on the assumption that the script is ontologically true in the sense that it corresponds to God’s perspective on the world.

Th emes Describing Practice Performance Identifi cation

Th eme 3: Professionalism and Updated Aesthetics Th e fi rst identifi cation theme concerns the church’s means of communication. Above, we saw that Earnest’s fi rst impression of the Hillsong church was the visual experience and the energetic music. Th e same applies to Susan and Gina; two new converts in their early twenties who travelled to London to party, but, to their own surprise, decided to

8 Th is notion of life as a Th eo-drama is less sophisticated than, but nevertheless relatively compatible with, Kevin Vanhoozer’s (2005) excellent theological exploration of the Drama of Doctrine. 188 chapter six convert one Saturday night in the Hillsong church. When I asked them about the diff erence between Hillsong and other churches they answered: It’s relevant. It’s like every part of it is for today, and it’s like it’s alive, it’s living, and in no way, shape or form is it boring. Th ere’s just complete life, and it breaks people’s perceptions of what the church is all about. Like when you’ve got all these rules and you’re not allowed to do this, and it’s like, ‘no, not at all’. Because I always show people at work this website, and they’re like, ‘Th at’s not church, it’s a concert,’ and I’m like, ‘A concert for the glory of God’. You could buy shoes and put them in a bag and just give it to someone, or you could buy the same thing and package it diff erently, so that it is relevant and interesting and attractive to people, which is what Hillsong does. But they’re not changing the message. Th e message is the same, but the way they present it, the method, needs to be relevant to the general population, and that’s what Hillsong does. What is evident in this passage is that these girls identify with the church because it is ‘living’ and ‘not boring’, and because it presents Jesus in an ‘attractive’ and ‘relevant’ way to their friends. Relevance refers in this context to the graphic profi le (web-site), music style (concert, package), and a celebratory ‘party-like’ practice mode (like a concert; not boring). In other words, one of the aspects they fi nd attractive about Hillsong is its aesthetics, and the way they perform church. We have also seen that the church’s teaching is seen as relevant in terms of being applicable to everyday life. Th e survey respondents in Copenhagen also present the church as up-to-date and modern, but they add that the church is off ering an attractive combination of modern worship and traditional music. Here there is a diff erence between the churches, in the sense that Hillsong has chosen a narrower and more clearly contemporary aesthetic profi le, described by my respondents as ‘modern, young and funky’. In both churches professionalism and excellence were most oft en linked to music, but it could be a more general reference to ‘how church is done’.

Professional Aesthetics and the Aesthetics of the Professional Above we saw that this aspect of church life was important to Earnest in his fi rst encounter with the church. Moreover, because of its professionalism and aesthetics, he is proud of presenting the church and its practices to his friends, whereas he was embarrassed about his previous church. Th e same applies to John, a staff member in Copenhagen who also came from a more traditional and old-fashioned Pentecostal church: I think one reason is maybe that now I have a church that I would be proud to have people visit. To be honest, I didn’t have that before. Th at makes it organisational foci – why do people identify? 189

very easy to be very bold, also. Th at you know that you have something that you could involve people in, that I can be proud of, both when it comes to church activities and other activities in this church. Even though John speaks about professionalism related to activities, I will suggest that there is an element of aesthetics involved as well, since professionalism in this passage is valued in terms of communicative worth. In both John and Earnest’s cases, the aff ective terms ‘pride’ and ‘embarrassment’ might say something about the relationship between organisational aesthetics and their own self-presentation, in relation to their friends. In other words, organisational professionalism is connected to the participant’s identity as a form of aesthetic self-presentation.

Th e Late Modern Context and Aesthetics as a Confl ict-Th eme Th is might refl ect the importance of ‘aesthetics’ for late modern people’s identity and self-presentation. When this aesthetics is presented as modern, this is an explicit link to late modern aesthetics. However, at the same time it seems clear that the late modern context represents a plurality of subcultures and aesthetic modes. For this reason, it is not diffi cult to see that questions of aesthetics may become important confl ict-themes in multi-generational churches, like Pinsekirken. Th is church employs a wider repertoire of musical genres in their main service on Sundays, including some traditional Pentecostal songs, yet older people still fi nd the more ‘contemporary’ music to be ‘noisy’ (this is not to say that this critique might not have other dimensions as well). However, even the Hillsong church – which was called relevant, young, funky and modern by my respondents – can also be criticised for not being (post-) modern enough by some of its critics from the emerging church movement.9 Andrew Jones, or ‘tallskinnykiwi’, says: …yesterday was my daughter’s birthday (turned 11) and she wanted to go to a kids’ church. We took the whole family to… you will hate me for saying this, Hillsong London… Like Willow, Saddleback, and their derivatives, they are doing a great job in attracting suburbanites to a church service that is done well (excellent is the term of choice). Not my style, I need to say. Th e music I listen to is not WHAM or Britney (look at the left column for what I am listening to and 80’s easy listening rock is not one of my choices). And I feel talked down to when the pastor starts the ‘How many of you…’ questions… Th ere are some people whose lives are boring, and they need some loud poppy Jesus music to sing to, a message to boost them

9 Andrew Jones is one the most quoted leaders in Gibbs and Bolger ’s book on the emerging church, see the index in Gibbs and Bolger 2006, p. 341. 190 chapter six

up for the next week, and colourful graphics that make them feel that they are part of a movement that is lively and happening. Th ese churches succeed in what they set out to do. And we should congratulate them, not get snobbish and elitist.10 I will suggest that his reference to the left column is presenting himself as a superior aesthetic evaluator. Th is demonstrates the diversity of aesthetic preferences in the late modern world, implying that it is impossible to be aesthetically relevant to all, and perhaps particularly to those who seek uniqueness, and therefore want to avoid the ‘mainstream’.11

Th eme 4: Dynamic Practices, and Organisational Growth In the stories that were presented in depth above, Brittany, Earnest, and Dustin share one important leitmotif. Th ey perceive themselves as part of a dynamic church that lives and enacts the biblical vision of an Acts 2 church, and thus performs well in the drama of God. In the six other interviews in London, I found two other respondents, both female, who seemed to narrate a similar identifi cation theme. One of them is Debbie, an Australian woman in her early thirties, who recently left her job and the fruits of her MBA education in order to spend her time as a housewife and as a volunteer in the church in London, claiming that she would rather ‘do church work’ than ‘climbing the ladder at work’. Th e other is Ingrid, a Scandinavian girl who had moved to London to ‘learn how church works’ because she wanted to be in a church where people were being ‘saved and healed’ and ‘much happened’. All of these respondents then seem to identify with Hillsong because ‘it works’, in terms of dynamic action or what, based on the Acts 2 vision, might be called dynamic Th eo-dramatic performance. In the Danish stories this theme was not dominating in the stories presented above, but it was nonetheless present, particularly in Marcus’ story where ‘changing the world’ may be interpreted as an underlying theme that fuels his inner debate on the right ecclesial strategy. Th e theme did also appear in the story of John, who seemed to be the most result-orientated staff member in Pinsekirken.

10 Tallskinnykiwi is ‘the blogged pilgrimage of Andrew Jones’. See http://tallskinnykiwi.typepad.com/tallskinnykiwi.Th e text appeared on 26 January 2004. 11 Even though it may be fair to say that my respondents would probably disagree with Jones’ allusions to the 1980s, since Hillsong renews its repertoire every year and since a former worship leader, who also produced their fi rst CD, is the singer Natasha Bedingfi eld, who hardly fi ts this description. organisational foci – why do people identify? 191

In the analysis of the survey material, I found it useful to distinguish between three types of dynamic performance. Firstly, one respondent in London wrote that: ‘Hillsong lives what I believed’, whereas a Danish respondent wrote that the church was ‘acting according the word’. I call this construct ‘Th eo-dramatic life dynamics’. Secondly, a specifi c aspect of this kind of dynamics is what I call missional dynamics, in terms of being a church that fulfi ls its evangelistic mission with some eff ect, or in the words of a respondent: ‘We are moving, growing and changing lives’. Th irdly, this statement may also be read as a reference to a third kind of dynamics that I call ‘growth and size dynamics’. In London, references to size were primarily linked to growth and to the dynamic language of ‘moving forward’ and ‘making church happen’. Th is could be called system performance, in the sense that people feel that they are part of a well-functioning, dynamic, and growing organisation. Within the context of Pinsekirken, ‘size dynamics’ might be read less as dynamics and more as a demographic construct. Some of the respondents linked size to numerical growth, as in Hillsong, whereas others spoke about size in terms of hosting many activities, generations, and ethnicities, as in the stories of Ruth and Mahmoud.

Performance Dynamics and the Socio-Cultural Context Th e appreciation of Th eo-dramatic performance may also be seen in relation to the social context. As we saw in the case of Brittany, it may be important to be part of a church with a vision and a size that can match the experience of being in a large and dynamic metropolis. Th e same applies to Ruth and Mahmoud, who due to their ethnic backgrounds and multi-cultural experiences wanted to fi nd a multi-cultural church in what they experience as a multicultural world. One may also ask whether the appreciation of growth or system performance may have roots in the infl uence of ‘secular interpretative repertoires’. Zygmunt Bauman suggests that the only two types of author- ities left in ‘liquid modernity’ are those of experts and that of numbers (Bauman 2001, p. 63). At times one can also hear the leaders argue for the pursuit of church growth through commonsensical idioms like ‘everything healthy grows’. Th ese idioms may be read as belonging to a discourse on organisational growth in more general terms. Brittany and Earnest, who work in the market place of private enterprise, may also appreciate the organisational growth that makes them part of a ‘success story’ from the logic of the market capitalism, or if one likes, from the perspective of utilitarian individualism. Bellah and his 192 chapter six colleagues (2008, pp. 39–46) propose that there are several key images to the utilitarian mode of thinking; such as the independent citizen, the self-made entrepreneur, and the successful manager or organisational leader.12 According to Bellah and colleagues (Bellah 2008 et al., p. 45), the essence of this kind of managerial leadership is to ‘persuade, inspire and manipulate’ those the manager leads so that the organisation ‘measures up to the criteria of eff ectiveness shaped ultimately by the market’. However, I will nevertheless maintain that ‘success’, among my respondents, is reinterpreted within a Th eo-dramatic context. My distinction between Th eo-dramatic life dynamics and growth dynamics makes little sense from the respondents’ perspective. In their stories, the value of church growth is motivated from the ‘missional’ vision of an Acts 2 church. Growth then is about a functional Christian community that performs Th eo-dramatically well for God’s sake, and for the sake of the salvation of the world. I believe one should grant Earnest and Dustin the point that Luke several times speaks about the number of people that were ‘added to the church’ (in Acts 2:41–47; 5:14), and that growth therefore may be seen as a principal motive in the book of Acts, and in Luke’s portrayal of the early church.13

Practice Performance Identifi cation Defi ned I will suggest that, in any event, these themes may be subsumed under the more abstract terms ‘performance identifi cation’ and ‘system performance identifi cation’. Performance, in relation to professionalism and aesthetics, may be summed up in the phrase ‘getting things done beautifully’. Th e second theme – action and systems performance – seems in these contexts to be Th eo-dramatically qualifi ed and related to vision. Yet, the main criterion of performance is, according to my respondents, whether church or ‘authentic Christianity’ ‘happens’. Th e church is valued for its eff ect in terms of growth and impact, measured by dynamic performance (results), or numerical growth. In sum then, practice performance identifi cation means that people are identifying with the church because they sense they are part of a practically and aesthetically

12 Th e role of the professional manager is important because the modern bureaucratic organisation may be perceived primarily as a utilitarian corporation. See Bellah 2008 et al., pp. 39–46. 13 Luke 4 is a portrayal of the continuous life of the early church. Bock (2007, p. 154) suggests that the church is portrayed as ‘an eff ective community’ growing at a regular pace. organisational foci – why do people identify? 193 skilful organisation that lives its vision in a way that makes a diff erence in the world.

Th emes Describing Relational Quality Identifi cation

Th eme 5: A Community and Friendships with Family Qualities In the analyses of the six stories that were presented above, I found that close relationships with signifi cant others were very important for all six protagonists. For Brittany, Ruth, Peter, and Earnest, friendships were important reasons for identifying with the church, whereas relationships with the senior pastors seemed to be crucial for staff members, such as Dustin and Marcus. Motives of friendship and relationships, relational qualities, and a sense of community also played an important role in the other commitment stories, and were frequently referred to in the survey material. I will suggest that these themes may be summed up in two overarching relational themes.

Friendships and Relationships Th e fi rst may be called fi nding a family-like community, which provides friendships in a big city. Th is theme is, as we have seen earlier, the leitmotif of Brittany’s story. What makes such friendships an important reason for identifi cation? Jonathan, a young man who has grown up in a Hillsong family, provides some clues to answer this question: We all have diff erent times and seasons in our lives, and the true friends are the ones who are there for all the seasons. I defi nitely want to be there for my friends through thick and thin, just be alongside them, I guess, and be encouraging, and help them move forward and grow, just like they do with me. I’ve got friends who are committed and so loyal to me, and just believe in me so much, and I want to be that to them as well… He’s just the best example of how to be such a good, committed man of God, but still be crazy and have fun, and still be young… Th e last time we were together… there wasn’t much sleeping going on. It was a lot of running around and partying and having fun. Just young guys running around out in the country, hurting ourselves, jumping off things and climbing things, falling down things, breaking things. Some good worship times, a lot of good ping-pong championships. [laughter] Snow fi ghts and paintball, silly stuff , great stuff . Jonathan’s description of friendship has several dimensions that are recognisable from the longer stories, presented in chapters four and fi ve. Firstly, people seem to enjoy one another’s company. Th is means that 194 chapter six friendship includes the elements of pleasure and mutual enjoyment described by Jonathan above and by Peter in chapter four. Secondly, Jonathan also describes friendship in terms of mutual support and, as we saw in Peter’s story, this can have practical dimensions such as mutual childcare. Th e theme of support is essential to the practice of life sharing that is so important for new converts like Ruth. However, there is a third element in this story; the description of his friend as a ‘committed man of God’ seems to imply that they share a conception of an ultimate good, which is grounded in the biblical story. Th us, their friendship and fellowship is also integrated by common beliefs and a larger meta-story.

A Sense of Community and Fellowship Th e same applies to people’s sense of community beyond the small group. Mahmoud is a former Muslim and political refugee who has become a Christian, and for this reason it is important for him to belong to a multi-ethnic community that he perceives as tolerant. However, it is important to notice that although he ‘already had a lot of other friends’, he comes to church because he needs a distinct Christian community. Th e survey respondents also added a number of other interesting qualifi ers to the relationships they experienced in church, such as friendly, hospitable, and warm. Th ey also viewed the church as a spiritual community, as a fellowship of faith around Jesus, as a fellowship of common vision, and as a community of shared ministry. However, most people simply wrote fellowship or community.

Metaphors for Personal-Relational Identifi cation: Family and Home Home and family were nevertheless the most frequent descriptions. We have seen that these metaphors to some degree sum up the narratives of Brittany and Ruth. Experiences of community at the meso (church) and micro (friendship, small-group) levels seem to create an intuitive sense of home that may be elaborated through personal refl ection. When she came home from Hillsong the fi rst time, Susan said, ‘You just couldn’t get the “welcome home” out of your head’. Th e word ‘home’ then seems to be an emotionally powerful word. Yet, in these churches it is also linked to certain practices. I fi nd that Gina and Susan’s story may provide interesting insight to how one can relate to the church as ‘home’. When I asked them what it meant to them to be faithful to the church, Susan answered: Well, I believe that’s where God called me to be, so to be faithful to that church is about building God’s house and that’s what Jesus is coming back organisational foci – why do people identify? 195

for. It’s God’s house, so you can’t be anything but faithful. Th ey’re our family. Th ey’re our brothers and sisters, so we’ve got to be faithful to the people in there. We’re committed to that house. Th is answer reveals that their commitment to the church is grounded in a fundamental commitment to God. However, the metaphors of home and family conceptualise this relationship in a way that transcends a purely individualistic understanding of their faith. Th ey believe with one another and belong to one another. Moreover, these metaphors also aff ect the way people think about their friendship. Gina and Susan persistently insisted that they were ‘sisters, and not just friends’.

Relational Qualities: Love as Hospitality and Serving Care Th e sense of home is created and experienced through concrete relationships and practices. Gina and Susan’s story points to certain relational virtues that make people feel ‘welcome’ at fi rst, and ‘at home’ over time. Th ey’re speaking to you, and they’re saying, ‘Hi, how are you’, but they’re not saying it because they’re there to say it, they’re saying it because they want to. And you know that they want to know you, and know your life, and they want to get you connected to God and diff erent people…making people feel at home, and welcome home…it really did me in. It was like, ‘Th is is home’. Th ere’s just so much love, and you know that these people really, genuinely care for you. At this point ‘family’ is clearly more than a semantic or narrative reference. Experiences of love were frequently referred to as a reason for identifying by the survey respondents. Th e last part of this quotation is almost identical to Marcus’ description of his leader, and may qualify love, more specifi cally as hospitality, at ‘fi rst’, and serving ‘care over time’.14 Th ese relational qualities are also well documented in Brittany’s story.

Relational Identifi cation and the Socio-Cultural Context: Finding a Family in the Big City At this point I will comment briefl y on a possible connection between the family metaphors and ‘contextual social variables’. As we saw in the case of Ruth, for people who for diff erent reasons may have lost their family, the possibility of connecting to small groups in the church represents an important identifi cation theme in a story of personal restoration.

14 Th is is an emic description; love will also be discussed on a more normative level in Chapter 12. 196 chapter six

In London it was also evident that such identifi cation motifs could be periodic. Many of my contacts in Hillsong have moved away from their families in South Africa or Brazil to study in a big and exciting city. One of the respondents in the survey wrote that Hillsong was her ‘home away from home’. Big cities like London and Copenhagen may be experienced as increasingly ‘too large’, as in the case of the ‘early’ Brittany, or linked to the globalisation of risks, which might have played a role as fear arose in Nina aft er 9/11, 2001.15 Th us, people seek a family and a home in a large city that is full of both opportunity and risk. Th e church may represent a sense of security, but also an opportunity. Earnest seems to celebrate London as a city of opportunities. However, for many respondents, like Ingrid and Jonathan, it was both exciting and threatening.16 Th e dynamics behind this kind of relational identifi cation may be slightly diff erent depending on whether people have grown up in the church or not, and whether their family is a part of the church or not. In the case of Peter, we saw that his concern for his daughter was one of the most important reasons for identifying with the church. In the survey material, many adults presented Pinsekirken’s children and youth ministry as reasons for their identifi cation with the church. Since Pinsekirken is a more multi-generational church, I found a larger group of people who reported they had grown up in the church, or that they identifi ed with it because of kin or family activities (11.5%). In London I met only one person, Jonathan, who had grown up in a ‘Hillsong family’, in Sydney, and described the church as his home and family, linked to fact that his biological family also belong to the church.

Th eme 6: Connecting to Caring Growth Models and Trustworthy Pathfi nders In the case of Brittany, we saw that close relationships with family qualities also created personal growth and that Brittany wanted to connect with friends who also were role models. Likewise, in Peter’s case, fi nding friends was not only a matter of friendship; it was also a matter

15 As we saw above, she feared for a new world war aft er 9/11, and even though it primarily initiated a search for God, I will suggest that a new sense of security also may be grounded in a new sense of community. 16 Ingrid perceived the city as expensive and challenging, Jonathan perceived it as stressful in terms of pace, and with others, he also perceived a need for friends in a city that was full of both opportunities and people with a ‘me-attitude’. organisational foci – why do people identify? 197 of fi nding sparring partners and a ‘spiritual mother and father’. Th us, relational identifi cation concerns more than love and acceptance; it is also linked to caring role models for personal growth. Th ere are at least two levels of role models in the commitment stories. Leaders on the fi rst level are ‘face-to-face’ role models, like Brittany’s mentors, or what Peter calls his ‘spiritual mother and father’. In some cases, like in the case of Ruth, leaders may be considered more important than leaders on the pastoral level. In most other cases, however, there seem to be interplay between face-to-face role models on the one side, and pastoral leadership on the other. In Brittany’s story, her ‘proximate leaders’ seem to provide her with opportunities to serve, and with emotional support and practical advice in addition to being role models, while pastor Clarke appears in her story primarily as an empowering teacher and role model. In the stories of pastors Dustin and Marcus, these levels merge, for obvious structural reasons.

Role Model Identifi cation as Gendered To some degree, role model identifi cation seems to have a gender dimension, particularly among men, as we saw in the stories of Marcus and Earnest. Most of the men in the material had male role models, whereas women such as Brittany seemed to identify with both men and women. However, one could argue that Bobbie Houston played an important role as female role model in Brittany and Regine’s narratives, since it was the female pastor who received most attention in their stories. Th us, there is a tendency towards identifying with role models of one’s own gender. It is also obvious that it is easier to fi nd male identifi cation fi g- ures in the existing structure of leaders.17 It is worth noticing, however, that couples also identify with couples. Th is was particularly the case in Hillsong, where team-ministry was a part of the church’s visional narrative. In the case of Brittany, it was couples who welcomed her and her husband to the church, and for this reason she also sees these couples as models to follow.

Attributed Leadership Qualities But what are the most important qualities of these role models and leaders? Th ere are of course some diff erences between the respondents’

17 Th is might explain why ‘direct leadership identifi cation’ with leaders and role models had a higher score among men in both churches in the semi-quantitative survey, see Chapter 7.9.10, Table 11. 198 chapter six perception of ‘face-to-face’ role models, and leaders in the organisational centre, as well as diff erences in emphasis between respondents, but I will suggest that identifi cation with role models and ‘direct’ leadership identifi cation may be summarised in the following fi ve important qualities. Firstly, good leaders and role models are perceived as visionary and passionate ‘idealists’. Th ey have a vision emerging from the biblical story and they are, to paraphrase Earnest, perceived as men and women of ‘biblical principles’. Hence, they exercise ‘ideal infl uence’ in terms of modelling certain ethical standards. However, it is worth noticing that the basis for commitment is not only stories of moral conduct, it also includes images of spirituality. Regine, Dustin, and Jonathan identify with their leaders, because they have ‘passion for God.’ Secondly, this passion leads to service, to the degree that Dustin and Jonathan view their leaders as men and women who have to die to themselves, and ‘live solely for God’. It follows that these images of servant leadership and servant followers entail not only an embodiment of the narrative vision; they also include a perception of a serving attitude that connects this role model relationally to God and the people served. Th irdly and fourthly, as we saw in Earnest’s story, they are perceived as both directive and empowering leaders, who lead from the front and show followers the way, in contrast to laissez-faire leaders. In short, they defi ne a path and they enable people to walk on it. Th at applies to practices of empowering leadership as described by Earnest, and that will be analysed in the next chapter. At this point it is suffi cient to point out that this kind of ‘hierarchical power’ may be experienced as ‘useful’ from a follower perspective. Th e four constructs that have been presented so far defi nitively transcend relational identifi cation as defi ned above, however, as we saw in the cases of Brittany (Hillsong) and Marcus (Pinsekirken), the relational dimension is a crucial aspect of these types of leadership because ideational commitment, narrative embodiment, and practice dynamic empowerment must not only be demonstrated in front of followers, it must be lived in relation to them. At this point, the importance of face- to-face role models can hardly be over-emphasised, because they also seem, indirectly, to provide trustworthiness to leaders in the centre. Fift hly, it is therefore vital that such role models are experienced as ‘connected caretakers’, as we saw in several stories above. Th is is particularly important for people like Ruth and Brittany, who prefer or seek to perform their inner conversation in a ‘relational or cooperative mode’. organisational foci – why do people identify? 199

However, to be ‘caring’ may also be attributed to leaders at the senior level. Gina admired two of the co-pastors in London for being about people, and for valuing people in terms of showing that ‘everybody’s got so much value’:

One thing that I completely love; to them everybody’s got so much value. Th ey’re so important, and they’ve got such an important part to play in building the house, building Hillsong. We’ve spoken to Brendan and Mark, and they’re just amazing. Th ey’re just all about people; they’re about getting people connected.

Transparency and Trustworthiness Finally, role model identifi cation also depends on an element I will call ‘attributed transparency’. Th is means that the leader is perceived as being open and honest about one’s weaknesses. Th is sort of vulnerability contributes somewhat paradoxically to the trustworthiness of the leader, in combination with the fi ve characteristics described above. In London, the Clarkes opened their home to their closest staff , and had served over 3000 meals in their home in the year prior to my fi eldwork. Brian and Bobbie Houston were also described by some staff respondents as role models, in terms of opening their home and sharing their ‘ups and downs’ with their closest co-workers. In Pinsekirken, John was positively surprised by Tangstad’s level of transparency:

His openness and his transparency in his life have made the most impact in this regard. His example, in that way, being the senior pastor and still being so transparent and open and honest, has been quite an experience. In the beginning, I thought more, ‘Well, Jarle, you should not tell about this! Th is is something you should keep private!’ But aft er having been here and getting to know him better, I really do appreciate that side of him. I want to learn from that myself… Th e transparency in my life is probably very important if I want to be a man that connects to other people outside the church. Transparency seems to be an operationalised value in both churches, even if it seems to be emphasised more in Pinsekirken. Transparency may be regarded as an aspect of leadership by example, but it also may involve issues of ‘likeness’ and ‘intimacy’. Regine describes one of the pastors as particularly important:

He was the priest in the Alpha course, and he talked so much about his own life. He’s a very giving person about his own experiences, and so on, and I have told him myself, it’s thanks to him that I am here in the church. Because he touched my heart, really. 200 chapter six

Th is sort of intimacy certainly fi ts in a commitment story that includes the theme of recovery.

Defi ning Relational Quality Identifi cation By relational qualities identifi cation, I mean that people identify with the church because of certain relationships, and with certain relational qualities or virtues that are perceived as an integral part of these relationships, associated with the church. By relationships in this context, I mean the relationships between people. Th ese relationships may be experienced in terms of a sense of togetherness. Individuals may also be evaluated in terms of how they relate to others and create forms of togetherness, by having, or being perceived to have, certain qualities or virtues, such as care for others.

Spirituality Th emes

Th eme 7: Experiencing God as Caring Father and Dynamic Presence Belonging to God – Th en to Th e Church In the survey many respondents simply presented God as one of their three reasons for identifying with the church. Peter gives a thicker description of this connection as he describes his commitment to the church: One hundred per cent, because it’s very easy to me. My basic life situation was that if I had not met Jesus, I would not have lived. I don’t owe myself one hundred per cent to the church, but to Jesus, which is important. But, of course, I’m extremely committed to this church, very much. Th is idea that one’s commitment to church is a secondary commitment that comes out of a committing relationship with God was a common notion among my respondents. Th us, hermeneutically it is possible to see this reason for commitment as a kind of fundamental commitment that shares its meaning with the other types of commitment. Th is applies in particular to ideational forms of identifi cation, but also to practice dynamics, and to some degree relationships. It also seems clear that belonging to a growing organisation, or experiencing warm relationships, are important reasons as well. Th e relationship with God should nevertheless be given considerable weight as we try to see identifi cation as a whole. Th e idea of encounters and more continual fellowship with God is a central aspect of many of the respondents’ stories. We saw that organisational foci – why do people identify? 201

Peter, Ruth and Brittany have had life-transforming encounters with what they perceive to be God or his Spirit. For Brittany and Peter this happened in the church services. In the analysis of the churches’ narratives we saw that worship was understood as ‘means of grace’, in the sense that it mediates God’s presence. It is not the only practice in the services in which one expects God to act. God’s saving actions are expected in response to prayer, through spiritual gift s such as prophetic utterances, through the teaching, and through baptism and the Lord’s Supper.

Rituals and Life Transforming Encounters In my material three of these practices show up as reasons for identifi cation. Prayer is presented as a reason for identifi cation in the Danish survey material, and prayer plays an important role in the story of Mahmoud. He came to Denmark as a political refugee, he was a Muslim, and world-class athlete. However, some months previous to his fi rst visit to Pinsekirken, he suff ered a severe back injury that disabled him from work, and he lost his job as a physiotherapist. What happened next turned his life story into a classical Pentecostal conversion narrative. He entered one of Pinsekirken’s healing campaigns, and was instantly and completely healed when one of the ushers prayed for him. He also got his job back, and aft er a while he was promoted to national coach in his sports discipline. Th is kind of healing story appeared mostly in Pinsekirken. I had also expected baptism to appear as an important theme in the commitment stories, since baptism has been understood as a rite of commitment in the Pentecostal tradition (see Macchia 2006, p. 250). However, in addition to Ruth’s somewhat creative use of baptism as a means for deliverance, it was only Debbie who remembered her baptism as a life-changing event:

When I was baptised, God just did something amazing in my heart. I’m not a particularly emotional, crying-type person. I’m just not wired that way, but since having kids I’m more that way. But I don’t cry at movies and all that kind of stuff . I got baptised, and as I came out of the water, I just felt like God just… I can’t even describe it. God just did something on the inside of me … I went home and cried for three hours. For most of the other respondents, baptism was not an important part of their self-presentation, or something they thought about regularly. On a weekly basis, worship played a far more important role in terms of 202 chapter six encountering God, and that applies also to Debbie. Worship is a part of her identity to the degree that she presents herself as a worshipper: I’m just probably not a crier, but I’m a worshipper. I do everything I can to make sure I actually get in for a whole service, because there’s nothing like standing in corporate worship and just lift ing your arms and praising God. You just get right in His face and it’s just amazing. It’s great. I’m totally a worshipper. In the narrative analysis of Hillsong, I suggested that worship is a key practice in the sense that it is thought of as a means of grace, in terms of facilitating God’s active and saving presence. We also saw that Pin- sekirken shared this notion. It is worth noticing that worship is a multi- dimensional practice that can be linked to other identifi cation themes as well. Firstly, worship is an embodied aesthetic experience. Th e sense of joyful feelings during worship that many of my respondents reported may obviously be references to a bodily-aesthetic experience of eupho- ria-inducing endorphins, as well as to experiences of the Spirit.18 Secondly, worship is a social practice. Ingrid describes her fi rst encounter with Hillsong in this way: But when I came to Hillsong, I just saw all these people praising God, and all the service was just about the celebration and having parties, and every person that I met was so connected to God. From the very fi rst moment, believe me, aft er fi ve minutes in that building that Sunday, it changed my life from being very, very down and far away from God to changing like this, because God was so there, and people were so connected. Th ere was worship, and there was a lot of people there… I like this, I love this, I want to be a part of this. Th is is described as an encounter with God, but also in terms of seeing people as connected to one another. From this it may follow that worship functions as an interaction ritual. According to Robert Bellah (2006c, p. 153), an interaction ritual takes place when:

1. A group of at least two people are physically assembled; 2. Th ey focus attention on the same object or action, and each becomes aware that 3. Th e other is maintaining this focus and shares a common mood or emotion

18 Margaret Poloma (2003, pp. 44–46) suggests, employing the work of Music Psychologist David Wulff , that forms of charismatic worship stimulate endorphins in the brain. Having participated, I believe that this is correct, even though I might add that older participants like myself may feel a sense of ‘post-worship fatigue’. organisational foci – why do people identify? 203

Ingrid goes on to say: If people don’t get connected, I think, it could be because of the church’s way of celebrating God, because it’s very charismatic and it’s very wild, kind of, because everybody’s jumping up and down and just having fun. So if that’s not your style, I don’t think that’s the church for you; if you’re a bit grown up and just prefer a bit calmer church. Th e description of this practice as ‘wild and playful’, in contrast to being ‘grown up’ and ‘calm’, seems to express a sense of freedom. Th us, even if worship is carefully facilitated by the worship leaders (making the ‘wild and playful’ normative), participants may still have a sense of freedom in relation to the norms of the ‘grown up’, associated with traditional congregations (like Ingrid’s previous church). Th e references to ‘every person’ and ‘everybody’ emphasise a feeling of spontaneous community, rather than a sense of being pressured into conformity. I will suggest that Ingrid’s description has affi nity with what Victor Turner calls ‘communitas’. He describes such experiences as ‘anti-structural’, meaning that they are ‘egalitarian’,19 direct, non-rational, essential I – You, ‘we relationships’.20 In both churches, people wrote or stated that they identifi ed with the church because of the ‘atmosphere’ or ‘the sense of common joy or passion’. Th is means that what Land would call collective aff ections, or what Durkheim called ‘collective eff ervescence’, is created within the borders of the ritual space, creating a fi eld of shared aff ections.21 As a powerful ‘interaction ritual’,22 worship is more than a reason for commitment; it is also a way in which people through shared experiences develop a shared identity. Th e sheer act of participating may therefore inspire commitment. Th is is a plausible interpretation of Ingrid’s experience. From a sociological perspective one might suggest that such mechanisms of solidarity are strongest for people who spend their days in the centre, yet as we have seen in the case of Peter, Gina and Susan,

19 It may be worth noticing that the senior pastors are normally absent from the scene during worship, standing on the fl oor with the people rather than in front of or above them, so there is no manifest affi rmation of the organisational hierarchy during the rite, worshipping God as an authority may have latent functions, though. 20 Here Turner refers to Martin Buber, see Turner 1974, p. 46–47. 21 It is worth noticing that ritual space may be relative to the number of participants who participate in the ritual. In Pinsekirken I observed that the twelve o’clock service, which has the same programme as the ten o’clock service but only half the number of participants, seemed to have less aff ective intensity than the earlier service, despite the fact that we sang the same songs. 22 Although my respondents may be reluctant or ambivalent to use ‘ritual’ as a theological term, see Macchia 2006, p. 247, and Albrecht 1999. 204 chapter six taking part in the practice of worship may transform lives even if one initially enters as an observer. Beyond this, rituals may also have several ‘latent’ social functions, in terms of creating solidarity and shared meaning, since it also is a form of collective story-telling (Bellah 2006c, p. 162). However, at this point one may ask if the stories of the worship songs actually represent a vision of the common good, beyond a relatively individualistic I–You relationship with God, since this intimate relationship is a recurring theme in the lyrics of both Pinsekirken and Hillsong. Here Hillsong may be the most interesting case, since it has also infl uenced worship in Pin- sekirken. It is worth noticing that the I–You relationship occasionally may be expanded to a we–You perspective, which includes God’s acts in history in a more cosmological perspective. More important for my purpose, is how humanity’s response to God’s salvation is described. Th e appropriate response to God, some of my respondents told me, is not to have God in your world, but to ‘make him your world’. Th e song ‘You are my world’ expresses this devotion in a radical way: ‘You are my world, You are my God, And I lay down my life for you’. Another song goes even further: One way, Jesus. You’re the only one that I could live for. Th is ‘I will live for you’ theme was present in 23 of 27 worship songs that roughly made up the repertoire of songs during my fi eldwork.23 I will suggest that this theme connects the ritual to the larger story of Hillsong, and inspires commitment to the cause of Christ and therefore also to ‘building the church’.

Worship Viewed as Transcendent Interaction – Being in the Presence of God Why does worship transform lives? If we should listen to these participants, we should return to the leitmotif of Ingrid’s story to fi nd the answer; worship is a practice in which God comes near. Susan and Gina say they identify with the church because they can sense the presence of God. Th ey became Christians aft er entering a Hillsong service by ‘acci- dent’, on a Saturday night they had planned to spend partying at Leicester Square. When I asked them to compare Hillsong’s worship with the kind

23 Th ese 27 songs can be found on two worship CDs that were sold in the foyer during the fi rst part of my fi eldwork; Shout God’s fame (Hillsong Music, release date: 6 June 2004), and For all you done (Hillsong Music, release date: 14 September 2004). organisational foci – why do people identify? 205 of music they otherwise would have listened to, they replied that the ‘energy’ in the room was diff erent from a Robbie Williams concert: Th ere was a diff erent energy coming from that platform, and it’s God’s energy. Th at’s something that you can’t buy for forty quid at a Robbie Williams concert… I just love it, because the presence of God just blows you away. If one should take these accounts to be valid testimonies concerning the content of their experience, it seems crucial to acknowledge that the ‘object’ of worship gives a particular shape to the experience. Gina continues: Praise and worship is amazing. You’re just overwhelmed… I just cried; that was all I could do. I was just like, ‘Where have I been?’ It was just, you felt in your heart, and I was like, ‘If I had the choice right now to go out and do Leicester Square, I’d rather be standing right here every single Saturday than anywhere else’. Th at feeling you got was peace, through and through. If one sees a Robbie Williams concert as a kind of ritual celebration of certain values embedded in Western ‘youth culture’, it may follow that there may be an almost universal emotional eff ect of such collective rituals, yet it seems equally important to maintain that the ‘the other’ or the ‘symbolic other’ ’ that functions as the object of worship, gives a particular aff ective –normative shape to the fi eld of shared experience. Th us, comparison between worship in Hillsong and a rock concert, should not be pushed to far. I will suggest that this kind of worship, at least from an emic point of view, can be regarded as a kind of theological ‘aff ect attunement’. We have seen that the worship songs in both churches draw narrative visionary images of direct and intimate ‘I–You’ encounters with God as father and friend. As Alfred Schutz (1964, p. 208) suggested, in his discussion of ‘Making Music Together’, the participants in musical interaction rituals are tuned in to one another, sharing ‘inner time’ in a way that means they are ‘growing older together while the music process lasts’. Th e sociologist and social psychologist Stein Bråten has suggested that aff ect attunement in the mother-child relationship is grounded in what he calls ‘the virtual other’ in the human mind (Bråten 1993). Th is ‘participative room’ enables the practices of ‘inner dialogue’,24 but it may

24 It may be added that this theory of a virtual participant room also opens up for imagining forms of the inner dialogue as internal interaction rituals, a scenario that may 206 chapter six also be fi lled by ‘an actual other’ in interpersonal dialogue. It means that social sciences might perceive the experience of the Holy Spirit in Gina, Susan and Peter’s narratives as an experience of a virtual other, confi gured in the act of worship. Th e respondents will, however, suggest that this virtual other might be a ‘real’ other who fi lls their participative rooms with himself and his aff ections.25 What is this God, whom people encounter in worship and preaching, like? What do people experience as they meet the sacred? Th ere is no record in my material of fear and trembling that, for instance, might be associated with a sinner in the hand of an angry God. Nina is a possible exception. She sought the church because she feared that the end of the world was near, in the days aft er 9/11, 2001. Other respondents, like Brittany and Gina, felt a need for forgiveness; whereas others, such as Peter, felt only a presence of happiness and joy in his conversion story. Gina’s story is possibly the most interesting, since she has a secular background. Susan and Gina refer to a sense of being ‘overwhelmed’ in their encounter with God. Gina said: ‘and I was like, I just cried. I said, “God, I’m so sorry.” ’ Nevertheless, all of my respondents seem to understand salvation in terms of a right relationship with God, who primarily is seen as a loving father. Th e evangelical Pentecostal distinction between being motivated by guilt in relation to God’s law on one side, and living out of love, motivated by God’s grace on the other, was also present in the material. Debbie, who actually comes from another Pentecostal church, experienced her encounter with Hillsong as a transformation from a connection based on works to a faith-based relationship. I certainly felt very much in the fi rst year like I had grown more than I had in the last ten years, defi nitely. Just my understanding of who God is, and just the way He wants to have a relationship with us, and that it’s not all works-based. Overall, I will suggest that Nina’s ‘new’ post-conversion perception of God sums up my respondents’ experiences of God as loving father: He is supportive and he is a loving God - he has a lot of love for me as a person and he wants me to succeed in life. contribute to why ‘imagoes’ have such an aff ective power (the internal ‘dialogue’ can on occasions turn into an ‘opera’). 25 Th is is my position; I believe that Bråten ’s research-based theory may be a starting point for further dialogue, and I will return to this theory as I analyse what I have called the ‘Spirituality mode of agency’ in the next chapter. organisational foci – why do people identify? 207

However, God is also seen as the all-powerful Lord, who acts dynamically through his people. It is essential to notice that when people like Ingrid and Earnest search for such practice dynamics, they do not only, or perhaps not primarily, seek a dynamic organisation; they want to be in a place where God acts. Th is means that testimonies of healing and salvation (like the stories of Gina, Susan, Mahmoud, and Peter), as well as reports on social work that ‘transforms people’s lives’ are crucial. And when this happens, people see it as a testimony of the God who is wor- shipped as the almighty. We have already seen that when it does not happen, people see this as a practical rather than an intellectual struggle.

Spirituality, Images of God, and the Socio-Cultural Context Th e images of God experienced in the two churches are very similar. Debbie’s story of moving from a focus on works to relationships shows that one can fi nd one of Pinsekirken’s key stories among Hillsong participants. Nina’s story shows that one can fi nd Hillsong’s story of ‘successful living’ in Pinsekirken, as well. I will suggest that this kind of spirituality both affi rms and challenges its cultural context. In terms of form, I will suggest that the expressive ‘concert mode’ of worship found in Hillsong represents a ‘point of contact’ between the expressivity of Western ‘youth culture’ and traditional ‘charismatic spirituality’. Both ‘traditions’ encourage ‘expressivity’ in the sense that they encourage common acclamation and corporate forms of shouting, dancing, and jumping that lead people into a mild ‘ex-stasis’ in the sense of standing ‘outside’ everyday routines and structures (anti- structural experiences, not hysteria).26 Th us, this form of worship may enable the church to ‘contextualise Pentecostal charismatic aff ections’ through contemporary aesthetical modes. In terms of narrative, God is seen as the perfect and loving parent that might be compatible to diff erent forms of individualism, even though the text also may transcend individualism, in terms of nurturing more collective identities. In the teaching, as well as in the ritual, He is the ultimate source of unconditional love, and in this sense an ultimate therapist for the expressive individualist who seeks unconditional regard and affi rmation of the self. From a more utilitarian perspective, it might be attractive that God wants me to ‘succeed in all areas of life’, and that the Lord can make ‘anything happen’.

26 Early Pentecostal worship was characterised by ‘joy typically expressed in enthusiastic, fast-paced, infectious singing’ (Poloma 2003, p. 39). 208 chapter six

However, this spirituality also represents a moderate form of counter- culture. Th e focus on grace versus works and performance challenges the ‘self made or self help man’ of individualism. As such, this kind of spirituality might represent a ‘lounge’ or ‘safe haven’ in the world of market capitalism, where most people are located whether their thinking is dominated by utilitarianism or not. For businessmen like Tony, it is important that he can invest what he earned in the market place in something that is more meaningful to him. Th us, as a place to fi nd rest and inspiration, spirituality can be combined with a life in the market place, but one should not overlook that Tony has new ethical concerns; for instance with regard to how sexuality is used in the marketing business. Th e concept of God as the centre of the universe and Lord of challenges, and from Hillsong one might add the concept of ‘dying to self’, challenges both utilitarian and expressive individualism, in particular the latter. God is not only a caring parent; he is also the ultimate horizon and authority. Jesus is not only one life-style guru among many; he is the one and only.

Worship as Interplay between Several Identifi cation Modes It might be worth noticing that the element of ‘theological aff ect attunement’ continues to play an important role during preaching, since we have seen that the ecclesial stories carry a certain narrative tone of heroic conviction and devotion. Th ere is obviously an important interplay between the teaching and the collective forms of worship that takes place in both churches. Th e teaching sketches a propitious theological life- horizon that people can ‘tap into’ as they come to worship. In turn, the experience of connectedness’ that Ingrid presents, including the powerful sense of togetherness with the transcendent, that Gina and Susan describe, give credibility back to the teaching. Th is also applies to the bodily-aesthetic qualities of the worship experience. Th ese add a sense of bodily congruence between the the individual, the fellowship, and the object of worship. In sum then, the spirituality of collective worship seems to evoke and merge with all the forms of identifi cation that have been described this far, but the key dimension in this practice is the relationship to the sacred, or what Miller and Yamamori (2007, pp. 219– 221) call the S-factor.27 Th e story of Peter demonstrates how this S-factor

27 See the discussion of the relationship between theology and sociology in appendix A below. organisational foci – why do people identify? 209 may be a powerful life-transforming variable beyond the experience of ‘collective eff ervescence’.

Power Encounters with Alternative Spiritualities At this point it may be fruitful to take a closer look at those who, in Heelas and Woodhead’s perspective, may be considered ‘counter-revolutionary converts’. Interestingly, there seem to be striking diff erences between the two respondents who had been most heavily involved in alternative religious practices, Ruth and Mia. Mia’s case may fi t Heelas and Woodhead’s scheme, since she turned to Christianity because she missed an overall meaning frame that gave her a sense of meaning and identity. Th us, in her case she wanted more strict meaning frames than her previous beliefs could off er. In Ruth’s case, however, we face an authoritative and very strict alternative religious script, at least at the time when one of her spiritual mentors advised her to change her name. Th is advice had, in Propora’s terms, ‘a cosmogonic origin’ in the sense that it was grounded in a perception of ‘how the world is constituted’ (see Propora 2003, p. 73). In such a ‘cosmogonic’ life plot, the human agent must act in ways that correspond to the structure of the world; otherwise she will face devastating consequences. We saw that Ruth over time experienced this belief and its corresponding practice as a ‘demonic claw’, and subsequently sought Christianity for deliverance. Her ‘use’ of baptism as a means of emancipation nonetheless represents a very creative and somewhat individualistic approach to Christian practices. Her narrative seems to demonstrate that some alternative practices can be far from free from power and authority. In her case one may speak of a spiritual confl ict, or what Charles Kraft calls ‘power encounter’ (Kraft 1989, p. 200). Her deliverance from the ‘demonic claw’ is an important reason for committing to the stronger and delivering God.

Spirituality Identifi cation Defi ned I will suggest that this theme belongs to the category that I will call ‘spirituality identifi cation’. On a more general level, I will defi ne spirituality as ‘ways of relating to the sacred’.28 Th is is roughly also how the more

28 Shults and Sandage 2006, pp. 25 and 161. Th eir defi nition is very broad, because they include being passive and even hostile in ways of relating to the sacred. For my purpose it is also useful to accept Douglas Propora’s distinction between ‘Eastern and Western forms of religious experiences’. Propora suggests that there is no distinction 210 chapter six slippery term ‘spiritual’ will be used in this study. By ‘spirituality identifi cation’ I mean that people identify with the church because of shared or individually derived ways of encountering and relating to the sacred. For my respondents, the sacred is understood as the Christian God. People may also identify with a sense of God’s presence, or the spiritual dynamic that is associated with this presence. Th is means that spirituality identifi cation also includes perceived experiences of God.

Summary

Overall, in this chapter I have presented seven identifi cation themes that describe organisational foci, and these may be classifi ed into four types of identifi cation. Th e dynamic professionalism and aesthetics of these organisations, as well as experiences of growth and dynamic practice, inspire what I have called dynamic performance identifi cation. Th e family-like qualities of these organisations, as well as the trustworthiness of the leaders, inspire what I have called relational quality identifi cation. Th e visionary narratives of these organisations, as well as their Bible- teaching, inspire existential-ideational identifi cation and fi nally, people identify with the churches because they have a sense of God’s presence in the services. Th ese identifi cation themes are seen as analytically distinct, but the interplay between them creates ‘a landscape for the soul’ that the person actively wants to belong to. Th e churches also appear as relevant in relation to the participant’s life in the late modern context. Th e participants embrace a Bible-based teaching that also approaches themes common in late modern interpretative repertoires, such as successful living, which is highlighted by utilitarian individualism, and self-acceptance, which is promoted by expres sive individualism. Hillsong’s worship rituals seem to contextualise Pentecostal spirituality within the more festive aspects of Western youth culture. Pinsekirken’s spirituality seems, at least to some degree, to be attractive to ‘alternative spiritual seekers’ who seek a combination of spiritual experiences and an overarching life-plot. Th e small groups, and

between the self and ultimate other in the ideal typical Eastern type of experience, in the sense that one becomes one with the universal consciousness. In the Western type of spirituality, ultimate reality is not so much experienced as a whole that inextricably includes us, but as a Th ou as to whom we can relate personally (Propora 2003, pp. 253– 254). It is this theistic (rather than monistic) type, which I fi nd in my empirical material. organisational foci – why do people identify? 211 the churches’ teaching on God as a caring father, provide a sense of home in the world that Bauman calls liquid modernity. Th is interplay may be summed up in the model below:

Late modern context: Socio- cultural variables including U- and E- individualism

(1) Theo- dramatic (3) vision with clear Professionalism and missions and inspiring contemporary imagoes aesthetics (2) Existential & (4) Dynamic action practical Bible teaching and growth

dramatic,Theo- Practice idenitficationexistential performance identification

Rela qualittio identificationnal y

ification Spirituality (5) Community and (7) Experiencing God ident friendships with family as dynamic presence qualitie and caring Father and (6) Caring growth Lord models and trustworthy pathfinders

Figure 3. Organisational identifi cation foci chapter seven

ORGANISATIONAL FOCI AND INDIVIDUAL INTEGRATION

Th e Purpose of this Chapter

In the last chapter I made a distinction between (1) identifi cation themes referring to organisational foci or qualities, and (2) themes referring to how these qualities are relevant to the individual’s construction of his or her identity in terms of self-narrative and life strategies. Th is chapter will begin with an analysis of the latter. ‘Relevance’ was a theme that appeared in several commitment stories, as well as among the survey respondents. What does relevance or relevant mean, in this context? Firstly, in a narrow sense, ‘relevance’ was used about the church’s aesthetic forms, as we saw above. However, in a more broad sense, I found that the church’s teaching and practices seemed relevant to most aspects of peoples’ lives, in the sense that they provided resources for living. Th e Oxford Concise English Dictionary (Pearsall, ed. 2001, p. 1209) explains the term ‘relevance’ as ‘connected to or appropriate to the matter at hand’, and I will suggest that the matter at hand in my material are many aspects of a given person’s life. Th us, I see relevance as a multi-dimensional and relational term that connects organisational foci and the individual application of these foci. Furthermore, in this chapter I will suggest that the relevant ‘matter at hand’ is not only diff erent aspects of my respondents’ lives, but the way they integrate these aspects into one story, with means provided by the churches. Note that this chapter will not off er a fi nal conclusion about to which degree organisational resources actually integrate peoples’ life stories. Th at theme will be revisited in chapter nine. In this chapter I will focus on identifying such integrating resources. Finally, I will also develop the model presented in the chapter six, by integrating the fi ndings of this chapter into a model of personal and organisational identifi - cation. Th is model will also be analysed using a few fi ndings from the semi- quantitative data. 214 chapter seven

Th eme 8: Personal Integration – Finding a ‘Home’ to Centre Oneself

A Sense of Home Revisited – Deliberative Centring First, it might be useful to defi ne what I mean by personal integration. One way that personal integration takes place among my respondents is the process of centring. Linda says: But fi rst of all, commitment is not about what you do, but about the heart and the attitude you have to church. It’s about seeing church as your home, your base, and your foundation for life. Church is such a big part of life. It’s not just work and free time, but it’s life. And that’s very important, that’s where commitment comes from. It’s a vision, it’s outreach to the community, it’s about the Kingdom of God… Th at has to do with some of the teaching from Hillsong, as well. Th ey’re very strong in the, ‘Stay where you are, church is important, church is your home’. I see myself growing a worship ministry that is going to be bigger than just this church. It’s going to reach the city, the nation, maybe the continent. Th at’s what my dream is. I’m not afraid of having big dreams. I will suggest that Linda in this passage conceptualises the church as a focal point around which she centres her life. By centring I mean the integrative process of organising and interpreting one’s life around, and in light of an important personal concern. Th is may be the case when Jonathan states: ‘Church has become important to me, because it is my home’. Th e fi rst and perhaps most basic form of ‘a personal integrating centre’, or what Linda calls the ‘foundation’ of her life, is the concept of a home. I view ‘home’ as more than an inter-personal relation, it is also on an intra-personal level; the ‘locus where the self positions itself’.

Narrative Resources: Images and ‘Imagoes’ for Personal ‘Emplotment’ Th e churches also seem to provide several resources for diff erent modes of personal integration. Firstly, in Linda’s statement above, I would suggest that ‘seeing the church as…’ refl ects an interpretative aspect of centring. Ideational images of the church and the larger Kingdom of God help her to fi nd a meaningful plot, in which she can be a ‘contributor’ to God’s drama in the world. As we saw in the last chapter, the imagoe of ‘being a church builder’ gave signifi cantly shape to the life- stories of Brittany and Earnest, and in particular to Dustin’s narrative, whose biography possibly may be summed up as stories of being a church builder. organisational foci and individual integration 215

Th us, these plots provide a form of coherence to a person’s biography that simultaneously is congruent with their ultimate concerns, or at least what they believe should be their ultimate values, such as their commitment to God and their close ones.1 In the following I will present how the ecclesial meso-stories inspire diff erent stories about the self. However, fi rst it might be useful to acknowledge that centring also may have practical and ritual dimensions.

Life -Strategic Resources: Models for Personal Organisation As Linda suggests, Hillsong also seems to provide relevant models for how one organises one’s life. In the church’s teaching, people are advised not to compartmentalise their life into diff erent departments, but see their friendship and family life as a part of one Kingdom life. Th us, this is a model for seeing all aspects of one’s life, including work and family, in relation to the church as an integrating centre. As such, this model is more integrative than hierarchical, but the metaphor of ‘dying to self’, which appears in both Dustin’s and Brittany’s stories, seems to introduce a goal hierarchy, capable of solving confl icts between diff erent concerns and commitments. I will suggest that this model does not cut away individuality, but it subordinates one’s concerns to God’s kingdom, clearly defi ning certain concerns as ultimate and others as subordinate. It is worth noticing that in this paradigm God is not integrated into an individualistic process of constructing a self, it is rather the other way around. Although there is space for individuality and ‘personal success’, within this larger frame one loses one’s life as a centre – to a life with God as the centre. As we saw in Brittany and Earnest’s life-stories, at least on a narrative level, building the church seems more important than personal career. In this sense it seems that the ‘dying to self’ model represents a calling to a communitarian conversion. In Pinsekirken a quite similar model is presented, even though the concept of ‘living for something larger than themselves’ (see chapter three) may lack some of the conceptual clarity of the Hillsong model. Even if this ecclesiological model of the church is less developed and explicit, in terms of imagoes and concrete models or maps for organising one’s life, it is not radically diff erent in its application, as demonstrated in stories from the staff in Pinsekirken (most notably

1 In psychological theory, coherence and congruence may be seen as two modes of integration, see Sheldon and Kasser 1995 and Emmons 1999. 216 chapter seven

Marcus). Th e call to serve God has signifi cant impact on how one uses one’s time and energy. Th us, in terms of practical consequences, this kind of theology seems to have practical affi nity with a key aspect of Paul Tillich’s theology. For Tillich, faith is an act of ‘centring’ towards ultimate concerns that ‘give depth, direction and unity to all other concerns’, and with them to the whole personality (Tillich 1957, p. 105). From a theological perspective this may be better understood as an act of love, or as faith manifested in love, rather than just faith since, as Emmons (1999, p.120) suggests, Tillich’s conception of ultimate concern seems to be an abstract transla- tion of Jesus’ great commandment about loving God with all of one’s heart, mind and soul (Matt. 22:37).

Ritual Resources: Integration Rituals Th is suggestion raises questions about the aff ective component of centring. In this perspective it is interesting that not only cognitive maps, but also ‘rites in the Spirit’ (see Albrecht 1999), may function as resources for personal centring. Th e churches provide and teach several rituals that may help individuals to centre their life on God. Th ese rituals include ‘private time’ with God, prayer and Bible study, and conversations in the life group, but as we saw in the last chapter, worship is a particularly important ‘ritual of centring’. When people every Sunday lift their hands and sing, ‘You’re the only that I will live for’, in a context of collective and bodily expressed passion, this may obviously function as a way of centring oneself, on God and on his Kingdom. At this point it is also relevant that contemporary worship music can be carried everywhere, through modern MP3 technology. Worship music, including the sound of collective celebration, may therefore be re-engaged, almost everywhere, at any time. From auto-ethnographic experience I will suggest that this may create a form of pseudo-social experience, although the sense of inter-personal connectedness is signifi cantly weaker when it is used this way. Anyhow, listening to worship music on one’s iPod might function as a personal ritual of centring, and can be combined with an older ‘portable technology’; the book of the Bible. As we saw in the case of Earnest, this kind of personal spirituality can also be combined with a personal refl exivity. Th is kind of refl ection, on one’s concerns and their relative importance, seems to be a necessary component of centring, as suggested by Archer (2003). organisational foci and individual integration 217

Stories of Homecoming – Home as a Metaphor of Centring However, I will suggest that such personal refl ections take place within the horizon of personal stories. Th e churches’ meso-stories provide resources for diff erent types of such stories. In chapters four and fi ve I have suggested that both Brittany’s and Ruth’s narratives seem to have affi nity with archetypical stories of homecoming, although Ruth’s journey seems to be somewhat incomplete. Both stories have a ‘comic’ U-shape, although this is most obvious in Brittany’s story. She was in a state of harmony with home, family, and God, then she left the church and distanced herself from God, reaching a bottom point characterised by despair, before she converted and travelled home, and re-entered a state of grace and harmony. Th is U-shape is not as obvious in the stories of Peter and Marcus, but the leitmotif of coming home is present, though it is presented more indirectly, through the presentation of images of spiritual parents. I will suggest that these stories, as well as Gina and Susan’s experience of ‘not getting the welcome home out of their head’, imply that ‘home’ is a very fundamental and emotionally powerful term, with respect to identifying one’s sense of self. ‘Home’ is, as object-relations psychologist D. H. Winnicott (1986) suggests, ‘where we begin from’; it is at the root of our own biographical identity. ‘Home’ seems to be associated with ‘primary socialisation’. Th eologically, one might add that the Bible also uses home as a metaphor that expresses a fundamental belonging to God (Luke 15:14 ff ), within the horizon of the more common reference to God as the ultimate parent (John 1:12; Rom 8: 11–14). For this reason, one might suggest that these stories of coming home may be read as processes of centring the self towards an ultimate or fundamental centre, or to paraphrase Linda, ‘the foundation’ of the self.

Centring and the Duality of Belonging and Freedom It is worth noticing, however, that the relationship between the new converts and their new church, in my material, is far from being merely harmonious. Th ere are also tensions in the process. Th e stories of Peter, Regine and Ruth also show that people may need a sense of distance with regard to their spiritual mentors and parents in stages of their ‘journey’. In other words, centring presupposes both belonging and freedom. Even in Jonathan’s account of Hillsong as a home, belonging is also linked to freedom, in this case to a form of expressive freedom: 218 chapter seven

For me, I feel it’s a church where I can just go and just be totally who I am before God, and just express myself before God without worrying, without feeling that other congregational members will maybe be upset by it, or that sort of thing. It’s very homey to me, because obviously I’ve been here a while… But I just fi nd, you know, like at my previous church, even though I grew up in it, I never felt like it was a place where I could go and be totally free before God, and be totally free in my worship. Here, he implicitly defi nes freedom both positively and negatively. It is ‘negative’ freedom from being judged by other congregational members, and at the same time ‘positive’ freedom to express himself in the way he wants to, empowered by the collective practice of worship. It follows that certain others are enabling for Jonathan’s freedom, whereas others are potentially constraining. Th us, a ‘good sense of home’ and nurturing centring is, at least in some cases, not only a matter of a ‘sense of belongingness’. I will suggest that there are at least two kinds of freedom involved in this process. Th e fi rst is a positive or ‘enabling’ freedom. Jonathan feels at home because he is free to express himself, Dustin and Earnest feel free to ‘live their dream’. Th e second type is ‘negative freedom’, most importantly personal refl ective space in relation to others, as demonstrated in Peter’s story. At this point D. H. Winnicott’s (1986) theory of primary socialisation might have heuristic value. He suggests that our primary socialisation has a double structure. It includes aff ective identifi cation that provides a psychological base for what Giddens calls ‘ontological security’, yet it also includes a search for independence.2 Th is might explain how close relationships like those described above are presented, in terms of a search for both belonging and freedom.

Inner Freedom as a Personal Capability and Relational Quality It also might imply that we have to include a form of refl exive space if we are to understand the process of centring and the process of making authentic transformational commitments. In both churches people claimed that the congregation was an arena where they were allowed ‘to

2 See Winnicott 1986, pp. 128–141. Giddens is using insights from Winnicott and E. H. Erickson (1965) in his theory of the anatomy of the self. He suggests that the decisive element of the mother-child relationship is ‘basic trust’. Giddens proposes that cognitive frames of meaning would not generate faith without a corresponding level of underlying ‘semi-conscious’ emotional commitment, grounded in hope, courage, and trust (see Giddens 1991, pp. 38–42). organisational foci and individual integration 219 think for themselves’. ‘Th inking for oneself’ of course is subject to varying defi nitions or degrees, since the ‘cultural material’ of thinking is socially mediated. Earnest is free to pursue his dream, but he is nonetheless subject to the model power of the biblical dream, which to some degree makes him want what he wants. Yet this does not mean that there is no form of personal space where he can refl ect and choose for himself, and possibly also consider diff erent alternatives. Respect for one’s own intellectual integrity was particularly important for seekers like Peter, who had started from an ‘outsider’ position. All of these participants emphasised that it was important for them to ‘not feel pressured’, to approach the churches on their own initiative, to refl ect for themselves as well as with others, and still have the opportunity to respectfully disagree. Th is is obviously not only a matter of organisational qualities. Th is kind of personal freedom is also dependent on personal skills. Peter created this kind of personal space by refl ecting on the organisation and by manoeuvring in relation to his mentors. Th is kind of freedom does not remove the church’s model power but, as in the cases of Mia and Regine, it may create space for personal interpretations of the Bible that might challenge the church’s tradition. Still, it seems evident that Pinsekirken allowed this kind of refl ection. To Peter it was contrary to his expectation to fi nd this kind of personal space in a Pentecostal church: It also meant a lot that he sort of kept a distance and allowed me to narrow the distance as I wanted, and that is the feeling that I have in church… that they, contrary to my belief, they didn’t try to fool me, they didn’t try to drag me into something, but they were there. It was a very positive experience. Th is was particularly important during their processes of conversion, but it also applied to later refl ections on ethical and theological questions. One might suggest that Marcus, through his meta-refl ections, may exercise a higher level of freedom since it enables him not only to refl ect on the church’s story; he also ponders on how his thinking is infl uenced by this story. Yet, as Marcus acknowledges, challenging one model may lead to the domination of another model, so freedom is not absence of external structures or commitment; it is at best the ability to approach these structures and commitments in refl ective ways. People’s sense of personal space may obviously depend on how they handle the social expectations that come from the shared commitments of the organisation. Since integration is built around shared commitments, and relationships are intertwined with power structures, 220 chapter seven deviances may lead to confl ict. I will therefore return to the question of structure and refl ective space in chapter eleven, aft er I have analysed the possible structural transformation from ‘bounded’ to becoming more ‘centred’ sets, in both churches.

Spirituality and a Sense of Inner Freedom and Well Being Above we saw that Debbie sensed she also gained a new relational freedom relating to God, which has also changed her motivation for committing to and serving in the church, including giving money: And also, I think when Gary is getting up and saying, ‘We don’t want your money’, in one of these tithing messages, that’s when you start thinking… a totally new experience. I remember he talked specifi cally about tithing, and he went on to explain that somebody had said to him, ‘I’ve got all this money to give, and I want to give it to some sort of project. What do you think we should do? How would you use this money?’ And he said, ‘Well, I don’t want your money. You can do whatever you like with it. You can give it to charity; you can do whatever you like. It doesn’t matter.’ And I just thought, ‘Wow’. Have you ever heard a preacher say that? We had given a lot in our old church. We very much saw ourselves as being involved fi nancially, and giving in, ridiculously giving to the point that it actually hurt us, and it wasn’t smart, but we became very legalistic in our own thinking about giving. Yeah, and there was nothing that actually discouraged that. I guess, for me, it was that I walked in and just started getting my religious bones shaken. In other words, there is logical coherence and congruence between a theology of grace and an organisational philosophy that encourages people to devote themselves freely, without being psychologically ‘pushed’ to commitment by guilt. Th is combination seems to have motivated Debbie to serve in a new and passionate way. Th is might be an important aspect of people’s sense of ‘freedom to think for themselves’, because God’s will is the important norm in the inner conversation. God might obviously serve as a source of guilt and ‘obligation commitment’, but narrative images of God’s love may also bring freedom, and nurture voluntary aff ective identifi cation. In some cases this teaching may also nurture new forms of inner conversation that deal with problems caused by a given person’s primary socialisation. One of the respondents reported a new sense of self- acceptance aft er struggling with an uneasy feeling of being ‘controlled by one of her biological parents’ throughout her childhood and adulthood. As she learned to ‘accept herself in God’s love’, she also felt a new sense organisational foci and individual integration 221 of inner freedom and a new capability to express love to this parent, with whom she previously had a more ambivalent relationship. Th is combination of relational warmth and personal integrity space may overall create a sense of wellbeing; what Hillsong respondents call ‘enjoying life’, or what respondents from Pinsekirken call ‘trivsel’. As we saw in the case of Ruth, this may also be expressed in terms of a sense of inner peace of ‘calmness’. A few survey respondents in Copenhagen also make explicit references to a sense of security, but ontological security is probably ‘an underlying construct’ that is presupposed in cases where people speak about joy, peace and enjoying life. Th ese aff ections also seems to presuppose belonging and freedom, to the degree that one has a sense of knowing with oneself (syneidic) that one is at peace with both oneself and God. Both Brittany’s and Earnest’s stories demonstrate that lack of inner coherence produces forms of guilt and frustra- tion. It follows that this experience of inner peace requires a minimum of refl ective space, which allows the inner conversation to establish internal congruence and coherence between several possible stories of the self.

Th eme 9: Redemption as Personal Growth

Another theme that showed up in the survey material as a reason for identifying, and as an overarching leitmotif in the commitment stories, is personal growth. From the longer interviews one may suggest that the growth theme may relate to all the organisational foci that were presented in the last chapter, including performance dynamics3, relational virtues4 and biblical understanding and spiritual formation.5 However from the in-depth interviews it is also possible to identify several redemptive stories, that possibly may be seen as subplots within a larger story of personal and spiritual growth.

3 Earnest and Linda sensed that they had grown in terms of developing personal skills relating to aesthetic practice dynamics (music and photography), whereas Dustin and Marcus had developed managerial skills. 4 Several respondents report that they have developed new relational virtues, including Ruth (in relation to men), Brittany (initiative and care), and Yanker (kindness, agape). 5 Peter, Mia and Tony had grown spiritually, in terms of gaining understanding of the Bible and learning how to ‘live in the Spirit’. In the case of Mia and Tony this also meant new relational virtues, and a restoration of their marriage. 222 chapter seven

Redemptive Subplots: Deliverance, Healing and Spiritual Empowerment I will suggest that it is possible to identify at least three such ‘redemptive subplots’ in my analysis above, and in particular in the Danish material, which entailed several conversion stories. Th e fi rst type is stories of deliverance. I suggested that the most dominant motifs in the stories of Ruth and Peter were deliverance, though within a larger plot of (yet, incomplete) spiritual empowerment; Peter was delivered from alcoholism and death, Ruth from death and evil forces. Secondly, Peter’s story can be interpreted as a narrative of miraculous and divine intervention, in the form being empowered by the Spirit to live a new life. Th is is not unexpected in a Pentecostal context. Ruth’s narrative is quite similar but, as I demonstrated in chapter four, her narrative is far more atypical in relation to the interpretative repertoires of the Free Church tradition. Finally, are also stories of healings and restoration in the Danish material. Mahmoud’s is a story of physical healing, but since this healing also brought him a new job, his story is also a narrative of a more holistic restoration.

Journeys of Discovery, and Personal and Spiritual Empowerment Th e same applies to Peter – in his case, the deliverance from alcoholism seems to be a part of longer quest, or journey of discovery. Th is also applies to Brittany and Ruth, who also seem to have experienced an existential crisis prior to their conversions. Th ey struggled to fi nd their place in a world that has lost its meaning, to the degree that Ruth, like Peter, had thoughts about committing suicide. Finding meaning and purpose in life is, as we have seen, an important theme in Mia and Tony’s story of conversion. Th is theme is also present in Gina and Susan’s conversion story. Gina says: Well, I’m living for God now, whereas before I wasn’t. We’re living by God’s principles and we’ve got a purpose. We’ve got a cause. Th us, the image of ‘the cause’ of the church seems to provide a telos their biography, as well. Overall, I will suggest that several stories, perhaps most of the stories in my material, may be read as stories of existential empowerment, in the sense of being enabled to life a meaningful life. Th ese stories may nevertheless be emplotted somewhat diff erently. Peter’s journey has some affi nity with a classic romantic plot in the sense that he embarks on a journey where he moves from discovery to organisational foci and individual integration 223 discovery. Yet, as I suggested in chapter four, his story also transcends the classic romantic plot, since it is God who appears the most important hero. Th is also true of Earnest, Dustin and Brittany’s stories, though these narratives are indeed more collectively orientated towards the ecclesial dream of an Acts 2 church.

God’s Love and Self-Identity – a New Sense of Self-Acceptance Not all stories of growth depart from a collective horizon. Regine is a woman in her late thirties who attends Pinsekirken. She described her upbringing as ‘quite normal’, though she added that she sometimes had suff ered from ‘a feeling of loneliness and emptiness’. When she entered into her twenties, she became a spiritual seeker. She was seeking God, but her quest was also linked to a search for self-acceptance: Th ere was a very wise woman, who said to me if I want to have more self- worth, I should believe in God. And I was thinking a lot about that. For this reason she found Jarle Tangstad’s sermons on self-respect par- ticularity relevant. When I asked her about what kind of changes had taken place in her life, she answered: I think life got a bigger dimension. When I do something, it’s not for myself, but for God… I have some battles, but I think I have got a more positive picture of myself… Yes, because I know God is my Father. When I was told who God was, it gave me a positive picture of myself. First God, and then me. I think that… I got more peace inside. I can lean back. I fi nd two key elements in this answer. First, her new relationship to God has given her a new sense of self-acceptance, as the ‘wise woman’ proposed. Interestingly, the main issue here is not grace understood as being given favour or pardon in the eyes of God. Her initial concern was rather ‘self grace’, understood as the ability to accept herself, despite her weaknesses, through God’s love. At this point there is a clear similarity with the focus on loving oneself that one can fi nd in expressive individualism. In her following account on ethics, she also followed the logic of this self-mode when she said that she found it easier to accept others aft er she had accepted herself. However, secondly, the phrases ‘Life has got a bigger dimension’ and ‘First God, then me’ might imply that God later on has become her ultimate concern, and that her somewhat anthropocentric thinking was shift ing towards a new theological centre. 224 chapter seven

Growth Stories: Incorporating and Overcoming Tensions A growth plot may also be used to deal with tension, problems and shortcomings. Ruth identifi es her relationship with men as an area of life in which she is in danger of fragmentation. Incoherence between ideals and practice challenges the overall coherence of her story; yet by attempting to grow in this area, some form of coherence is restored. She may fail, but with the help of her family and friends, she is in the process of overcoming. Th e same applies to Gina and Susan, in their ‘theodicy’, their lack of prosperity is re-interpreted as a resource for personal growth. Th us, problems are incorporated into a ‘growth plot’. Overall then, I will suggest that personal growth also functions as an integrating theme, which tells my respondents who they are and where they are going.

Performance Enablement and Psychological Flow Th is ‘growth plot’, or the sense of ‘moving forward’, may be quite essential to a certain type of respondents. Personal growth in this sense seems to be particularly important for people like Earnest, who identify based on performance dynamics, and who ‘loves’ to encounter new challenges where he can develop new skills. So I think another thing I love about Hillsong is that it’s challenging. We need challenging, we need to be pushed, otherwise, how are you ever going to grow, how are you going to change? How are you going to become the person you need to be? I strive to be knocked out of my comfort zone. However painful that is, bring it on, because that’s what I want. Earnest loves Hillsong because it is challenging. Th us, churches may be arenas for safety on a fundamental level, as Zygmunt Bauman suggests, but they are also more than that. I will suggest that Mihaly Csikszent- mihaly’s theory of psychological fl ow may be relevant for understanding why ‘practical’ entrepreneurs, like Earnest, ‘love Hillsong’. Czikszent- mihaly suggests that people may experience a psychological state of ‘fl ow’ when they have a clear goal, when there is a sense of immediate feedback, and when there is a balance between challenge and opportunity on the one side, and capacity on the other (Czikszentmihaly 2003, p. 181). We have already seen that Earnest embraces Hillsong because it provides clear goals, and it is possible to see the church growth and the impact it is making on people, as forms of immediate feedback. To this, I will now add challenges, or more precisely, a balance between challenges organisational foci and individual integration 225 and skills, and the possibility of growing or developing to new levels of performance. Csikszentmihalyi (2003) suggests that when a person fi nds such a combination she will fi nd herself ‘immersed’ in a given practice, having a sense of inner enjoyment, beyond boredom, and anxiety.6 Normally this takes place when the level of challenge and required skills are high, as in the performance that Earnest describes. Csikszentmihalyi’s theory primarily describes how individuals or groups relate to practices. I will nevertheless suggest that it also might relate to Earnest’s story as a whole, since the challenging goal has existential qualities in the sense that it is rooted in a larger self- transcendent vision7, that at least to some degree defi nes what Earnest lives for, and who he is. In this perspective, his crisis can be seen as a strange combination of boredom and anxiety. He was bored because the old church failed to provide existential actions, and anxious since the distance between vision-story and practice-story seemed to be too large. His story about Hillsong, however, presents an acceptable balance between the existential and challenging vision on one side, and the collective performance of the church and high individual skills on the other. I will therefore suggest that his story is a narrative of ‘existential fl ow’.8 I will suggest that there one can fi nd a combination of challenge and confi dence in several stories, such as that of Marcus, who also struggles with the tension between vision and capabilities. Even Brittany, who seems to be more orientated towards security than Earnest, seems to seek a combination of security and challenge. In chapter 5 we saw that Brittany was ‘home’ – feeling safe, and simultaneously on a journey of discovery; which also included new challenges and personal growth. In this perspective it is not surprising that Peter, Earnest and Brittany sense

6 If the challenges coming from the demands of the status/roles set are too high, one may sense the kind of anxiety that Marcus feels when he doubts his own abilities, or when one encounters too many challenges at one time. Ruth’s situation prior to her encounter on the train, is also typical of an anxiety situation, see Csikszentmihalyi 2003, pp. 63 ff . 7 For the relationship between fl ow and self-transcendent visions, see Csikszentmihalyi 2003, ch.7. 8 Even though some elements of fl ow, described by Csikszentmihalyi (2003, pp. 42–56), in the longer list of criteria are missing, the three mentioned above seems to be suffi cient (2003, p. 181). He is not so fully immersed in a practice that the sense of time and self-consciousness are lost. Th e key element for my purpose here is the combination of safety and challenge. 226 chapter seven both a new form of inner peace with God, which seems continuous, and a passion for change and growth at the same time. In a Pentecostal theological perspective then, this can possibly be seen as a quite common combination of joy based on justifi cation and tension between the ‘already’ and ‘the not yet’ of sanctifi cation (see Land 1993).

A Comparison with McAdams ’ Research on Redemptive Stories In a recent study of American life-stories and self-help literature, Dan P. McAdams has provided a typology of redemptive scripts, or languages of redemption, based on key images and ideas. McAdams suggests that people oft en borrow the language of atonement and salvation from religious sources. Others adopt the rhetoric of emancipation from the political realm, speaking of oneself in terms of freeing oneself from bondage and oppression. A third language uses the idea of upwards social mobility as a key image. McAdams also fi nds a fourth set of ideas in self-help literature. Th ese ideas of self-development draw heavily on psychology, but sometimes also on parenting metaphors. Th is literature may also draw upon a fi ft h motive, that of enlightenment. Th is is associated with the domains of science and education. Finally, McAdams fi nds a therapeutic image of recovery and health from the domain of psychology and medicine (McAdams 2005, pp. 41–43). Th e following table shows this typology of imagery: In relation to what I have discovered so far, most of these images appear in several stories; particularly the images of empowerment and personal development. Th e imagery of success and upwards social mobility is present in the entrepreneurial imagery of Tony and Earnest,

Table 4. McAdams ’s typology of redemptive stories Type Source domains Redemptive motive Atonement Religion Sin - forgiveness, salvation Emancipation Political systems Slavery - freedom Upwards mobility Economy Poverty - wealth, social standing Recovery Medicine, psychology Sickness - health, wholeness Enlightenment Education, science Ignorance - knowledge Development Parenting, psychology Immaturity - actualisation organisational foci and individual integration 227 and in Brittany’s story about being blessed with promotions – although it is not the dominating set of images in either of these stories. Th e theme of emancipation is present in the stories of Ruth and Peter, though as a part of a more spiritual imagery that includes God and demonic forces. Likewise, the imagery of fi nding meaning and purpose may correspond to the imagery of education and enlightenment, though with a biblical horizon. Regine’s story also represents a fusion of several redemptive images, but it undoubtedly includes the therapeutic imagery of self- acceptance, which creates a plot of inner restoration or healing. Th us, much of the imagery proposed by McAdams is also recognisable in my study. One may ask however, if the imagery that McAdams ascribes to the religious domain, atonement, is actually present or absent in my respondents’ stories.

Redemption in the Context of Late Modernity Tony Payne and Gordon Cheng (2007) claim that core aspects of evangelical theology such as ‘the cross, the blood, [and] the judgment of God is virtually absent’ from Hillsong’s teaching. I will suggest Payne and Cheng’s organisational analyses is somewhat one-sided because they overlook the fact that ‘the sinner prayer’ is a standard ritual in Hillsong’s services, but I may grant Payne and Cheng the important point that the imagery of ‘sin and atonement’ do not function as the root metaphor that emplots my respondents’ narratives in terms of providing an overall structure to these stories. In Brittany’s story, guilt was an issue, but forgiveness was not the key theme in the passage that presents her crisis. Instead it is a question of identity, about fi nding out ‘if her relationship with God was real’. I will suggest that receiving ‘forgiveness for sins’ in her story is an episode within a larger story of homecoming. Gina and Susan also responded to their overwhelming encounter with God and Hillsong by asking for pardon of their sins, but this motive is integrated into a larger story of fi nding a home and being existentially empowered to live for the ‘cause’. In Pinsekirken, the evangelical ‘sin and atonement motive’ is most clearly evident in the story of Nina. In her story, fear of the wrath of God plays an important role, since she feared that the end of the world was near. Th is is the only story that clearly displays this motive as leitmotif, and it might be worth noticing that the focus in the fi rst part of her story is not moral regret, but fear for the consequences of God’s judgement. In Ruth’s, and more clearly in Regines’s story, forgiveness is a theme, but it 228 chapter seven is initiated by a search for self-acceptance, rather than by a search for atonement in relation to God. Th us, overall I will suggest that the reformatory focus on sin, guilt, atonement and justifi cation is present in both churches, but not as a key metaphor in my respondents’ stories. On the organisational level, it has been replaced by images of the kingdom of God (Hillsong) and the church mission to the world (Pinsekirken). On the personal level, the redemptive stories, at least in my material, seem to have more affi nity with what Gustaf Aulèn (2003) identifi ed as the classical redemptive motive, salvation as victory and deliverance; Jesus is the victor who triumphs over the evil forces, under which mankind is in bondage and suff ering. Th e concept of ‘bondage’ is, however, expanded and transformed by late modern themes. I will suggest that these stories refl ect the experience of being an individual in a socio-cultural context, where people must fi nd ‘biographical solutions to systemic contradictions’ (Beck and Beck-Gernsheim 2001, p. xxii). People encounter forces that are stronger than themselves in terms of broken marriages, alcoholism, occult forces, sickness and unemploy- ment, which may lead to a strong sense of loneliness and meaningless- ness, and in some cases suicidal thoughts. From these forces people seek deliverance and healing, and a new life of meaning. In the case of Yanker, one may even speak about deliverance from an extreme individualism that isolated him and tore his marriage apart. It is worth noticing that many of the new converts in my material had lived their life with a signifi cant degree of distance from the church and its meta-narrative. As we saw in the last chapter, Peter and Tony felt Christianity was something ‘safe’, associated with Danish history and culture, but it was not considered spiritual or existentially demanding. Th us, the atonement motive was not a part of their symbolic world prior to conversion. Th e ‘new’ focus on personal growth may also be seen in the light of secular horizon narratives, such as those of utilitarian and expressive individualism. I will suggest that these provide an overarching rationale to the self-help literature studied by McAdams. Th e plot of inner healing, in terms of being loved into health and self-acceptance, appear in both churches, and in particular in the Danish context. Th is plot may be associated with what Bellah calls expressive individualism. Th e holistic life- embracing and self-accepting individual, as well as the therapist, may be seen as typical characters of the narratives of expressive individualism (Bellah 2008 et al., pp. 47–48). It is therefore possible to view Regine’s story of ‘self grace’ and Ruth’s story of self-acceptance as narratives that organisational foci and individual integration 229 begin from this horizon, viewing self-acceptance as one of the major themes of life. However, as I suggested above, these stories also seem to move towards a more classical theistic horizon, even though this horizon is more infl u- ential in the other Danish narratives. Peter, Mia and Tony clearly interpret their life within the frame of the purposes and plans of God, as these are revealed in the Bible which they see as the ‘Word of God’. Stories of upward social mobility and new levels of life mastery in the workplace also appear in both churches, and in particular in Hillsong. Th is plot may be associated with utilitarian individualism (see Heelas and Woodhead 2005, p. 96), but in my respondents’ stories it is indeed also merged with a biblical horizon through the concepts of blessing, and even this hybrid does not function as a leitmotif. It is rather integrated into the larger story of the Acts 2 church. Hence, among my Hillsong respondents, personal growth is also understood within an ecclesial horizon. Th us, in most stories, growth is seen not only within an anthropocentric horizon; it is also qualifi ed as spiritual, within a theological horizon. Th is combination may possibly be seen as combination of strict meaning and personal experiences, as Heelas and Woodhead (2000) suggest. It is also possible, however, to fi nd tension between these horizons. Th ere are some confrontations between this ethics of authenticity9 and the criteria of an ethics from ‘within’, and the church teaching, particularly in the domain of sexuality. Here Regine and Ruth are somewhere in between, yet moving towards the church’s position. Overall, I will suggest that individual redemption in the late modern context is no longer seen primarily in terms of atonement of and repentance from sin. Th is motive is present, but downplayed in favour of imagery of redemption from late modern forms of bondage, and integrated into larger stories of homecoming and belonging, personal and spiritual growth, and the opportunity to live a meaningful life through self-transcendent contributions.

Th eme 10: Th e Possibility of Self-Transcendent Contributions

Th e possibility of making self-transcendent contributions appears as a reason for identifying with the church, both in the longer interviews and

9 Th e common determinate of spiritualities rooted in expressive individualism is that it follows the rationality of the ‘subjective turn’, in terms of having the courage to become one’s own authority (Heelas and Woodhead 2005, p. 4), rejecting traditional authority as external. 230 chapter seven in the survey material. Some of the life-stories above might also be read as narratives of the self as a contributor, or even history-maker, yet self- transcendent commitment may emerge based on encounters with concrete others. Again, Earnest may be a good example: So I just felt that I’m more of a people person. I love to talk, I love meeting people, I love connecting with people. I love being able to contribute to their life, growing with people, helping them grow. Likewise, several survey respondents answered that they identifi ed with the church because they served on teams, or because they were given opportunities to contribute towards something larger than themselves. Overall, I fi nd at least three objects of self-transcendent commitments in my material. Th ese are commitments towards God, towards the church, and towards concrete others. Th is commitment leads to self- transcendent contributions in several forms. In Earnest’s case we saw that his photography is seen as a practical contribution to the church, worship is off ered to God, and care is given to his life group members.

Tales of Callings to Serve, Build and Lead in the Church Th e degree to which such transformational practices give shape to my respondents’ overall identity will be discussed in the next chapter. How- ever, in the interviews presented in chapters four and fi ve, we also saw that people identifi ed strongly with Th eo-dramatic imagoes. By this, I mean self-characters that have an important role in the Th eo-drama, and in the specifi c task of building a church. Some of these roles may not be central to a given person, or they may be embraced with some distance, as in Ruth’s case before she became a member, but they are obviously resources for identity formation. Th ese imagoes were unsurprisingly very important in the stories of staff members and leaders. One type of story that plays a particular important role in this context is the calling narrative. It is presented as an important reason for how one becomes and remains a leader. It is more common in Pinsekirken, but not totally absent in Hillsong. I have already told the stories of John and Marcus in some depth, and for this reason I will not retell their stories, but rather summarise their narratives by identifying some key elements. First, there is a basic commitment to God prior to the calling. Marcus and John had already dedicated their lives to God, when they were called to Copenhagen. Secondly, they received a calling to become a leader, in their inner conversation, probably through a way of sensing the Spirit. In both stories there is an element of surprise. Marcus’ basic call to serve organisational foci and individual integration 231

God is also presented as a kind of invasion. Yet, later, this calling is confi rmed by an external calling from the church, followed by a third phase of inner struggle, which includes doubt or even resistance, as we shall see in another calling story in the next chapter. In the fourth stage the person accepts the calling and begins to minister. Callings are important, because working in a Free Church may require self-transcendent sacrifi ces beyond the convenient. Marcus fi nds the many tasks, and the sets of expectations that he meets in the church, including his own, very demanding. He must also sacrifi ce a lot of time with his family and friends because he must work hard, sometimes every day and every evening in a full week. Finally, he also fi nds himself struggling economically. For these reasons, he fi nds questions about both self- transcendence and performance dynamics pertinent. If he should make sacrifi ces, it should be ‘good for something’, something that really makes a moral or theological diff erence in the world. As we saw in chapter four, these questions led to several types of tension and struggles in his inner conversation. Indeed, in these circumstances, the calling may be crucial, in terms of inspiring him to maintain his commitment to continue to serve, even though it implies diffi cult sacrifi ces. As I also suggested above, such stories of self-transcendent leadership are best understood by means of biblical typologies of prophetic callings rather than by classic literary forms. Th e key diff erence between the story of the prophet and the classic romantic plot, can, in my view, be identifi ed in the source of the hero’s victory and strength. In the romantic plot, the protagonist conquers and gains victory through growing heroic virtues. In some prophetic narratives, as in the stories of Joseph, Jeremiah, and Paul, the hero may receive power to transform, but he may also remain weak, even suff ering, and yet be strong in God (2 Cor. 11–12; Jer. 10:16. See also Jervell 1976).

Personal Integration Identifi cation Defi ned

Personal integration identifi cation thus means that people fi nd resources for personal integration in the church.10 Th e church may be or entail important concerns that function as centre, where the self locates its story and priorities. Th e refl ective process of centring is in most cases

10 Th e signifi cance given to these themes may be infl uenced by the fact the interview is an interview about this commitment, but these themes nevertheless seems to be present in their biographies. 232 chapter seven experienced as voluntary and authentically ‘intrinsic’, but is nevertheless conditioned by organisational structures. Overall then, I have identifi ed three sets of reasons that may serve both as causes for identifying with the church, and as tools for integrating or centring the self. Th ese sets are (1) a sense of a personal centre and the process of centring, (2) a sense of personal growth, and (3) the possibility, or calling, to make self- transcendent contributions. Th ese elements act together in mutual interplay. We may then add the following model of the human agent to the model that was developed in the chapter six.

Towards a Model of Integrative Th emes

Based on my respondents’ commitment stories, I will therefore suggest that these stories can be summed up roughly in three oft en connected sets of images and themes that seem to integrate the stories of my respond ents. Th ese are (1) stories of homecoming and personal integration that present God as the loving parent, and the church as one’s spiritual home, (2) narratives of holistic empowerment and personal

Figure 4. Personal integration identifi cation organisational foci and individual integration 233 development that present God as the caring ‘trainer’, ‘developer’, and in some occasions ‘healer’, and (3) stories about fi nding meaning in contributing to the Th eo-drama, by making self-transcendent contributions to the drama of God. A radical type of this kind of story is stories about divine callings, presented above.

Towards an Overarching Model of Organisational Identifi cation

Overall then, I have identifi ed ten identifi cation themes, seven related to organisational foci, and three related to one’s sense of personal identity. Th e relationship between these constructs is complex, since each individual construct may correspond to several organisational qualities at the same time. Th is is illustrated in the model below.

Figure 5. Organisational identifi cation and personal integration 234 chapter seven

Th e Five Meta-Categories and Ontological Dimensions Th is model also proposes fi ve meta-categories; spirituality identifi cation, narrative ideational identifi cation, socio-relational identifi cation, practice dynamics identifi cation, and personal integrity identifi cation. Th ese meta-categories may be considered to be overarching categories emerging from a fusion of qualitative coding and theoretical interpretation of concrete interaction. However, I will also suggest that these fi ve categories can be seen as a conceptualisation of variables that are embedded in fi ve dimensions or strata of reality that are interplaying, and yet ‘irreducible’ to one another.

A Note on the ‘Missing’ Natural Dimension Th is proposal also evokes ontological and systematic theological questions. A full-fl edged philosophical analysis of the nature of these categories cannot be provided, due to the scope of this project, yet some comments must be made. It is worth noticing that perhaps the most fundamental way of being in the world, man’s basic relation to nature, is not defi ned as a meta-category. It is rather viewed as an underlying construct. Th is is done for empirical rather than for philosophical reasons.11

Th e Practical Dimension What I have called performance dynamics and practice dynamics belongs primarily to the dimension that Archer calls our practical relation to the world. However, it is also related to socioal systems through the practices of ‘organizing’.12 What I have called performance dynamics, or

11 Physical variables were not presented as self-suffi cient reasons for identifying, with one exception. Geography was not an important theme in the longer interview or in the survey material in London, but 1.86 per cent of the Danish survey respondents presented geography as one of three reasons for identifying. Th is does not qualify statistically or hermeneutically as one of the ten most important reasons, but geographical presence may nevertheless be a variable that is taken for granted by most of my respondents. Even though Hillsong is seen as a more trans-local church, it seems obvious that geography is an important ‘contextual variable’ for physical attendance. 12 It’s worth noticing however that it is possible to distinguish analytically between organizing and organisational structure. Likeweise, aesthetic codes obviously belong to the socio-cultural domain, but the relationship between these codes and primacy of practice may be seen as equivalent to the relationship between language and the practice of speakingI adhere to Merleau-Ponty’s (2002) suggestion that the diff erentiation between self and otherness in practice is prior to linguistics (however, I also adhere to Archer ’s critique of his ontology, see Archer 2000, p.128). I see practice dynamics and organisational foci and individual integration 235 practice dynamics, seems to be evaluated by my participants in terms of the ‘results’ such as ‘an experience of eff ectiveness’ or ‘a sense of beauty’.

Th e Socio-Relational Dimension and Virtues Relational quality identifi cation belongs to the socio-relational domain, denoting a person’s relationship and interaction with other people. Rela- tional qualities can be seen as a domain of togetherness and seems to be evaluated primalry in terms of ethical criteria or virtues defi ning good relationships or experinces of such realtionships.13

Th e Personal-Refl ective Dimension Th us, basically I follow Archer and her conceptualisation of ideas (culture), social structure, and human agency as the diff erent strata of reality, with relative autonomous proprieties. Personal identifi cation obviously belongs to the domain of human agency and personal identity, which is related to, but nevertheless distinct from, social identities (see Archer 2000).

Th e Ideational and Existential Dimension However, unlike Archer (1988) I will suggest that the cultural or ideational domain is characterized not only by non-contradictory logic, but also by narrative plots or what Jerome Bruner (1985) identifi es as the narrative mode of knowing.14 Th us, as Browning (1996) suggests, it aesthetic as an extension of this way of being in the world, in terms of ‘getting things done beautifully’. As I suggested above, pre-linguistic forms of human auto-poesis may be grounded in what Stein Bråten (1999) calls the virtual other in the mind. 13 In this sense the social or relational dimension is a fundamental aspect of the ‘human being in the world’ that is complex, in the sense that it concerns both micro- sociological relationships with concrete others, and a sense of belonging to a community or social system that transcends face to face relationships. Following Margaret Archer and David Lockwood, I will suggest that one should make an analytical distinction between social integration and system integration, common in open systems theory. Th us, society cannot simply be reduced to ‘other people’, although these are essential in terms of defi ning the dimension as irreduciblesee also Archer 1989. 14 Here structural independence from the other strata is achived by plot rather thab by ‘logio-scientifi c coherence’.In chapter six, I suggested that vision and practice narratives seem to be more important than dogmatic propositional doctrine, in terms of being reasons for identifying. Th is seems to confi rm the suggestion of Bruner (1985) and Bellah (2006) (see also McAdams 2006) that the narrative mode of knowing seems to play a more fundamental role than the logio-scientifi c mode of thought, in terms of 236 chapter seven might be fruitful to distinguish between principles on one side, and narratives on the other, but this distinction should not be pushed too far since my participants understanding of principles seems to be story- dependent to a signifi cant degree. Questions about truth are important to my respondents. Th e narratives provided by these churches are, however, primarily embraced because they off er answers to what Harry Frankfurt (1988, p. 80) identifi es as the ‘third basic philosophical question’: what we care about. Th is ‘existential domain’ is defi ned by mankind’s need to fi nd meaning, in terms of integrating or ordering answers, to the questions emerging from the natural, practical, and social domains, into a more or less meaningful whole. Man is, as Charles Taylor (1985a) suggested, ‘a self-interpreting animal that to some degree depends on language to create this web of meaning’. Existential identifi cation will therefore be expressed in ideational forms, including both visions and obligations (see Browning 1996), but should not be reduced to merely ‘ideas’.15

Th e Spirituality Dimension Th e spirituality dimension might be the most controversial of the fi ve core categories. It is not explicit as a core category in Browning’s model, and it seems to be subsumed under the primacy of practice in Archer’s model, although she maintains that subject – transcendent relations may be ontologically real (Archer 1995, p. 1). As I suggested above, like Shults and Sandage (2006, p. 25), I understand spirituality as ‘ways of relating of the sacred’. I prefer this defi nition over other defi nitions that see spirituality as the integrating centre of a person or group, since it is possible providing meaningful identifi cation, at least within my sample of respondents. Th is does not mean that logio-scientifi c thinking is unimportant. Even Earnest, who was tired of theological teaching, uses the logio-scientifi c mode of thinking in his theory of the ‘entrepreneurial person’ (see the analysises above). 15 Language has both an ‘expressive function’, in terms of articulating experiences from, in part, pre-linguistic practices, on the one hand, and a ‘creative function’ on the other, in the sense that, as one of several factors, it gives shape to and co-creates new experiences, relationships and practicesBoth functions are integral to most speech acts, and both functions may mediate representations of other phenomena (in terms of point- ing to and transferring). Th us, the interplay between agents and language may create the dialectics that Peter Berger and Th omas Luckmann described as the dialectics of exter- nalisation, objectifi cation and internalisation (see Berger and Luckmann 1966).Th is is a useful model, but critical realists, like myself, will insist that religious experiences may transcend this interplay (see appendix A below). organisational foci and individual integration 237 to have a relation to the sacred without allowing this relationship to become one’s integrating centre. I will suggest that the spirituality dimension cannot to be reduced to the existential dimension of human life, even if these dimensions are closely connected. Th e existential dimension denotes, in my view, a holistic and meaningful interpretation of life. Spirituality is in my view, also includes subject–subject encounter with the Sacred ‘Other’, that at least potentially, transcend human interpretation of this ‘Other’. It follows that the spirituality dimension transcends the narrative dimension, because it is an ontological relationship to the sacred ‘Other’, and not only an ideational representation of this relationship.

Th e Relatedness of the Five Categories – Mutual Interpenetration? Th ese categories are irreducible to each other on both an ontological and analytical level, but they must nonetheless be understood in relation to each other, as in the model above. Furthermore, one may ask if these constructs are more than related, implying at least three key problems. Th e fi rst problem is ontological. I will suggest that there is a kind of ‘fuzziness’ about how the fi ve ways of being in the world, relate to each other. From an empirical point of view, it seems useful to follow Talcott Parson ’s classic proposal, suggesting that there is both a degree of autonomy or ‘irreducibility’, and a degree of ‘mutual inter-penetration’ between the diff erent dimensions in a given human practice.16 Th is may be displayed below exemplifi ed by the practice of worship:

16 See Parsons and Platt 1973, ch.1, my interpretation of Parsons is heavily indebted to Bellah (2006, pp. 5–6). At this point I am possibly moveing beyond Archer’s model of agency in terms of mutual inter- penetration. I nevertheless maintain some form of irreducibility. Th e practice of ecclesial worship may serve as an example. It is possible to distinguish between the participants’ relations to God and their relations to one another, as the ecclesia gathers to worship God, but it is not easy to draw an absolute boundary between these dimensions. I will suggest that a sense of ‘mutual interpenetrating togetherness’ may emerge as people ‘share inner time’ with one another in the presence of God’s Spirit. Likewise, the aesthetic and narrative aspects of the practice may also enter into this mutual interplay in ways that transform both of them. I am not suggesting that these modes of being enter into each other’s constitution to the degree that it is impossible to distinguish between them. Yet, in the experience of worship they may merge to the degree that they overlap, in terms of infl uencing each other’s characteristics. From a Pentecostal theological perspective it seems clear that people, also may be fi lled with the Spirit, and experience some form of relational union or intimacy with the Spirit, which is an extension of Trinitarian relations (John. 14, 16–20). 238 chapter seven

Figure 6. Worship – as a multi-dimensional practice

Th e second problem is hermeneutical. How then, should one distinguish between these dimensions when a respondent say that she or he identifi es with the church because of worship, or because she fi nds the music to be excellent. Th is can only be done through an act of hermeneutical discernment, where one emphasises one aspect of a phenomenon over other aspects.17

Th e Semi-Quantitative Data Th ese underlying concepts are therefore not necessarily mutually exclusive as categories. Th is raises a third, practical problem in relation to conventional qualitative analysis, which ideally is based on pre- fabricated, and mutually exclusive concepts (Johannesen 2004, p. 25).

17 To understand worship primarily as a form of spirituality, as I did in chapter six, is therefore a hermeneutical choice, though based on close reading of my respondents’ stories. To see the reference to ‘excellent music’ primarily as an aesthetic reference is another hermeneutical choice. Th is demonstrates that the hermeneutical process that includes qualitative ‘clustering’ of codes, concepts, and sub-categories, implies hermeneutical choices where the researcher makes analytical distinctions between partly over- lapping and partly ambiguous references. organisational foci and individual integration 239

I will nonetheless argue that it is possible to count ‘related categories’ in qualitative research as well (see also Miles and Huberman 1994, pp. 252– 253) but one should acknowledge that what I have counted, on the most fundamental level, are ‘condensate’ reasons for identifying that are integrated into higher-order concepts by hermeneutical interpretation. Overall then, my use of the semi-quantitative data is based on hermeneutical interpretation, and I see these data as an important contribution to the qualitative analysis as a whole. Yet, the readers should be warned, although the following description is consistent with the other parts of the qualitative analysis that are presented in this study, the fi gures that appear in the tables below are not ‘objective-distinctive isolated facts’ in the way that statistical language might lead us to believe.18

A Focus on Organisational Foci over Individual Relevance Because of the blurred character of terms like ‘relevance’ and ‘home’, it is very diffi cult to identify the exact ratio between reasons describing individual relevance and reasons describing organisational foci. Nevertheless, regardless of where one places these terms, it seems clear that people tend to think of their identifi cation primarily in terms of organisational foci. In Pinsekirken, it might be reasonable to read terms like ‘home’ primarily as an individual reference, since there are far more references to home than family in this material, and home here more oft en stands alone, without a reference to family. Yet, even if one counts home and relevance on the side of individual relevance, such references account for only 17.18 per cent of the references, whereas 82.9 per cent refer to organisational foci. Th e gender diff erence was insignifi cant (17.32% versus 17.11 %). In Hillsong, the material may be interpreted diff erently since ‘home’ in both qualitative material and in the quantitative survey was more oft en linked to references to family. Reading this construct primarily as a relational construct would lead to a ratio of 82.1 per cent over 16.9 per cent.

18 Another problem that must be taken into account is the small size of the ‘convenience’ sample in Hillsong. It follows that my use of the survey material will be very limited and selective. Th e small sample may overall be better suited for identifying replication than for comparative analysis. In the following I will present two fi ndings that may be signifi cant in terms of replication. I will also discuss possible comparative fi ndings in the next chapter, but these will be compared to relevant qualitative material, which overall is given more weight in this study. 240 chapter seven

Th e Signifi cance of Socio-Relational Qualities and Spirituality Th e following diagram shows the average number respondents per identifi cation theme. Th e diagram also shows that ‘relational qualities’ is by far the most important identifi cation theme in statistical terms, and that spirituality, which includes references to liturgical practices19, is the second most important in both churches. Overall, there is more than one reference to relational qualities per respondent (from 102 to 110%). However, teaching and theology20, other practices21 and growth dynamics, also have a score of more than 20 per cent. Th is also applies to both genders. Some- what surprisingly, relational qualities seem slightly more important for men than women in both churches, although the diff erence is not

Figure 7. Identifi cation with organisational foci

19 Liturgical practices include references to the services as a whole, as well as to worship, prayer and sacraments (baptism) but not preaching, which is counted under teaching and theology. 20 If one makes comparative analyses, the most signifi cant diff erence in the diagrams above is between various forms of ideational identifi cation in the two churches. Vision is the most important form of ideational identifi cation in Hillsong, whereas respondents from Pinsekirken emphasise teaching and theology. Th is fi nding will be discussed in the light of the qualitative fi ndings in the next chapter. 21 It is worth noticing that 13% of the 30 % that identify with practices in Pinsekirken actually identify with a variety of practices and activities, without referring to them as dynamic, and that growth and size dynamics in church refers to size and not only growth. Th us, the number of people that identify with action and growth dynamic is larger in Hillsong. organisational foci and individual integration 241 signifi cant. I will return to this question in a qualitative analysis of the gender in chapter nine. Because of the blurred character of some terms, I counted individual and organisational themes separately, viewing them as distinctive, yet her meneutically compatible, analytical perspectives. Th e analysis of individual constructs was nevertheless considered somewhat more problematic, due to more ambiguity, in terms of constructs.

Conclusion

In this chapter I have shown that there are at least three ways in which the organisational foci are relevant to my respondents’ lives and identities. Firstly, these churches are relevant as a locus of ‘selfi ng’ in the sense of a place where one can centre oneself, and construct one’s identity in a complex process, which includes both a sense of freedom and a sense of belonging. Secondly, they also provide resources for personal growth, and fi nally, they provide arenas for self-transcendent contributions, where people can serve a cause larger than themselves, or pursue their sense of calling. In this chapter I have also suggested fi ve meta-categories of organisational identifi cation that are embedded in strata of reality that are seen as irreducible to one another, though I assume that a degree of mutual inter-penetration takes place in actual social interaction. I have also emphasised how these categories interact. For this reason, as well as for other reasons, I use my statistical data cautiously. However, three statistical tendencies were identifi ed in both churches: (1) people tend to think more oft en about organisational foci than about individual identifi cation themes, (2) socio-relational reasons for identifi cation seem to be the most important ones. In terms of average there is more than one reference to relational qualities per respondent. (3) Spirituality and liturgical practices seem to be the second most important reason for identifying. chapter eight

ARE TRANSFORMATIONAL COMMITMENTS FORMED?

Th eoretical Prologue In this chapter I will focus on whether participation in the church inspires and nurtures new or reinforces existing transformational commitments.1 Bernard Bass and James McGregor Burns agree that transformational leaders move those infl uenced to transcend or go beyond their own self-interest for the good of the group, organisation or society, or for what Burns calls collective purposes (Bass 1985, p.15; Burns 1978, p. 33). Th is seems to have affi nity with Bellah’s conception of individuals who can make decisions to create a good society2, within and on behalf of institutions based on visionary political imagination of public goods (Bellah1991, p. 3; 2008, p. 271). Th is type of commitment can be seen as a form of meaningful self-transcendence that has been identifi ed in the tradition of existential psychology (Frankl 1985, see also Csikszentmihaly 2003, p. 56). However, one may ask if self-transcendence necessarily also implies that followers sacrifi ce their own interests and life-plans for the sake of the organisation (Stevens, D’Intino and Victor 1995, p. 135). Th is is a possible moral problem to which I will return in the fi nal chapter. At this point, it is suffi cient to say that Bass provides a twofold answer to this critique. Firstly, he suggests that: If individual interests are to be sacrifi ced, it is only to be done for the sake of attaining virtue and justice, not for wealth or for possessions or to serve the leader’s interests. (Bass and Steidlmaier 1999, p. 195)

1 Since this chapter has a synchronic focus, I will not focus on the diff erence between initial and later commitments. 2 See Bass and Riggio 2007, p. 14. In the later version of Bass’s theory, an overarching moral mission is also a prerequisite for authentic transformational leadership, although he leaves open whether this mission is outlined in terms of a collective utilitarian vision of happiness, or whether it is a vision of moral duty, or of the common good rooted in a religious tradition. As Northouse (2007, p. 348) suggests, the theory obviously raises question about the validity of moral traditions and the question about how to choose the better set of values. 244 chapter eight

However, he also goes on to suggest that ‘sacrifi ces [do] not necessarily have to be implied’, given that the transformational leader: …conceives of the organization’s ultimate criterion of worth as the extent to which it satisfi es all of its stakeholders. (Bass and Steidlmaier 1999, p. 205). Bass and Burns also suggest that the follower’s self-esteem, or self- concept, is expanded by transformational leadership (Bass and Riggio 2007, p. 39; Burns 1978, p. 100), leading to diff erent forms of self- actualisation.3 From these observations, one might ask whether forms of transactional psychological exchange take place in this kind of leadership, to the degree that it is possible to see this as basically motivated by a transaction of psychological goods. Despite this, Bass (1985, p.14) maintains that transformational leaders inspire the follower to rise above cost-benefi t calculation. Th e contrast between transactional and transformational leadership is therefore sharper in terms of ‘the nature of the process’ than in terms of ‘the outcome’. Th is is, as we saw in chapter fi ve, a possible interpretation of Dustin’s story of being ‘elected’, and would imply that the distinction between transforming and transactional leadership becomes quite hazy. As an alternative I will suggest that it is the ‘presence’ of a self- transcendent objective, and not the ‘absence’ possible of transactional motives, that defi nes transformational leadership. Burns also makes a careful distinction between ‘the quest for individual recognition and self-advancement’, on one hand, and ‘the kind of status and power that can be used to advance collective purposes’, on the other (Burns 1978, p. 106).4 Th us, transformational leadership may be seen as a continuum that moves from a synergic combination of individual benefi ts and collective purposes, progressing to more radical forms of altruistic sacrifi ces made for ‘justice or virtue’. Th is ‘broad’ conception of transformational commitment will be the theoretical starting point of this chapter.

3 See Bass 1985, pp. 93–99; Bass and Riggio 2007, p. 5. In the early versions of transformational leadership theory, both Bass and Burns saw transformational leadership as a social infl uence process that expanded ‘the portfolio’ of the follower’s needs and wants towards the higher level of Maslow’s need hierarchy (Bass 1985, p. 20). 4 Th is might be seen as ‘an expansion of followers’ self-concept’ (Bass 1985, p. 18), which simultaneously transcends the individualism that is implied in ‘rational choice’ theories that reinterpret altruism to psychological exchange – based on self-interest. are transformational commitments formed? 245

Dimension 1: Commitment to the Church’s Narrative

Th e theorists above would agree that it is the vision of the common good that qualifi es the leadership process, or a given commitment, as authentically transformational.5 It follows that inspirational motivation becomes a key variable in Bass’s theory, because it is the vision that qualifi es other modes of leadership as authentically transformational. From a theological perspective, I will suggest that it is the explicit theology of the church’s teaching and the implicit theology of the vision that qualifi es a given ecclesial commitment as valid. So far, I follow Steven Land’s suggestion that authentic Christian aff ections are ‘belief-shaped’ (Land 1993, p. 44). For this reason, one might suggest that it is alarming that only 27.2 per cent of the respondents in Hillsong, and only 6.2 per cent in Pin- sekirk en, claim that they identify with the church because of its vision. For theologians, it might be thought-provoking that only 18.2 per cent of the respondents in Hillsong, and only 25.7 per cent of the respondents in Pinsekirken, presented teaching, preaching or theology as one of their three most important reasons for identifying. Overall, this means that 45.5 per cent of the respondents in Hillsong, and 31.9 per cent of the respondents in Pinsekirken, presented forms of Th eo-dramatic identifi - cation as one of their three most important reasons for identifying with the church. It should be noted, however, that teaching, theology and vision seem to play a more important role in the qualitative material, also in terms of infusing practices with meaning. In chapter six we saw that liturgical practices like worship also inspire commitment to parts of the church’s visional story.

A Comparative Note Th e process of identifying seems, however, to be diff erent in the two contexts. In the qualitative material, key images from the church’s story, such as the church as ‘God’s house’ and ‘God’s family’ appeared in all the stories from London with one exception,6 whereas in Pinsekirken, key

5 As Antonakis and House suggest, in this theory it is the ideals of the leaders that ‘ignite’ charisma (Antonakis and House 2003, p. 8). 6 Th e image/imagoe set of God’s house/a church builder, and the church as home/I am part of a family appeared in almost all participant narratives in Hillsong. Th e exception is the shorter story of Yanker, who nonetheless employed the imagoe of the person who considers church his life. 246 chapter eight images from the church’s vision (or meso-story) appeared mainly among staff members. Interestingly, Linda, who has studied in Sydney, but serves in Pinsekirken, seems to ‘borrow’ her interpretative repertoire from Hillsong, when she explains why she centres her life in Pinsekirken: Th at has to do with some of the teaching from Hillsong, as well. Th ey’re very strong in the ‘Stay where you are, church is important, church is your home’. Th us, overall it seems that Hillsong to a larger degree presents ecclesial images and imagoes that become an essential part of the respondents’ self-narrative. Th e quantitative data shows the same tendency. Commit- ment to the church’s vision seems to be relatively more important in Hillsong than in Pinsekirken, as displayed in the table below. Respondents in Pinsekirken, however, give more emphasis to teaching and theology. Th e fi gures in the following table show the relative importance of diff erent variables within each sample.7 Yet if one combines the two, one might suggest that the Jesus-and-I discipleship is given more weight in Pinsekirken, whereas the idea of being ‘being planted in the church’ is somewhat more central in Hillsong.

Bellah on Sects – and the Nature of Transformational Commitment We have seen that in both churches, ecclesial commitment seems to be derived from a more fundamental commitment to God. Th is focus on ‘Jesus-and-I’ might be a problem, at least if one defi nes authentic transformational commitment as commitment to public goods, from the perspective of Robert Bellah . Bellah (2006f, p. 345) suggests that ‘Jesus-and-I’ piety (or ‘Jesuolatry’, see Bellah 2006h, p. 461) is only a hair’s breadth apart from the secular or alternative religious individualism that sees the

Figure 8. Ideational identifi cation

7 For the exact fi gures, see above, chapter seven. are transformational commitments formed? 247 individual as the ‘preeminent being in the universe’. He goes on to suggest that the key question is ecclesiological: Is the church primarily a collection of individuals, each of whom has accepted Jesus Christ as his or her saviour, or is it the body of Christ? (Bellah 2006f, p. 346) He sees the body as a second language metaphor, and suggests that Prot- estant churches to a larger degree should emphasise physical signs of such belonging, as in the sacrament of the Eucharist. Bellah sees this relationship within the framework of a ‘church-sect’ typology. He suggests that churches conceptualise themselves as ontologically prior to the individual. Th e church is imagined as the Body of Christ, and appears with a robust social structure. Th us, these churches provide what Bellah calls ‘second languages’ (Bellah 2008 et al., pp. 243–244). Sects, on the other hand are, according to Bellah, religious societies that view themselves as voluntary associations of believers that depend on the commitment of their members. Moreover, since the structures of sects are weak and egalitarian, sects need to draw a sharp line between members and others. It follows that there is little room for compromises, and this leads to exclusion of members or groups who become ‘impure’ by deviating from key norms. It follows that Bellah prefers churches to sects, since they are less individualistic, more open to the world, and yet at the same time more inclusive (2008, pp. 244–245). For the purpose of this study, this typology has a very relevant implication. Do the ‘sects’ off er an authentic ‘second language’, or are the languages of Free Churches really fi rst languages?

Individualistic or Ecclesial Models of Life? Th e church is also understood as the body of Christ in Hillsong’s story (see chapter three), but it does not appear as a key metaphor in the narratives of my respondents. Th e most important images in these narratives are images of the church as ‘the family of God’ and as ‘the house of God’. Th e latter may also be interpreted as an organic metaphor, based on the expression ‘being planted in the house of God’. Th is metaphor of being planted in the house of God functions as a leitmotif in Brian Houston’s book, How to fl ourish in life. Th is book, which was briefl y presented in chapter three, provides in my view an important answer to questions concerning the relationship between the individual and the church in Hillsong’s theology. 248 chapter eight

Firstly, Houston does not condemn the fi rst level of church involvement, ‘enjoyment’. At this point, he does not judge all self-interest as sinful. Houston also suggests that pastors should ask themselves whether people fl ourish under their leadership.

As a Senior Pastor I have to ask myself a very important question. Can the people in our church fl orish under my ministry and if not, why would they stay planted? (Houston 2003, pp. 3; 5) Th e last sentence may be read as an affi rmation of a consumerist thinking. Participants are believed to, and allowed to, choose churches based on their experiences of personal growth. Th is might be read as a kind of ‘fi rst language’, in Bellah’s terminology. Here the individual appears as the primary reality who ‘plants’ herself in a church, based on whether she grows or not. However, it is not obvious that personal growth is a purely transactional motif. As we saw in the previous chapter, the growth discourse might have several horizons. Moreover, even if this is interpreted as a transactional motif, it does not stand alone, ‘planting oneself’ is not the whole story. To the contrary, Houston suggests that a person who remains at this level of involvement is ‘immature’, in the sense that she ‘scratches only on the surface of God’s purposes’ (Houston 2003, p. 27). Th us, there seems to be a somewhat individualistic theology of creation here that suggests that all people are interested in what Houston calls enjoyment, yet this theology points towards the possibility of rising above this nature, towards a higher level of self-transcendence, by the grace of God. We have seen that in the three next stages, the participant moves gradually towards becoming ‘planted’ progressively deeper in the church, until they are ‘carrying the load’. ‘Kingdom minded people’, according to Houston, understand that they have a purpose far greater than themselves, and they make sacrifi ces in order to fulfi l the church’s vision, which ultimately serves the Cause of the Kingdom (Houston 2003, p. 15). Th e Cause of Christ is prior to the individual. We have also seen, both in Houston’s books and in the empirical material, that in order to serve ‘the cause’, the individual must die to a self-centred life. To be a part of the church and serve the cause of Christ is therefore the ultimate purpose of the individual, simultaneously as it transcends the individual. Th us, in relation to Bellah’s sociological typology, I will suggest that one may identify elements of both an individualistic ‘fi rst language’, and a more communitarian ‘second language’. First, the individual’s relation to the fellowship is seen as fundamentally voluntarily. Th is seems to are transformational commitments formed? 249 build on a perception of the individual as relatively independent, although she or he can become involved in a fellowship gradually, based on her or his own choice. At least on the surface, this corresponds to one of the basic assumptions of what Bellah calls ‘fi rst languages’, in the sense that it promotes ontological individualism. However, in terms of the divine purpose for her life, the participant is misplaced if she is not deeply ‘planted in the House of God’. As this organic metaphor implies, from the perspective of the given divine telos for her life, she is also ontologically dependent on the church. Moreover, the church’s vision represents a conception of what Bellah renders essential for second languages, namely a conception of ‘the common good’, or a common telos of the organisation, which transcends the sum of generated individual self-interest. Th e church is also something that is given prior to the individual in Hillsong’s teaching. In her book on the church, Bobbie Houston suggests that the individuals, as parts of the body of Christ, are designed to contribute to the body and therefore must turn away from an attitude of ‘independence’ and from ‘enviousness’. She suggests that churches and individuals become healthy when they grasp the revelation of this call, because a body ‘is only as eff ective as its collective health’ (Houston 2001a, p. 89). As we saw in chapter three, the church itself also serves a greater cause, which is the Kingdom of God. Overall, it seems that the ‘common good’ of the church is more important than individualistic interests, even if there is a synergistic relationship of mutual enablement between them. Th us, mature participants will think in terms of a ‘second language’ when they sacrifi ce ‘time and resources’, and become ‘whatever it takes - people’ for the cause of Christ in the church (Houston 2003). Overall, I will suggest that Houston’s model of life is basically an ecclesial model of life. Although Houston and Clarke to some degree use the vocabulary of individualistic success, or what Bellah calls utilitarian fi rst language, they are actually inviting people into another paradigm, which is essentially an ecclesiological model of human life. Th e image of the church as a body of Christ also appears in Pinsekirken’s book Livet er en gave, but it is primarily interpreted functionally rather ontologically. In Pinsekirken, the church is seen as a community of disciples that gather around Jesus to worship and serve him, by giving the gospel to the world (Tangstad 2006, pp. 93; 105). Th is focus on discipleship, and the commitment script that begins with individual faith, seem indeed to have affi nity with the incomplete ecclesiology that Bellah describes in terms of ‘collection of individuals’. 250 chapter eight

However, this is not the whole story, the church is also seen as ‘larger than the individual’, in terms of being a collective body that serves the world, almost as a sacrament, in the sense of being a visible sign (its service transcends its preaching). Finally, the church claims that it is impossible to be a disciple without a church, because the new life has the character of shared vision, worship, and devotion (Tangstad 2006, pp. 19; 73). Th e frequently recurring point that the church is ‘more than an institution’ (Tangstad 2006, p. 19) should in my view be interpreted in the light of the Pentecostal tradition, and its understanding of the church as the body of Christ, or community ‘in the Spirit’. Peter’s ecclesiology, described in chapter four, seems to affi rm this understanding of the church as a Spirit-united community. Th us, there are also elements of a more communitarian language in Pinsekirken, but this language is primarily orientated towards an organic interpersonal fellowship, which also functions as God’s instrument in the world.

Free Church Languages – A Th eological Critique of Bellah ’s Typology Both churches in this study seem to be standing in the Pentecostal tradition, which has seen the church primarily as a pneumatic-organic community, empowered by the Spirit to represent Christ in the world (Land 1993). One might add that this view is compatible with a view of the Eucharist that sees socio-spiritual unity as emerging primarily from the spiritual connectedness rather than (primarily) from the visibility of the sign.8 From a theological perspective, I will suggest that Bellah on a more general level seems to overlook the pneumatological unity and primacy which constitutes the church in Free Church ecclesiology.9 Moreover, in chapter three we have seen that both Pinsekirken and Hillsong pursue common goods, such as the glorifi cation of God and communal shalom, within the framework of the biblical tradition and its conception of God’s kingdom. I will therefore suggest that these churches in particular, and the Free Church tradition in general, may be seen as ‘spiritual communitarians’, since their narratives and pneumatology describe an ontological organic community in a way that transcends a

8 Th e nature of the Eucharist, or the Lord’s Supper, cannot be discussed in depth here, but I will suggest that the Pentecostal tradition roughly is compatible with the ‘encounter’ model proposed by Hendrikus Berkhof (1979, pp. 362–369; 376–379). 9 Like Emil Brunner, some churches in this tradition see the church as a non-institutional, spiritual-personal communion, with God’s love in the Spirit, which transcends the objective-subjective divide (Brunner 1951). are transformational commitments formed? 251 fi rst language perception of the world. Th is may explain the fact that Bellah almost reluctantly admits that Free Church ecclesiologies have also demonstrated community-forming capacity (Bellah 2006f, p. 347). At the same time they seem to be ontological individualists in the way they speak about the church as a voluntary social organisation. Th us, they combine fi rst and second languages. In the case of Pinsekirken, where the communitarian vision to a some what lesser degree transcends the ‘Jesus-and-me piety’, this leads to fewer references to the church vision among the participants (in my material), and perhaps weaker social cohesion. Hillsong’s model is therefore somewhat more communitarian, yet it represents a Pentecostal ecclesi ology that can be criticised for being sociologically incoherent or incomplete, since it thinks individualistically and communitarian simultaneously. I will suggest, however, that this kind of Pentecostal model in part can be defended, and in part can be developed further, by means of Margaret Archer ’s sociological model of ‘structure and agency’ (presented in chapter two). Archer’s model allows for the paradox that Volf formulates: ‘Th e church exists even if I do not believe, yet without at least some believing there can be no church’ (Volf 1998, p. 147). Here Archer’s model is promising, because she maintains that structures have ontological existence, without proposing that this structure exists independent of concrete interaction (Archer 1995, pp. 61–64; 2003, pp. 4–8). From this activity-dependent concept of structure one could possibly develop a model of the church, which avoids the dangerous tendency towards structural reifi cation, as in Bellah’s model, and yet maintain that the church is ontologically real, both as a spiritual community and organisational structure. Such a project, however, cannot be completed within the scope of this study. Finally, in one area it can be argued that Pinsekirken may fulfi l Bellah’s criterion for a community of memory better than both Hillsong and the ‘high church tradition’ that Bellah seems to prefer. Th is is in the area of ‘shared decision making’. As we saw in the case of Peter, even though his ecclesial language is somewhat limited, Peter still cares for the church and its members, and for this reason he has attended the church meetings, and at times voted against his leaders. Th is implies a more active involvement, which might be considered as one of the strengths of the classic Scandinavian Pentecostal church, in comparison with both neo-apostolic and other clerical models, although it is far from unproblematic in a theological perspective. Th us, overall I will suggest that the 252 chapter eight visions found, and commitment scripts lived in these churches, may qualify as second languages that may produce authentic transformational commitments.

Dimension 2: Spirituality and Commitments to God

It is worth noticing that the ultimate self-transcendent reference of the ecclesial stories is relational and spiritual. Th e commitment to God grounds most other commitments, including identifi cation with the church. For this reason it might be interesting to explore the relationship between spirituality and transformational commitment.

Grace – From a Transactional to Transformational Relationship with God? I fi nd it interesting that in some of the stories that were presented above, a fundamental commitment to God was revitalised through new spiritual experiences. Here, Debbie represents an interesting case. I will suggest that her conversion, from a relationship based on works to a relationship based on grace, can also be re-interpreted as a move from a transactional to a transformational relationship with God, if one dares to view the theology of grace in light of transformational leadership theory, and vice versa. I will suggest that her story of moving ‘from religion to relationship’ may be interpreted as a transition from a relationship based on the logic of transactional exchange between human work and divine blessing, to a relationship where the favour of God depends less on her eff orts and more on God’s grace. Simultaneously, this relationship, which is based on grace, seems to provide grounds for a renewed commitment to God. A quite similar dynamic may be found in the story of Brittany, where the former image of God was linked to a sense of being ‘wrapped up in guilt’. One might suggest that these stories are relatively classic Evangelical stories about freedom from legalism and guilt, grounded by an illumina- tion of God’s grace in Jesus, however, they also add the element of a transformational vision. I will go as far as suggesting that it is not primarily gratitude for forgiveness that stands forth as the main motivational leitmotif in these stories, as assumed in some versions of Protestant spirituality, but the cause of Christ, or the church’s vision of the Th eo- drama. Yet, on the other hand, one might also ask whether the vision are transformational commitments formed? 253 could be embraced so passionately if the respondents were ‘wrapped’ up in guilt. I will therefore suggest that there is a combination of grace and vision that drives these protagonists forward towards realising the common good. At this point there is a great variety in the material. Earnest’s story is on one end of a continuum. One may ask whether Earnest’s story actually diverts from a classic Protestant pattern. His new discovery is summed up in the phrase ‘it’s not about me’. Th is might imply a sense of freedom from ‘his own works’, but it is not achieved through a ‘justifi cation by faith-plot’, he is rather empowered by the corporate achievements of the church, in the light of its vision. Nina’s story can be read as a more classical evangelical conversion story; she feared God and his wrath, but discovered through the gospel that God is a loving and forgiving father, and this discovery seems to be accompanied by new aff ections, such as joy and a desire to serve. If Nina is in the middle, Regine is on the other end of the continuum. Regine’s story seems to a larger degree to describe a transition from a sense of self-contempt to a sense of ‘self-grace’, without a larger vision. Yet both stories seem to suggest an organic connection between ‘being loved’ and ‘loving others’, rooted in a spirituality that moves towards living with God as one’s ultimate concern. Th us, overall I will suggest that there is a positive psychological-spiritual connection between a grace-based relationship to God, and a renewed ‘inspirational-aff ective’ commitment to the vision of the church, and the transformational aspects of the Christian story.

Spirituality as a Generic Element of Transformational Commitment It follows that spirituality may play an important role in terms of providing aff ections or relatively stable ‘second order emotions’ that nurture or underpin transformational commitment. Th is kind of spirituality may emerge within the context of rites, but it may also continue to play a role in a given person’s inner conversation, as in the case of Peter. Th us, what Steven Land calls spiritual aff ections are not only belief-shaped, they may also be, as Land suggests, a result of an encounter with a divine source or what Miller and Yamamori (sociologically would call an S-factor that brings about a transformational experience (Land 1993, p. 43). It is worth noticing, however, that such encounters alone do not automatically lead to ecclesial commitments, as seen in the case of Ruth. 254 chapter eight

Dimension 3: Self-Transcendent Commitments to Others and the Other

However, these spiritual aff ections may also intensify relational concerns. In chapter seven I concluded that relational qualities seem to be the most important dimension in terms of describing why people are identifying with both churches.10 Th e issue in this chapter, therefore, is not whether people commit because of such signifi cant others; the question is rather whether participation nurtures self-transcendent commitments to these others, as objects of commitment. One might question whether such commitments may qualify as transformational, since they are orientated towards concrete others rather than towards abstract conceptions of the common good. However, both churches include the idea of loving and serving others in their visionary teaching on ‘living for something larger than oneself’ (see chapter 3), and I will therefore interpret such commitments as transformational.

Family Values, Relational Virtues, and Commitment to Signifi cant Others We have seen that Mia and Tony’s new belief in the Christian meta-story ‘rescued’ their marriage. A similar story is told by Yanker. In both cases, the couples claim to have developed new relational virtues that helped them live together as a family. Peter, as we saw in chapter four, sensed a new level of responsibility towards his ex-partner, in terms of viewing this relationship as a life-long relation in the perspective of agape. Overall then, I will suggest that participation in these churches seems to inspire renewed commitment to family and signifi cant others. However, even if there seems to be a symbiosis of family and church- life on the level of life-vision, this symbiosis seems, at least in part, to be challenged on the level of life-strategy. As we saw in the case of Brittany, the time-consuming nature of caring for church-members may create a tension when it comes to how she should prioritise her time and energy in relation to her family. Th is tension seems to be even stronger for people who hold staff positions, as in the stories of Dustin and Marcus, even though it is more explicit in Marcus’ case. Th us, there is at least a latent

10 Here there was another diff erence between the churches that can be explained by demographic structure. People from Pinsekirken who were married saw ministry for their children as an important reason for participating, whereas people in London where more focused on friendships. However, both aspects were present in both churches. are transformational commitments formed? 255 confl ict between the welfare of one’s family and one’s church, even though both churches seek to fi nd ways in which church and family may be integrated and work together.

Friendliness and Hospitality Towards the Stranger We have also seen that the church may function as a ‘home away from home’, and that hospitality towards the stranger, in the sense of welcoming people home, plays an important role in several stories, and in particular in the stories of Brittany and Ruth. In the semi-qualitative material, family qualities were qualifi ed in terms of friendliness and hospitality.11 Th is sense of being cared for and welcomed was also confi rmed during my fi eldwork.

Friendship beyond Transaction – Sharing a Public Good Th ere seems to be less tension between the issue of friendship and church life. Th e key question concerns whether the practice of ‘life-sharing’ also relates to a common good beyond mutual transactional utility. Th e analyses in chapters four and fi ve seem to give affi rmative answers to this question. I will suggest that there are two elements that give these friendships a character that transcends ‘therapeutic transaction’. Th e fi rst is the commitment to God, experienced in shared forms of spirituality, and the second is shared commitments to certain ethical virtues, such as care and ‘agapic’ love, inspired by one’s basic commitment to God. Peter shares a passion for the ‘word of God’ with his spiritual parents, and Brittany and Earnest view their friendships in the light of the church’s vision. Th is inspires kindness and care for others, including strangers. Likewise, in chapter six we saw that a shared commitment to God was important for Jonathan’s perception of his relationship with his best friend. Th us overall, these relationships seem to fulfi l Bellah ’s and Aristotle ’s ‘third criterion of friendship’. Moreover, I will suggest the possibility that these friendships actually transcend the Aristotelian model of friendship. In the case of Brittany and Earnest, there is also an element of ‘dying to self’, or laying down one’s life for the other, which emanates from Hillsong’s teaching, and

11 Th is was reported by 12.7 % of the respondents in Hillsong, and 23.2% of the respondents in Copenhagen as one of their three most important reasons for identifying. 256 chapter eight refl ects Jesus’ ‘new’ commandment of loving one’s friends (John 13:34; 15:13)12. Th is kind of love (agapeo) seeks to love others unconditionally ‘into health’, rather than grounding love in the other person’s ‘good character’. It is obviously diffi cult to assess to what degree this model is practised on the level of actual life-strategy, yet the fact that Brittany and Earnest report on tensions and struggles might indicate that they are trying to implement this model in their day-to-day life.

Th e Genesis of Caring and Serving Love - A Th eoretical Elaboration Th e reports of relational qualities encountered in my material may be read as testimonies of visionary narratives that work in practice. Th is seems at least to be partly true. In Brittany’s story we saw that the church teaching played an important role in terms of inspiring ‘serving’ care. At this point, however, I will suggest that transformational participation transcends a ‘narrative application’, in at least two ways. Firstly, Peter’s story may off er a glimpse of the genesis of caring love, which points beyond the infl uence of interpretative repertoires. Peter said that one of his disappointments in relation to his daughter was that he ‘had not become the father he wanted to be’. Obviously, this reaction also has roots in the Danish culture in general, which value family highly (Gundelach et al. 2008, pp. 193–194), and in his sense of ‘social self- worth’, which is invested in fatherhood in this context, as a personal and social project. However, in the quite moving passage where he is speaking about the garden he had planted for his daughter, and in the even more critical passage when he says that he didn’t want to commit suicide because he ‘could not give her that experience of her father committing suicide’, it is not his social status, but her welfare that appears as the main concern. To understand Peter’s concern, it might be useful to approach the phenomenology of so-called proximity ethics. In a fascinating study, Arne Johan Vetlesen demonstrates that ‘dyadic proximity’ seems to have created an ethical impulse that made it very hard for SS men to perform face-to-face executions of Jewish prisoners (Vetlesen 1994, p. 202). Zyg munt Bauman , building on Vetlesen and other proximity ethicists, suggests that authentic encounters are pregnant with inter-personal

12 Following Carmichael , I will suggest that the sharp line that was drawn between agape and fi los by prominent theologians in the beginning of the twentieth century is somewhat of an exaggeration (Carmichael 2004, pp. 35–39). are transformational commitments formed? 257 commitments that ‘shoot up from nowhere’, and ‘certainly not from intention, previous intentions, or norms’ (Bauman 1995, p. 53). I will suggest that this proposal may represent a fruitful and possible perspective on Peter’s care; although it is diffi cult to validate it empirically in this kind of study. Seen from this perspective, Peter’s care was emerging out of his continual encounters ‘with her’, creating a wish to stay alive primarily for ‘her sake’.13 Th ere is also a point in Brittany’s story where she moved beyond the routine and ‘involved herself’ in ‘their life’, beyond the normative expectations of a life-group leader. It seems to emerge as a refl ective response to a relatively spontaneous form of emphatic identifi cation with the others who need to be welcomed home, standing in the position where Brittany once found herself. Th us, Peter’s and Brittany’s stories might reveal that proximity and relatively spontaneous empathy can create commitment beyond narrative expectations. Secondly, I also fi nd it interesting that both Peter and Brittany report on Spirit encounters as morally transforming experiences. Th is kind of spontaneous self-transcendence, identifi ed by proximity ethicists, may from a systematic theological perspective be understood on the level of man’s potential as a created being, since it may even appear in an SS execution platoon. However, Peter’s account of how he suddenly became ‘extremely kind’ to other people aft er becoming fi lled with the Spirit, may suggest that this human capability may be ‘evoked’ or ‘intensifi ed’ by forms of spirituality, or what Miller an Yamamori call the S-factor. Since kindness and love undisputedly are seen as ‘fruits’ of the Spirit in he Christian tradition, this kind of spirituality may be seen, at least potentially, as the soteriological presence of the Spirit, which enables people to act upon ethical impulses, and resist other and more sinful impulses. Th eologically then, experiences of new virtues may be understood as synergy between the Trinitarian God’s work as creator, and his work as saviour - through agency of the Spirit, in the context of the church. To rephrase this in the words of theologian LeRon Shults : Th is too occurs by the gracious agency of the Holy Spirit as Christ is formed in us (Gal. 4:19). As the relation to God intensifi es, the intentional- ity of believers is transformed by the sharing of the intimate love of the

13 Obviously one may debate whether there are certain biological or genetic components that produce care for one’s own off spring (and genes) might be involved in this process as well, but such a debate is beyond the scope this study. 258 chapter eight

Trinitarian life, manifested in the world as self-giving reconciliation. (Shults and Sandage 2006, p. 116). Overall, this might suggest that transformational commitments, such as love for one’s daughter, friendship, and the care for a stranger, emerge in an interplay between several variables, including a refl exive response to normative stories, inspirational imagoes and pre-linguistic moral impulses. A systematic theological description of this kind of personal transformation will also include the agency of the Spirit (through narratives, rituals, and pre-linguistic impulses). Th is may be illustrated as follows: Th is is illustrated below:

Figure 9. Sources of love as care and service

Social Relationships: Transformational, Transactional, and Functional

Th us, in my view, it is crucial to acknowledge that the social is more than individual social needs fulfi lled in transactional ‘exchange’ with others. I suggest that one misses the point if one thinks of friendship and community as individual needs that are fi lled when people meet each other. Both of these refl ections are valid refl ections on friendship, but they miss are transformational commitments formed? 259 one important point; the fact that friendship and a sense of community may carry their own dynamics of self-transcendence and relational mutuality, in terms of concern for the other person, ‘for her or his sake’. However, there are obviously also transactional concerns involved in relationships, such as the need for ‘self-worth’ and a sense of belongingness. From Jonathan’s (Hillsong), as well as from Peter’s (Pinsekirken) accounts of friendship, we saw that the conception of friendship seemed to include the two ‘transactional’ elements of Aristotle ’s model of friendship; mutual enjoyment and mutual utility. Secondly, it also seems obvious that participation in these churches fulfi l certain basic social needs, such as the need for care and affi rmation, or what McClelland (1990) summed up as ‘affi liation needs’. Th is is well documented in Brittany’s narrative of her encounter with Hillsong, and Marcus’ story demonstrates that this also takes place at staff level. Th us, people certainly also participate in these relationships based on their social needs as individuals. Th is means that relational identifi cation is a complex process where transformational and transactional concerns interact.

Identifi cation Processes: Transactional Compensation and Transformational Optimisation It may also be fruitful to note that I found at least two diff erent ways in which people identify with role models. Th e fi rst type is demonstrated in Brittany’s story. Here Bobbie Houston appeared as a powerful image at the time of her re-conversion, representing what Brittany sensed she was missing. Likewise, the friendly people Brittany met in her fi rst encounter with the Hillsong church exemplifi ed the kind of relational courage and visionary qualities that Brittany felt she was longing for. In this stage, their relational strength may have compensated for Brittany’s sense of having a low self-esteem. Th us, at this stage the process seemed to be rather transactional in character, and may be seen as a kind of ‘transfer of strength’ or compensation. It is, however, crucial to acknowledge that Brittany also identifi ed with these people as ‘growth models’ in the sense that she modelled her life aft er them. Th is contributed to her experience of social empowerment. Th is process of ‘optimisation’, in terms of achieving higher levels of social functioning and relational virtues14 within the meaning frame of the church’s vision, may be interpreted as transformational. Here

14 See Paul Baltes ’s typology in Baltes 2004, pp. 13–14. 260 chapter eight

Earnest’s narrative may be even more revealing. Earnest evidently identifi es with other ‘entrepreneurial Christians’, as well as his leaders, because he feels that he is like them, not because he lacks their characteristics. For Earnest, these models seem to represent attainable goals, or what might be called a level of ‘optimisation’, for a person who already senses that he has a high level of self-esteem, but still wants to grow. Th is is at least how Earnest portrays himself. Th us, in the latter stages of Brittany’s and Earnest’s narratives, role models seem to appear primarily as ‘transformational growth models’ rather than as objects of strength transference, even though both dimensions may be present at the same time, reinforcing both transformational and transactional identifi cation. Th is seems to confi rm Kim, Danserou, and Kim’s (2002) suggestion that transfor mational leadership appeals to people with both high and low self- esteem, even though the eff ect may vary depending on the situation.15 Finally, it must be added that some people may experience a lack of care in these churches, in the same way that Brittany previously found it diffi cult ‘to connect’ in the Anglican church in London. Pastors in both churches admitted that this also could happen in their church, and Mia reported a lack of support during diff erent stages of their marriage. Overall then, these churches are not perfect social environments. Yet, the fact that both the interviews and the semi-quantitative material provide reports of relational qualities in both churches seems to indicate that these churches, at least to some degree, can be seen as ethically functional communities that nurture self-transcendent commitments.

Dimension 4: Commitment to the Social Welfare of the Context

Th is may lead to the next question; what kind of commitments are inspired or renewed in relation to the social context?

Social Responsibility and Service in the World First, I think it might be useful to see that the churches seem to provide their participants with at least three sets of imagoes. Th e fi rst set is that

15 See Kim, Danserou, and Kim 2002. It must be noted, however, that their study is more sociological or socio-psychological orientated, and that crises in their account refer to social rather than personal processes. What is diff erent in my narrative analyses is that both mechanisms appear at diff erent points in the same commitment narrative. are transformational commitments formed? 261 of ‘a servant’, which includes the image of the person who serves the social context. In Copenhagen, Peter applies the image of service to his business relationships. You come from the point of view of serving, so I actually serve my boss, rather than work for my boss, which means I diff erentiate myself from every other person. Th e virtue of generosity, which is central to Hillsong’s teaching, also applies to face-to-face service in everyday life. Reconsider Brittany’s words: In terms of that I actually have a responsibility for the people in my world and in London, and just to be an answer to need, no matter how small or where it is. Not just doing life, not just living a kind of comfortable life that keeps me happy, keeps me content, but to actually be looking outward the whole time, which is a constant kind of dying to self-thing. A constant Gary’s been speaking loads on is generosity; just having that as your position and your stance in life. Th e second set of signifi cant theologically motivated imagoes is that of being a representative of Christ in the world. Hillsong respondents seem to be using this set more oft en, though it is also present in the material from Pinsekirken. Both Jonathan and Ingrid interpret the role of being a representative in terms of being an example for others. In the context of work, Jonathan interprets this as ‘working hard’, whereas Ingrid applies the virtue of excellence to her work by ‘wanting to do more than expected’. Overall then, this seems to confi rm that the imagoes that appear in the churches’ narratives give shape to how people understand themselves in many areas of life, including their work.

A Neo-Protestant Work Ethic? Th ese two imagoes may be seen as part of a neo-Protestant work ethic, which also may have some similarities with the Calvinist work ethic described by Max Weber16, but nevertheless represents a fairly new form

16 Max Weber suggested in his classic work on Protestantism and the spirit of capitalism that the Calvinist teaching on success (in one’s calling as businessman) as a sign of being one of the elected, provided a motivational and moral drive to early capitalism. According to Weber, this drive was stronger among Calvinists than among followers of pietism, since pietism favoured virtues that fi tted the roles of the offi cial, the clerk, the labourer, or domestic housewife (Weber 1991, pp. 138–139). Th e work ethic of the Hillsong Church defi nitively affi rms the later virtues as well, but it represents a new 262 chapter eight of thinking. Like the Calvinists, Peter, Ingrid and Jonathan work hard. Unlike the Calvinists, they believe that that all believers are elected and called to be blessed and realise their God-given potential. Th is belief and entrepreneurial self-understanding drives investments of time and money in church-growth, but it also provides the participants with trust that enables them to take risks and become entrepreneurs in the late modern market place. Th is is exemplifi ed by the stories of Earnest, Tony and Peter. It is worth noticing that although Pinsekirken’s teaching on ‘quality of life’ is somewhat diff erent from Hillsong’s teaching on success or blessing, the outcome in terms of respondents’ stories about God, life, and caring for the larger context (here the city) is quite similar. As we saw above, Nina from Copenhagen sees God as the One who wants her to succeed in life, a wording almost identical with Hillsong’s teaching. Moreover, like Earneset, Tony has started his own company. He has also stopped using sexuality in his commercials, but his company still runs well, and this is also interpreted as God’s blessing. He also considers his success as a blessing that enables him to bless others. Some Danish respondents, however, like Regine and Ruth, may represent a life-view that to a larger degree distances the spiritual from ‘worldly aff airs’, and focuses more on their inner world, but that does not mean they don’t believe that God wants them to succeed in other areas of life. As we saw in the case of Ruth, the grant she received, aft er having turned down the suggestion from her advisor (representing her union) to ‘cheat’ the government, was seen as a blessing. Th e new kind of work ethic is not driven by insecurity, or the need to prove oneself before God, as Weber suggests was the case among the Calvinists. Instead, it is based on an optimistic view of life and God that may produce a sense of trust in peoples’ inner conversations. Th e new work ethic seems to be ‘less puritan’, in the sense that it allows more consumption than was practised by the early Calvinists. Yet, it is still a worldview that expects people to work hard. In a conference, Clarke was introduced by another Australian minister with the compliment of being ‘a hard worker’. Clarke also emphasised that in order to experience blessing, you must do something or ‘give God something to work with’. entrepreneurial ‘growth plot’. Hillsong focuses on personal choice and self-development, whereas the Calvinist described by Weber believed in pre-destination. However, being a part of an infl uential church may also give people a sense of being among the chosen ones. are transformational commitments formed? 263

A Note on ‘Th e Prosperity Gospel’, Work Ethic, and the Diffi culties and Problems For this reason, one may ask if the so-called ‘prosperity gospel’ in Hillsong (teaching on blessing and success) also includes a rather ‘down to earth’ work ethic. Th us, Gordon Preece’s (2006) comparison between this kind of teaching and TV programmes like ‘Who wants to be a mil- lionaire’, misses a central point, namely that blessing is understood in terms of ‘sowing and reaping’, and not a substitute for ‘luck’. Following Stephen Hunt, Simon Coleman suggests that the prosperity gospel is underpinned by the belief that the same spiritual laws govern all spheres of existence. Health and wealth can therefore be attained by faith in God, positive confession, and faithfulness in action in accordance with the spiritual laws (Coleman 2008, pp. 188–189). Th is description may be more fi tting, yet I will suggest that Hillsong’s version of the ‘prosperity gospel’ might be regarded as a fairly commonsensical interpretation of the wisdom literature in the Old Testament and its teaching on ‘sowing and reaping’.17 From the church’s teaching that was presented in chapter three, as well as from my respondents’ stories, I will suggest that there is a description of a three-stage process in this theology. It begins with (1) a relationship based on grace, as displayed in the story of Debbie. Th is relationship inspires (2) virtuous living, according to the ‘Word’, and this is expected to lead to (3) fl ourishing, or if one likes, blessed results. Consequently, Brittany and Earnest view ‘promotions at work’ or ‘new contracts’ as blessings. Th e faith-based entrepreneur is therefore a hero who constantly moves forward to new achievements. One can also fi nd people who continue to do good even though they see no blessing ‘at the moment’. In Denmark, Nina provides health services to people who are not able to claim a refund from the state. Th is was causing her fi nancial problems at the time of my fi eldwork, but she was nevertheless continuing, viewing herself as a follower of Christ. One might also ask what people do if ‘prosperity’ doesn’t manifests itself. To this question, Gina and Susan provide an interesting answer. Th ey see

17 Th is literature is also seen by at least some Old Testament scholars as a guidebook for ‘successful living’. Th e element of ‘individualism’ that Preece identifi es may therefore be present in the Old Testament as well (see LaSor et al. 1996, pp. 458–460). Hillsong’s teaching on human fl ourishing should therefore be taken seriously as theology and not only be seen as a form of ‘New Th ought’ metaphysics. It still might be seen as one-sided in the light of the ‘later wisdom literature’ (e.g. the book of Job), but further normative refl ection is beyond the scope of this study. 264 chapter eight problems in the perspective of a spiritual confl ict, suggesting that one oft en has to go through a ‘battle’ before one reaps the blessing. In this process, they fi nd both shelter and encouragement in their new church family, who believe that God wants them to succeed in all areas of life. As we saw above, they are fi nding suffi cient support in the church, and believe in a future given by God. Th us, practical love and support seem to be more important than searching for theologically balanced answers to questions about prosperity and suff ering. It is possible to imagine that a possible tension between the prosperity gospel’s image of the Christian life, on one hand, and people’s experiences of reality, on the other, may challenge people’s faith and their commitment, but such refl ections did not appear in my material. Th e reason may obviously be that my sample consists of active participants and not people who have left the church. It is better therefore suited to understand identifi cation than separation. However, it is also worth noticing, as I pointed in chapter three, that the Hillsong’s teaching on heroic vivacity does not promise an easy-going life without struggles. Life is rather a fi ght that can be won. From a more moderate Pentecostal position, one may nevertheless question whether this approach is suffi ciently balanced and theologically adequate, but this debate has to be pursued elsewhere.

Civic Virtues – Do Th ey Emerge? Th e Interpersonal Level A key question for my purpose is whether what Bellah (2006g, p. 318) calls civic commitments emerge in these churches. Th e kind of honesty or trustworthiness that is described by both Ruth and Nina seems to be essential on the inter-personal level. I will suggest that the sum of honesty, service and generosity, or what I have described as a neo-Protestant work ethic above, may come close to the virtue that Robert Putnam calls ‘public trust’, or trustworthiness, which Weber saw as instrumental for understanding the relationship between ‘American sects’ and the American economy, in terms of making economic and moral life possible.18 Th us, at this point, transformational virtues may also provide ground for transactional functionality in the market place. Obviously,

18 Bellah 2006f, p. 343; Putnam 2001, pp. 19; 140; Gerth and Wright Mills 1991, pp. 303–308. are transformational commitments formed? 265 one can expect narratives of a less favourable character to be heavily under-communicated in the interview context. Yet, in chapter fi ve, we saw that both Peter and Ruth have made economic sacrifi ces to live by these virtues. Th us, to some degree it is viable that these churches may at least contribute to the formation of such virtues.

Th e Social Dimension As we have seen, most of my respondents also embrace the church’s vision as a vision for the world and the city, in the sense that they want to make Europe a better place (Dustin), or Copenhagen a better place to live in (Marcus). For this reason I will conclude that the visionary stories of the churches seem to inspire leaders to serve the community in which they live. Th ere is a signifi cant degree of functioning social practices in both churches. Th e culture centre seeks to contribute to the welfare of the city, by hosting a youth club and support work among drug addicts. In Hillsong London, the main focus, during my fi eldwork, was on helping orphans in Uganda, but the older and more developed mother church in Sydney also seems to both support and facilitate a variety of diff erent forms of ‘community initiatives’ and aid programmes.19 Th ese activities are important on the level of respondents as well, because, as we saw in the case of Ruth, and Tony and Mia, they give money or even ‘tithe’ to support these activities. Nevertheless, even though some of my respondents participated in and supported such activities, they did not appear as the fi rst response to questions about key responsibilities, though with the habit of giving money as a possible exception. It seems, therefore, that my respondents primarily think of social transformation as something that happens from below, through inter-personal care, work ethic, and person-to-person evangelism. Th at being said, there seems to be growing social consciousness in Hillsong’s Australian mother church, and this is also acknowledged by some of its harshest critics (see Cheng and Payne 2007).

Th e Political Dimension Likewise, when it comes to active participation in political processes, the churches seem to provide a present, but nevertheless weaker impetus.

19 Houston says: ‘We work in a whole broad spectrum of community initiatives with people with all sorts of issues: sexual abuse issues, grief, divorce. We work with the indig- enous communities in helping. We have a health centre. We have a drug and alcohol centre. We run personal development programs in schools. We work in the prisons. We do a lot of street teams.’ (see Australian Story transcript) 266 chapter eight

Political participation in terms of partisan politics did not show up in my material as one of the most important ‘responsibilities in my life’, or as a signifi cant element in my respondents’ goals and dreams for the future, nor did ‘imagoes’ of political activism show up in the material, with Peter, and British staff members as possible exceptions. Th e activities facilitated in the Culture Centre are obviously a way that Pinsekirken participates in public life and provides public refl ection on politically relevant issues, but they nevertheless consider themselves politically independent, in the sense of not being associated with or promoting one particular political party. Th e church is, however, not anti- political, it encourages political engagement by individuals; and the church does encourage its members to vote in parliament elections. Th e same combination of organisational independence and support of ‘political individuals’ appears in Hillsong. I did discuss politics with key members of the staff , and some of them told me that they had voted for the Labour party in the previous election, because they thought this party showed more social responsibility towards the ‘global south’..Th e almost ritual focus in the church services on humanitarian aid (during my fi eldwork helping orphans in Africa) seems therefore, at least to some degree, to create political consciousness. It also shows that it is misleading to see Hillsong as an Australian version of the American Christian Right, as Connell seems to suggest.20 In an interview with Australian national television, Brian Houston dismissed this idea outright: Our church is autonomous. In other words, we’re not answering to an American church. I think the religious right in the United States is actually a long way from where I would see me being. I don’t want to be like that religious right.21 A recent survey in Australia showed that fi ve out of ten churchgoers in Hillsong said they would vote for Kevin Rudd, the leader of the Australian Labour Party, whereas only four out of ten preferred the more conservative John Howard.22 Th us, the church’s participants then seem to place themselves on both sides of a Christian democratic centre, rather than on the right wing. To some degree, this seems to fi t with David Martin ’s description of Pentecostals as apolitical – at least when it comes to conventional

20 See chapter three. 21 See transcript Australian story. 22 see Carter 2007 (http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,22220165 -5005961,00.html). are transformational commitments formed? 267 political processes (Martin 1993, p. 265). Yet, the discursive nature of the Culture Centre in Copenhagen as well as the fact that Hillsong invites representatives from all major parties to participate in debates before elections, can also be seen as an impetus to participate in public life, and thus as a practice orientated towards the public good. Th e same can be said about Hillsong’s vision of training people to ‘infl uence and lead’ within every domain of life. Hence, I will suggest that politically inde- pendent23 may be a more fi tting term than apolitical when it comes to describe how these churches approach politics.

‘Political Virtues’ and Organisational Structure However, one may question whether Hillsong’s organisational structure is likely to nurture skills and virtues related to democratic decision- making on the organisational level. At this point a negative answer seems to be given by both Brittany and Earnest, who seem to prefer ‘relational peace’ and dynamic performance over democracy. It is worth noticing, however, that consultative leadership is taking place on the level of small groups, where the structure is roughly fl at, and the social game may alternate between ‘individualist’ and ‘egalitarian’ games. Moreover, participants in Hillsong also talk to their leaders, and those who demonstrate their care for the church by involvement, can ‘earn their right to speak’. Yet, overall Pinsekirken may at least potentially provide better conditions for the formation of ‘democratic virtues’, yet this church is, as we have seen, also moving towards a more centred set, and it is not clear whether or how democratic processes can function in such a church. It is also worth noticing that Peter, who has a political background and who has ‘voted against the leaders’ on several issues, also accepts charismatic authority to a larger degree in the church than he would do in society. What seems to be lacking in both churches is a more explicit commitment to ‘environmental issues’. Th ere seems to be little public refl ection on the possible tension between the idea of personal success and

23 One might ask if it is possible to be politically independent, and contribute to the common good of the larger society at the same time. Th ere seems to be a kind of ambivalence and tension in the thinking of the churches, yet this ambivalence is not an uncommon problem in the Pentecostal or the larger Christian tradition. I will suggest that the position outlined by these churches is relatively compatible with Augustine’s perspective on ‘ the mirror of princes, at least in John Milbank ’s interpretation (see Milbank 2006, p. 411–412). It is also worth noticing that a growing number of Christian thinkers seek to develop models of political participation that transcend conventional ‘partisan politics’ (see e.g. Wallis 2008). 268 chapter eight associated consumption, and questions about social and environmental ethics. It must be said, however, that my fi eldwork was undertaken before the renewal, or perhaps revival, of environmental concern that has taken place as s result of new knowledge on global warming.

Th e Ethical Janus Face of the Performance Dynamics

So far, I have suggested that transformational commitment is qualifi ed and inspired by narrative ideational identifi cation, and that both relational encounters and spirituality seem to nurture self-transcendent commitment. But what about the dynamics created by dynamic performance? Does this dynamic contribute to transformational commitment, as well? I will suggest that dynamic performance creates two types of dynamics that may add to or reinforce other forms of transformational commitments. Th e fi rst type of dynamics is primarily organisational. For people like Debbie, Earnest and Ingrid, who expect a church to be dynamic, dynamic practice seems to provide the church with a kind of strategic trustworthiness. Practices presuppose vision in order to be transformational, but the fi rst question related to strategic trustworthiness seems to be: Can the church be trusted to do what a church should be doing? If an affi rmative answer is given, trust and motivation seem to arise. Th is kind of system performance seems to be a self-generating process both on an organisational and on a more personal level, where operational trust or self-confi dence seems to generate new levels of performance. Th is second type of dynamics is known in transformational leadership theory as the ‘Pygmalion eff ect’. Bass (1985, p. 71) suggests inspirational motivation seems to have the eff ect that followers’ confi dence and expectations are raised in ways that raise performance, which in turn raises expectations and confi dence. Both forms of dynamics may in principle reinforce both unethical and ethical practices, but this means that performance dynamics may strengthen ethical motivation and ethical performance, as we saw in the case of Brittany. Th us, even though practices need stories or empathy to be transformational, performance dynamic may reinforce this kind of transformational motivation. Th is is not the whole story, however. If growth becomes an ultimate goal in itself, the identifi cation mechanism becomes more transactional. If people commit primarily because it makes them part of a success are transformational commitments formed? 269 story, or because it gives them a sense of personal growth, then commitment may become basically transactional rather than transformational. Iam not suggesting that practice performance identifi cation is immoral per se, particularly if one sees organic growth and aesthetics as part of creation. Yet, it is still insuffi cient in terms of qualifying this kind of motivation as a form of self-transcendent transformational commitment. Th ere are obvious dangers associated with practice performance identifi cation, and the idea that ‘everything healthy grows’. When growth is introduced as a criterion of a true church, effi ciency and beauty may suppress other and more substantial ethical and theological validation criteria, as manifested in the utilitarian maxim: ‘You can’t argue against success’. As Habermas (1987) points out, in the late modern world systemic concerns may repress ethical concerns. Th is might happen if the growth motive in Acts, which is so important for Earnest, becomes the main criterion for a comparison between Hillsong and other churches. From this position, there is always the danger of becoming blind to the fact that immoral organisations with pseudo-transformational stories may also produce growth, effi ciency, and impressive aesthetics.24 Finally, one should also maintain that system dynamics is an unstable ally for transformational leadership. If people are attracted to growing churches primarily because they are the fastest growing of their kind, the authority of the pastor is basically transformed into that of a managerial expert status, facilitating numerical growth. It is worth noticing that people who join for these reasons do not join only because of success in the past, they also join based on the expectation that the growth will continue in the future. Th ey may, however, also leave if a better prospect shows up. It may follow that the logic of growth dynamics, or the maxim that ‘success breeds success’, at least in part, is comparable with the logic of fi nancial bubbles in the stock market, or what Sørhaug calls ‘authority bubbles’.25 It may be true that ‘success breeds success’, but it is equally true that ‘authority bubbles’ are in constant danger of being overcome by competing and potentially more successful ‘trends’.

24 Th e most obvious example is the Germany under Hitler (see also Bass 1985, p. 20), which demonstrated brilliant system performance in the 1930s, with devastating consequences for the world less than a decade later. As Bauman argued in Modernity and Holocaust, the ‘effi ciency’ of this disaster was a direct result of the eff ective bureaucratic performance (Bauman 1989). Th us, effi cacy may have only a perverse beauty, if practices are led according to perverted criteria. 25 For charisma and authority bubbles, see Sørhaug 2004, pp. 266–269. 270 chapter eight

Transactional and Transformational Processes – Synergies and Tensions

As I noted in my analysis of relational identifi cation, the wide range of transformational commitments found in the material does not exclude transactional processes. To the contrary, all of the stories presented in depth in chapters four and fi ve entail transactional exchange motives, Earnest is an obvious example. Th e Acts 2 plot is evidently a central transformational plot in his story, but there are several transactional motives, as well. Th ese include the joy of new friendships, the sense of being part of a relevant and successful church, and simply a new experience of enjoying life. Even identifi cation with teaching and theology is not necessarily a ‘pure’ transformational commitment, since the churches teaching also is employed as self-help literature. Th e way these churches provide concrete and ‘relevant’ answers to everyday problems through their teaching can be seen as a transactional process, in the sense that the teaching meets individuals’ needs. One might ask whether the story of Dustin represents an exception. His apparently radical willingness to sacrifi ce personal gains and needs for the good of the organisation deviates from the tendency towards synergy between the transformational and transactional processes. How one answers this question depends on how one conceptualises the transactional and transformational dimensions (see the theoretical prologue above). It is possible to interpret his accounts of being called and elected, and being part of something infl uential and successful, as a process of exchange; where he gives his time and energy in exchange for psychological goods, such as a sense of having signifi cance and power (Burns 1978, p. 19). Yet, on the other hand, since the ‘power motive’ at hand in this story is qualifi ed as the cause of Christ, and his new self-concept is relationally interwoven with the church and its cause, Dustin’s ‘power motive’ might still be read as transformational and self-transcendent.

Transactional and Transformational Processes: Personal Sacrifi ces as a Recurring Th eme Th e stories presented in chapters four and fi ve also demonstrate that the relationship between the transformational and transactional dimensions can be one of tension, or even confl ict. Th e most obvious example is Marcus’ story. He ponders whether his work in this particular church is the best way to live out his calling. Yet his refl ections on his many sacrifi ces for the organisation, his battles, his use of time, his family situation, are transformational commitments formed? 271 and lack of fi nancial means also trigger what might be called transactional refl ections on ‘getting more out of his life’, which in turn trigger doubts and ambivalence. Th e tension seems to be relatively weaker in the cases of Ruth and Peter, and particularly in the case of Ruth, who mainly has a loose attachment to the church’s small groups, and therefore sacrifi ces less for the organisation. Th e contrast between Ruth’s and Marcus’ stories might indicate that the deeper one is involved in the organisation, the deeper is the tension between transformational and transactional commitments.

Callings and the Idea of ‘Dying to Self’ Again one might ask whether the story of Dustin contradicts this hypothesis, but this is not necessarily the case. Dustin senses that he is ‘living his dream’, and a high level of transformational commitment and enthusiasm might suppress or outbalance transactional tensions. I will suggest that this form of psychological equilibrium is vulnerable to changes or unexpected social confl icts, which may cause psychological confl icts to surface. Th e element of sacrifi ce for a greater cause is present in both churches, most explicitly in Hillsong’s teaching on ‘dying to the self for the Cause of Christ’, and in the stories of callings found in Pinsekirken. Th e element of sacrifi ce might, however, be interpreted diff erently from diff erent horizons. Earnest connects meaning to sacrifi ce, suggesting that there is ‘no meaning’ if there is no sacrifi ce. Rational choice theorists, like Starke and Finke (2000), suggest that comments like this imply that the value of a religious commitment is determined by the degree of strictness and sacrifi ce (see also Kelley 1977). In this perspective even sacrifi ces can be seen as a transactional process. I will suggest, however, that this refl ection catches only a part of the dynamic of meaning. In the previous chapter we also saw that the semi- quantitative survey may indicate that people tend to think more oft en on the objects of their commitment than their subjective eff ects. From several narratives, including the stories of Tony, Mia, Dustin and Earnest, it is also evident that the content of the vision for which one makes sacrifi ces matters. Th e biblical story is seen as ontologically true, and the cause of the church is therefore seen as objectively worthy of self- transcendent sacrifi ces, beyond merely being subjectively meaningful. Th e same may apply to relational commitment, as we saw in the analyses of Peter’s and Brittany’s narratives in chapters four and fi ve. It is diffi cult 272 chapter eight to see Brittany’s care for new people only as a form of rational self- maximising. Like Peter who cares for his daughter, Brittany cares for the other for, for their sake of the other. Th us, both these kind of commitments, as well as commitments to ultimate concerns, may be seen as expression of what or whom we care about, not primarily serving as means to something else.26 It follows that whilst Earnest, Brittany and others ‘die to themselves’ to live for the cause of Christ, they are also driven by a self-transcendent love for the ‘object’ or the other; whether this is the common good of an Acts 2 church, or an actual person. It is worth noticing, however, that dying to self in these churches does not mean ‘cutting off ’ one’s individuality. Th is individuality and the individual needs are rather integrated, or incorporated into an ecclesiological model of life, which defi nes God’s Kingdom as the important priority.

Summing Up – Holistic Sets of Transformational Commitments

In this chapter I have identifi ed several types of transformational processes and transformational commitments. Transformational commitment in these churches is qualifi ed by, and orientated towards, common goods that are defi ned by the biblical story. Both churches share some of the key ecclesial assumption of the Pentecostal and the Free Church tradition. Th ey are spiritualistic communitarians, in the sense that they believe that to enter the church is to enter a pre-existing pneumatic fellowship, with a corporate calling to serve God’s kingdom. Th is Free Church ecclesiology has been defi ned as an authentic, yet incomplete second language that may nurture authentic transformational commitments. I have suggested that both churches, and in particular Hillsong, off er ecclesial models of life. Th e analysis has also demonstrated that the genesis of self-transcendent commitments may be very complex processes that include several ideational, practice-dynamical and relational variables that also may be related to spirituality. It is worth noticing, however, that all respondents combine transactional and transformational ways of being in the world. Even commitments to the churches’ vision and story may be seen as a fusion of transformational and transactional motives.

26 Obviously, a more extensive philosophical debate must be concluded elsewhere. A critical realist position is outlined by Archer (2000, p. 51–85). For an interesting but brief contribution, see Archer 2004a, pp. 64–66. are transformational commitments formed? 273

In both churches people commit to relatively holistic sets of transformational commitments, in the sense that they combine commitments to God, the church, to oneself and one’s family, and to the social context. Th e churches, and most participants, see evangelism as their main task in the world. However, the participants also seek to contribute to the social welfare of their context, through their everyday life on a micro- sociological level, as well as through supporting or engaging in diff erent forms of social activism, in particular humanitarian aid. Th e churches see themselves as politically independent, but nevertheless they encourage public political refl ection. What seem to be lacking in both churches are more explicit public refl ections on environmental issues. chapter nine

TOWARDS A TYPOLOGY OF ECCLESIAL LIFE STRATEGIES

Th e purpose of this chapter is to provide a concluding typology of ecclesial life strategies. I will begin however, by sketching the context of these life strategies, the structure of what I will call the ‘centred’ late modern Free Church. I will then analyse how people identify with these churches, before I move on to a typology of transformational ecclesial life strategies.

Organisational Structures and Organisational Transformation

At the surface, there is an obvious diff erence between the churches, in terms of organisational structure. In Hillsong, organisational design is primarily assigned to the founding senior pastor. However, as soon as the board of elders is constituted and elected by the pastor, it may infl u- ence how the pastor designs the rest of the organisation. In Pinsekirken, there is a superstructure that entails both a democratically chosen board of elders, and a church meeting, which functions as a general assembly, at least in matters of fi nance and staff employment. Th e senior pastor has room to give shape to the church’s operative structure, in terms of creating teams, departments, and appointing leaders, but he is more limited by tradition, as well as democratic processes, compared with Hillsong.

Late Modernity and the Diffi culties of Maintaining a ‘Pure’ Church However, from developments in Pinsekirken, one may ask whether there also are important similarities when it comes to the actual structures of the churches. As I presented in chapter three, in the fi nal week of my fi eldwork, I was invited to participate in a discussion in the pastoral team. Th is debate could be considered somewhat revolutionary, since it questioned the classical criterion of church membership set by the Pen- tecostal tradition. Th e staff considered implementing a model where only the highest level of leaders needed to be baptised by immersion. Th is group of leaders would then represent a centre around which diff erent levels of membership and participation could be defi ned. In this new 276 chapter nine model, participating in teams and giving off erings might be given more weight than baptism, in terms of defi ning a person’s level of membership. Yet, all members would be expected to accept that the church is going to teach its classic Pentecostal views on baptism and baptism in the Spirit. From an analytical perspective, one might suggest that Pinsekirken in many respects already had moved signifi cantly towards becoming what Paul Hiebert defi nes as a centred set. At least four reasons can be presented in support of this proposal. Firstly, to defi ne the church as the church in the Culture Centre is literally to place the church in a centre with a periphery that is signifi cantly more open. Secondly, within this centre the church also recruits mid-level leaders of the type that I called ‘eclectic ecumenicists’ in chapter three. Th irdly, the ‘farewell to absolut- ism regarding alcohol’ and the new openness to culture may indicate that many unwritten obligations identifi ed in earlier Pentecostalism are instead replaced by a few key values. Finally, and more importantly, the church not longer defi nes itself primarily by its borders, in terms of the doctrines and practices that make it diff erent from other churches, but rather in terms of its vision statements, and image of life transformation.1 In all these respects then, the church in practice might move away from the inside-out criterion that defi nes a bounded set, towards a centred set that is defi ned by its centre. To defi ne this centre more formally, in terms of some key leaders and the pastor, would therefore complete rather than begin a process. Hillsong is, nevertheless, the most typical centred organisation of the two, particularly in terms of social organisation. It is the pastor and some key leaders who function as the social centre to which all other participants relate.

Th e Centred Free Church – a Combination of Hierarchy and Egalitarianism Sherwood Lingernfelter’s categories may be useful to develop a further understanding of centred sets. I will also propose that Hillsong chiefl y combines two diff erent social structures. It consists of a centre and of

1 It places itself in the wider tradition as ‘a church among many’, believing that ‘diversity enriches both the individual church and the relationship between various churches’ (LFE, p. 61). Instead it defi nes itself by the presentation of its vision, values, and core beliefs and practices. towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 277

‘outer networks’. Th e social game in the centre involves defi ned statuses, the most important being that of the senior pastor. Th is structure also involves material resources, since Dustin also may refer to his job as something Gary ‘pays me to do’. Th ese statuses inspire a form of continuance commitment based on material resources, and may also account for some of the group dimension, but it is probably more important that people in the centre interact oft en, including visiting each other’s homes, in a way that merges work and life. Th us, the centre combines a high grid, at least compared with Pinsekirken, and a relatively strong group dimension. It may therefore be assessed as hierarchical, in Lingenfelter ’s terms, or by what in chapter three I called a ‘proto-hierarchy’, since it is more like a family than a heavily developed bureaucracy. We have also seen that in the surrounding networks leaders are defi ned as ‘hosts’ rather than leaders. Th is defi nition of statuses, as well as the relational qualities described above, might indicate that most people seem to participate in social games with quite ‘low grid’, outside of the centre. It is more diffi cult to assess whether the social game that takes place in ‘life’ or ‘connect’ groups should be understood as individualist (weak group), or as egalitarian (strong group). Th is game is, at least formally, individualistic since people can leave at any time, at will. On the other hand, the metaphors of home and family, the strong sense of community that appears to follow from frequent interaction, and the relational qualities that has been described may imply that this individualistic game may develop towards a more egalitarian game where relationships are valued highly, based on aff ective identifi cation.2 Th is ideal type of a ‘centred organisation’ that combines structural hierarchy and structural individualism seems to have a certain affi nity with Donald Miller ’s (1999, pp. 153–155) description of ‘New Paradigm churches’, which he also labels ‘post-modern sects’. I suggest, like Miller, that these organisations are fl exible and network-based, outside of the centre. However, unlike Miller’s analysis of Vineyard and Hope, I fi nd Hillsong in practice to be a relatively centralised organisation. Miller is

2 Th is understanding of the group concept follows Lingenfelter 1998. I will suggest that group identifi cation can be relatively high in a voluntary group, even though ‘group control’ in terms of power, as Mary Douglas initially defi ned the group dimension, can be relatively low. Obviously, aff ective identifi cation may provide ground for control in terms of social group pressure, but in my view, it is basically a volitional form of communitarian life that may develop in diff erent forms. If it becomes controlling at the expense of refl ective space, it changes character towards another form of aff ective commitment, which is more ambivalent and complex. 278 chapter nine partly right when he describes these organisations as decentralised, since the small groups serve many functions in the lives of the participants. Yet, in terms of the modus operandi of leadership, I will suggest, based on my fi ndings in the previous chapters, that organisational integration depends on the visionary and ritual-spiritual leadership to create suffi cient trust and volitional commitment. As such, the organisation becomes what Th omas Mathiesen (1997) calls a synoptic society, which is an organisation that depends on to what degree the ‘many watches the few’. Overall, I will suggest that this means that the late modern centred Free Church is quite diff erent from ‘sects’ described in classic sociological typologies. Sects, at least in the way Bellah defi nes them, can be considered egalitarian games, integrated by clear defi nitions of insiders and outsiders.3 Such communities are, however, as we have seen, under pressure to become more centred. In Australia, pragmatic leaders, and theological and cultural pluralism among participants, have driven a change towards more centred ecclesial organisations during the last thirty years (Clift on 2005).4 In Pinsekirken, new converts may have been transformed by tradition, but their presence and actions also created pressure on the traditional structure. Th is seems to suggest that the late modern context favours centred rather than bounded sets.

3 In my view, such organisations may appear in both ‘good’ and ‘bad’ versions. In a worst-case scenario, with strong social control, ‘sects’ may develop in a decentral- isedversion of what Bentham called the Panopticon, the prison that Foucault used as a hermeneutical key to understanding modern forms of power (Foucault 1979). How- ever, at their best, Free Churches may create reciprocal relationships and democratic participation. 4 Shane Clift on (2005) identifi es at least three crucial variables that have played an important role in the transition from more classic congregationalism to more pastor-led churches in the Australian Assemblies of God. Th e fi rst is AAG’s rejection of fundamentalist dogmatism in the 1970s and 80s, which has both enriched and diversifi ed the movement in the aft ermath of the global charismatic movement. Secondly, the radical social changes that have taken place in Australian society have ‘forced’ churches to rein- vent their ‘way of being the church’, and pastor-led churches like Hillsong seemed to be more able to adapt culturally and change in ‘relevant ways’ than their congregational counterparts. Th is made them more attractive to late modern Australians in a way that resulted in numerical church growth. Finally, the denominational drive towards church growth might be seen as a third force of its own, meaning that growing churches, like Hillsong, that modelled the new structure, were seen as role models by other churches (see Clift on 2005, p. 217). Th is study may add at least one other variable relevant to this development, from the perspective of the participants. In their own way, both Earnest and Brittany seem to prefer hierarchical functionality over congregational democracy. Earnest sees the hierarchy as ‘useful’ in terms of providing performance dynamics and growth, whereas Brittany wants to avoid unnecessary and painful confl icts (‘nightmares’) in church life. towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 279

Th e Centred Free Church: An Orthodox or Traditional Castle? I will suggest that a centred church, which provides more formal theological power to the centre, has more ‘freedom’ to maintain what Kelley (1977) calls strict and traditional positions that are highly controversial in the late modern context, and at the same time off er its members the privilege of refl ective space on such matters. Th is can be seen as a strategy for presenting the Christian horizon narrative, or at least a traditional interpretation of it, in competition with other horizon narratives. If one borrows an image from confl ict sociology, one might suggest that the centre of the late modern Free Church, to some degree, could be considered ‘a castle’ of Free Church orthodoxy. Like medieval castles (that are placed on a hill), they have a centre with clear boundaries, a defi ned hierarchy, and some key beliefs, grounded in tradition, that are presented as non-negotiable. Yet, they also have a (more fl at) surrounding territory or ‘close periphery’ that provides a more open and fl exible space for psychological movement, or even a re-moulding of the landscape of the soul. Th is fl exible structure allows several forms of fl exible leadership. Th is may be illustrated by Gary Clarke’s story (told in one of his sermons) about his encounter with a homosexual friend.5 He said, ‘I will introduce you to Jesus, and then Jesus and you can talk about sexuality’. Likewise, Bobbie Houston gives the following description of how she counselled a ‘gorgeous’ young convert who approached her aft er a meeting, saying: ‘I liked everything you said, but I’m gay and I don’t think there is anything wrong with that’. As we sat on the steps, I took a deep breath, smiled, and thought to myself, ‘Th ere is no way I am going to legislate a new life style on this young man, who is only minutes old in God’. So I grabbed his hand and said: ‘Do you know what? You have just met God – how amazing is that?… Right now, if you want it, a whole new world has opened up, and you have a chance to open up to God’s word, and talk to him and discover for yourself the son you really are.’ (Houston 2001, p. 146) Th e invitation to ‘discover for yourself’ might indicate that outside of the centre, personal journeys may be allowed that include a long state of ‘liminality’, in the sense of people being between or outside of established forms of social order, including the ethics of the tradition. In other words, people may have the privilege of belonging to a ‘strict centre’, without having to conform in all matters at any given time.

5 Based on fi eld notes. 280 chapter nine

Likewise, the leaders in the centre may allow processes to take place outside of the centre, that otherwise could be threatening to social integration in the centre. As we have seen, this is also the way Pinsekirken deals with the growing number of ‘eclectic’ participants. Th e new informal structure may allow some ‘eclectic converts’ and eclectic ecumenicists to live in a state of liminality, whereas others, like Regine and Ruth, may be transformed slowly by teaching and imagoes from the centre, through signifi cant others in the small groups. At this point it is important to notice that the smaller egalitarian games in the surrounding ‘close periphery’ do not carry the responsibility of outlining or mediating the church’s teaching, as the church meeting in an egalitarian church would have to do. Th e late modern centred6 Free Church may be illustrated as in the fi gure below:

Figure 10. Th e centred late modern Free Church

6 Paul Hiebert (1994) makes a distinction between bounded sets and centred sets, relevant to how one defi nes and classifi es the group dimension in Lingenfelter ’s typology. In bounded sets, a category is created by listing the essential characteristics an object must have to belong to the set. Th e category is defi ned by clear boundaries and objects that are uniform and relatively static in their characteristics. Bounded set churches are voluntary associations of people who share common characteristics. Th ey can be entered only by means of conversion to several non-negotiable holiness characteristics. Finally, Hiebert suggests that such churches would take a democratic approach to church membership (Hiebert 1994, pp. 111–116). Overall then, this type has several similarities with the group dimension that was described above. Centred sets are not focused on who objects are, but on their relationships with a reference point. It is possible nevertheless to make a distinction between objects who are related to the centre or moving toward it, and those who are not. Centred set churches focus on a covenantal relationship with the centre – Jesus Christ. For this reason there is also a diff erence between those who move towards him and those who do not, but the church is more open to and more tolerant of diff erences in characteristics than bounded set churches, and more tolerant of people who are struggling. Yet, this will have consequences for its organisation. A number of levels of participation might be recognised, and everyone’s voice will be heard. towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 281

In chapter two, I introduced Paul Heelas and Linda Woodhead’s (2005) suggestion that charismatic Christianity may be seen as an experiential religion of diff erence, which merges strict biblical beliefs with experiences of inner restoration. My fi ndings above might add a social dimension to this combination, implying that the centre is more strict, while the close periphery is more inclusive of relational individualism, or communalism that may considered imperative in terms of nurturing inner restoration. On the whole, inner restoration may nevertheless be seen as the fruit of this combination, rather than emerging merely from the close periphery.

Hillsong as a Partly Trans-Local Church Modern technology also creates conditions for trans-local churches. Hillsong London may serve as an example of a social unit that to a large degree transcends local geography. Its symbols, teaching and music are distributed through a number of media, including books, satellite television, and diff erent Internet resources. To some degree, it is a dissembled or trans-local church in geographical terms. Simon Coleman (2008) suggests that Charismatic Christians develop trans-local identities. Common to prosperity churches, according to Coleman, is the desire to articulate a sense of religious affi liation that both acknowledges and transcends immediate locality. Th e same applies to its participants; they belong to a local congregation, but at the same time they are ‘conference people’, participators in a global landscape of international networks of churches, satellite TV stations, and famous international preachers. Th us, their identity is also orientated towards the global, and towards Christians’ versions of what Anthony Giddens (1990) calls ‘disembedded’ symbolic tokens and expert systems. However, to see Hillsong primarily as a dissembled symbol system would be, in my view, to make a mistake. For most of my respondents, and for the staff in London, there is one defi ning geographical power centre in Sydney, and more importantly, the experience of relational qualities, which is so important in terms of identifi cation, relies heavily on face-to-face relations in the local context. What is the case, however, is that the centre in Sydney can create multiple forms of subordinate

Th e church will be led by a group of elders or leaders, which holds and possibly exemplifi es the church’s core-beliefs. Th is structure may be ‘hard at the centre but soft at the edges’ (Hiebert 1994, pp. 127–130). 282 chapter nine centres as in a feudal system, without relying on them. Due to a degree of ‘disembeddedness’, the centre may also infl uence multiple peripheries far from the local centre, and as such it is even more ‘multi-peripheral’ than multi-centred. Th us, in addition to close relationships, it may also create a lot of loose connections.

Th e Shadow Side of the Centred Set – Th e Possibility of Spiritual Shopping At this point it might be worth asking whether the centred Free Church also has a shadow side. If one accepts Bellah’s proposition that authentic communities also have good and adequate procedures for shared decision-making, the centred set may be seen as problematic, since it does not off er ways in which the whole community takes responsibility for leading itself forward. We have seen that Brittany and Earnest are not necessarily interested in democracy, as long as the church functions. As we saw in chapter fi ve, Earnest considers the hierarchy ‘useful’, and Brittany wants to avoid emotionally painful confl icts. We may therefore ask, with Bauman , if the post-panoptic (synoptic) structures of organisations in liquid modernity may be ‘the end of mutual engagement’. Against this, one might object and suggest that people still can ‘vote’ with their feet and their wallet. Th is is indeed correct. Participants in Hillsong have the power of withdrawal in terms of presence and fi nancial support, but this form of power has more affi nity with the power of the consumer than the power of the responsible citizen. Th us, it bears the late modern characteristics of what Bauman calls ‘the power of escape, elusion, and avoidance’ (Bauman 2001, pp. 11 ff .). In relation to the classic congregationalism, it replaces mutual dialogue with ‘market feedback’. Th us, if one wants to centre one’s story about Hillsong or similar Free Churches on this point, one could also employ market and consumer metaphors, and see the church as another shop on Oxford Street. One may assume that most tourists on Oxford Street have no active wish to enter the General Assembly of Nike or McDonalds, in order to take corporate responsibility for the future of these fi rms. As long as these companies deliver attractive products, the customers are pleased, but this is in no way near the enterprise of building an authentic community. Customers can, to paraphrase Peter, ‘share a lifestyle’, but not develop an authentic communal life, based on transformational commitments. One therefore cannot rule out that people actually approach Hillsong in the way Koiba suggests, with shallow consumer-orientated commitment. towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 283

Th is is, however, not the whole story. As we have seen, most of my respondents do care for what they see as God’s house and their spiritual home and family, and this in turn leads them to get involved with ministries and life-groups. It is important to recognise that most participants spend much time in ministry teams or life groups, and that within this context they have many opportunities for mutual engagement in terms of dialogue, mutual engagement, and communal decisionmaking.

Flexible Commitment Structures and Flexi-Orthodoxy In relation to the problem discussed in this chapter, it is important that the centred set also allows for a more fl exible commitment structure than the bounded set. Th is is manifest in the ‘stage-model’ of commitment that was presented in chapter three, but is also manifest in the new tolerance that late modern Free Churches have for people with loose connections. Th is implies that the question about commitment is not any longer an ‘either/or question’, it is more a question of where people are located on a continuum from a loose connection, where one enjoys visiting relatively oft en, to deep involvement, where church has become one’s life. Th is allows most of my respondents who are located outside of the centre, to employ a life strategy that I will call fl exi-orthodoxy. Unlike the type of commitment that Bellah calls ‘fl exidoxy’, fl exi-orthodoxy is not motivated solely by transactional motives orientated towards one’s own needs. Th e centre provides an ultimate concerns beyond one’s self- interest, it inspires commitment to God, to others, to the church and its teaching. Yet the fl exible structure of the church allows individuals to manoeuvre by choice in a continuum of commitments and corresponding self-identities. Th is is manifested to some degree in the stage-models of commitment that the churches present. I will nevertheless suggest that participants also may move back and forth between ‘fl exi-doxy’, and eclectic ecumenism, on the one hand, and devotion to the church’s version of orthodoxy, orthopathy and orth- opraxis, on the other. One might even argue that some space for fl exi- commitment can be established as a form of ambivalence in one’s inner conversation. Th is is at least a plausible interpretation of Marcus’ story. All the ecclesial life strategies that are presented below do therefore also appear in a more individualistic version. It follows that the typology that will be presented below needs to be understood within its local social context, as a centred set. 284 chapter nine

Th e Process of Commitment and Modes of Identifi cation

Pre-Stage and Context: Initiating Concerns and Preferences I will suggest that the process of identifi cation can be divided roughly into three stages. However, what happens in these stages is conditioned by what I will call the pre-stage, or background of each participant. All people encounter late modern churches with an interpretative horizon. Th is horizon is in part cultural, in the sense that it depends on shared interpretative repertoires. However, a more personal horizon is also present as people encounter churches. Th is includes memories and concerns, but also an overarching plot, giving structure to the unique biography of each person. In the case of Ruth, this was made up by experiences of a troubled family, an unexpected, spiritual encounter with something she could only partly comprehend, and her experience of the ‘dark claw’. At the time she encountered Pinsekirken, two relatively conventional conversion plots emerged; that of fi nding a family she had lost (homecoming), and that of being delivered from destructive powers (deliverance). Ruth’s creative use of baptism as a means of deliverance from the ‘claw’ is, in my view, a valid example that such a plotline may instigate creative and quite unique actions based on a personal interpretative horizon. Experiences of being called also combine a shared repertoire with a unique personal plot and some passionate concerns that give shape to how people like Marcus approached their churches for the fi rst time.

Intuitive Identifi cation So far I have described peoples’ interpretative horizon in terms of conscious concerns. However, several respondents employed intuitive language when they described their fi rst encounter with the organisation; using terms like ‘a sense of home’, ‘it felt right’, ‘felt in my heart’, or ‘this is it’. I will suggest that it may be helpful to think about the relationship between intuitive and deliberative identifi cation both as a linear process that is moving from ‘immediate’ and pre-refl ective intuitions towards deliberative commitment, and as a constant ‘parallel process’ that accompanies and comments on a more discursive deliberative level. Th is also implies that a given person’s intuitive preferences, shaped by their eff ective history, continue to play a role in the next stages, although interaction in these stages obviously may transform these intuitions. Th e nature of intuitive identifi cation is very complex, but for my purpose it is suffi cient to make two points. Firstly, intuitive identifi cation is towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 285 likely to be bodily grounded and situated in sub-semi conscious levels of our being.7 Secondly, I will suggest that intuitive identifi cation may take all the forms of identifi cation that were described in the previous chapter. Th is includes the human capacity of having an intuitive sense of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ that has been interpreted diff erently in various traditions.8 In a theological perspective, I fi nd it interesting that the koine-greek word syneidesis, which normally is translated as ‘conscience’, literally means ‘knowing with’. Th e problem is, as Ivar Asheim observes, to ‘know with whom or what?’ (Asheim 1994, p. 202). In this empirical study,9 I fi nd it fruitful to begin from a minimalist defi nition. Syneidesis then could be defi ned as: ‘knowing intuitively with one’s ethical values’, or as ‘having a sense of being in congruence10 with one’s moral intuitions’.

Initiating Personal Concerns – Crises and Callings Of the six stories that were described in chapters four and fi ve, fi ve included an element of a crisis, which led the protagonist to seek a church, or at least infl uenced the way they responded to an invitation. Peter and Ruth converted, or were met by God, in the midst of a crisis. Brittany’s crisis led to a re-conversion, or re-dedication, whereas Earnest and Marcus sought their churches because of diff erent forms of existential crises. Th e element of a crisis is unsurprising, in relation to conversion research. Crises are a key element in Rambo ’s (1993) seven-stage model. Th e question then is rather what kind of crisis is most common among my respondents. As we saw in the last chapter, in the analysis of redemptive sub-plots, most of these crises had the character of life crises emerging from alcoholism, sickness, and loneliness, leading people into

7 Margaret Archer and Anthony Giddens prefer to call this level the ‘practical consciousness’ (Archer 2000, Giddens 1991), although they understand it slightly diff erently. Th is semi-conscious stratum of the personality carries habitual skills that give both a ‘feel for practices’ and an intuitive ability to discern between good and bad aesthetics and performance. At this point I will add that a researcher trained in psycho-dynamic theory may have made this study hermeneutically richer, in terms of identifying other subconscious drives that may interact with cognition (see Epstein 1994) to motivate church attendance. Such an analysis is however beyond the scope of this project, and the competence of this researcher. 8 Conscience has been interpreted as a principle or ‘moral voice’ imparted by God, or as the voice of reason, or as special moral sense, see Foot 1995, p. 152. 9 On a normative level, I agree with Asheim, who suggests that a proper theological perspective must transcend a purely individualistic answer, see Asheim 1994, pp. 193–214. 10 Value congruence may be imperative, in terms of maintaining integration, see Sheldon and Kasser 1995; Emmons 1999. 286 chapter nine an existential crisis, rather than beginning as ‘a pure search for God’. Another variable, which also may lead people to seek a given church, or respond positively to an invitation, is a ‘sense of calling’. In the story of Marcus, we saw that both a crisis and a calling were present in his pre- stage to engage with Pinsekirken. Overall then, the pre-stage may be illustrated as follows.

Stage One: Encounter, Friendly Interaction and Inner Conversation

It is also important to notice that there is a second group of informants, such as Linda, Tony, Dustin, Gina and Susan, who did not seek the church in a crisis situation, and Jonathan, who grew up in Hillsong. Most of these respondents fi rst encountered the organisation through a friend or relative, who then served as a kind of advocate for the church. Th us, in many cases, relational quality identifi cation may begin before a conversion or an act of commitment, in the sense that respondents started to identify with ‘church people’, before they identifi ed with the church as an organisation. However, this is not the case in all stories. Nina, and in part Peter, are exceptions, possibly also Mia and Tony, although their Nigerian friend was instrumental in introducing them to Christianity. I will suggest that none of my respondents rely solely on their intuition when it comes to organisational identifi cation. As one of my slightly more critical respondents from London chose to phrase it when he was commenting on the Hillsong service:

Oft en people are deceived into signing their life away in a fl ood of emotions created by music, lighting and beautiful words. Most of my respondents seem, at least to some degree, to refl ect critically upon such fi rst order emotions in relation to organisational participation. However, in chapters four and fi ve I have tried to show that people may use diff erent modes of refl ection to come to such conclusions. What I so far have called the individual or autonomous modes of identifying also seem to entail a preference for a signifi cant degree of critical or refl exive space towards the organisation. Here Peter may be a good example. He refl ected on Pinsekirken for quite a while before he chose to interact one-on-one with people, and then later become a member. In this period he actively created refl ective space where he could maintain his inner conversation, and then refl ect on the organisation. Brittany, on the other hand, prefers a far more cooperative way of concluding her towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 287 inner conversation. We saw that this happens most likely in a communicative mode of identifying, in proximity to similar or signifi cant others. I will suggest that these modes of identifying, as well as relational qualities, are crucial in the fi rst stage that I have called the encounter and interaction phase.

Margaret Archer ’s Typology of Life Strategies and Modes of the Inner Conversation Recently, Margaret Archer (2003, 2007) presented a typology of life strategies or ‘life modes’, focusing on how social contexts and personal concerns infl uence and give shape to modes of inner conversations. Th is typology can be viewed as an important supplement to Bellah’s model, which primarily focuses on languages and their infl uence on ‘modes of selfh ood’. Archer’s typology is developed out of empirical material from Britain, and is thus highly relevant to my project. It presents three modes of refl exivity that will be outlined in the following, as well as a fourth type of respondents called fractured refl exives, characterised by their inability to establish an overall life strategy.

Autonomous Refl exives Th e most individualistic life strategy in Archer ’s typology is the autonomous refl exive. Autonomous refl exives lead themselves through a relatively independent form of inner conversation. In terms of concerns, they are primarily orientated towards practical achievements in the context of work and career. Autonomous refl exives are also ‘compatible’ with entrepreneurial capitalism, because they are concerned about self- reliance, and master instrumental thinking to the degree that they become ‘good strategists who succeeds in terms of upward social mobility’. Th is also means contextual discontinuity in relation to similar and familiar others. Overall, I will suggest that this type has a striking affi nity with Bellah ’s ‘utilitarian individualist’, in terms of value orientation. However, Archer shows more clearly that this orientation is a result of more than cultural languages and social systems. At least some of these protagonists have been actively concerned about practical achievement from an early age, and have then experienced and actively maintained some kind of contextual discontinuity in relation to other ‘similar’ and ‘familiar’ others (e.g. divorce). Th us, individualism arises from context and concerns as much as from language and ‘systems’ (Archer 2007, ch. 5). I will suggest 288 chapter nine that these typologies may supplement each other in terms of describing entrepreneurial forms of individualism.

Meta-Refl exives Meta-refl exives are those who most oft en think about their thinking, also in a self-critical sense, because they are committed to what Archer calls ‘value rationality’. Th is form of rationality seeks toward, and acts out of identifi cation with, ethical goods that are valued as fi nal ends in themselves, and not for their instrumental utility. Meta-refl exives are committed to value rational ends, to the degree that it becomes decisive for their dominant overall life strategy. Th is idealist orientation may stem from exemplary parents or from encounters with representatives of communal traditions. However, it is primarily an active refl exivity, which also may emerge as a reaction to one’s background. Th ey care about society, and seek voluntary organisations. Th is may lead to a perception of life as a calling or vocation, and this group has the highest percentage of active Christians and environmentalists. Meta-refl exives normally seek an organic integration of concerns and relationships, and a balance between personal life and community (Archer 2007, ch. 6). Th is orientation may have affi nity with the second language, or more communitarian forms of ‘individuality’ that Bellah and his colleagues found in their material. In Archer’s typology, value rational commitments are expressive both of ‘where we belong,’ and ‘who we are’ (Archer 2007, p. 301). However, they actively seek and sometimes choose among communities that fi t their own ideals. Th is relationship with community is therefore somewhat more dynamic than the model off ered by Bellah. If the natal community of meta-refl exives does not fi t their ideals (contextual incongruity), they may move to a more fi tting one.

Communicative Refl exives Archer also identifi es a third life mode that she calls communicative refl exives. Th eir dominant form of refl exivity is communicative. Even though they raise issues intra-personally, they resolve them interperson- ally, in relation to ‘similar’ and ‘familiar’ others. Th ey also fi nd their ultimate concerns within the context of their family or in semi-institutionalised relationships. It follows that the fulfi lment of their life projects does not depend on social mobility; on the contrary, communicative refl exives actively maintain ‘contextual continuity’ with ‘similar’ and ‘familiar’ others (Archer 2003, pp. 206–209). In this sense they are ‘communitarian’ (in Archer’s terms), but they are rather uninterested or sceptical towards towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 289 political parties and community organisations, such as churches. Instead their religious beliefs are articulated in ‘private forms of Christianity’, or in a ‘syncretistic’ blend of Christian and New Age elements (Archer 2007, pp. 282–283). Th is life mode may have some affi nity with the communal dynamics associated with what Heelas and Woodhead calls relational individualism (see chapter 2.3.4). An obvious diff erence between Archer’s type and the ‘relational individualist’ is that the latter seems to operate out of a more autonomous mode of inner conversation.11 On the other hand, there are at least two important similarities; both seek subjective forms of religion and more importantly, both seem to fi nd fulfi lment in intimate and communal relationships.

My Own Findings and Archer ’s Th eory – a Critical Comparison So far there seems to be little diff erence between my categories and Archer ’s theory. To a signifi cant degree, this also applies to the relationship between what Archer calls the ‘communicative refl exive’ and what I call the cooperative mode of identifi cation. Th is mode is relational in the sense that it commits to other organisational foci in an individual conversation, which oft en is concluded in dialogue with signifi cant others. Here, Brittany is a typical example. Yet, in my analysis of her story, I might have moved somewhat further than Archer in ascribing a formative role to the signifi cant others, in the sense that they also, at certain points, may become internal to the co-operative identifi er’s inner conversation. In one phase of Brittany’s story, the signifi cant others had model power to the degree that some of her inner actions became unre- fl ective imitations, in the sense of mirroring the signifi cant other. Th is might be an important observation because it shows that one should not exaggerate the human capacity of refl exivity. Here it is relevant to notice that Archer ’s (2007) research on the inner dialogue shows that most people engage in all modes of refl ection, although they have a dominant mode. I will suggest that most people, operating in a cooperative mode of identifi cation, are vulnerable to model power of the ‘taken for granted’ in relation to signifi cant others. Brittany’s story shows that the power involved in such processes is not necessarily harmful; in her case it had a positive empowering eff ect. Model power can obviously be

11 Th e most important diff erence being that ‘the relational individualist’ seems to operate his or her selfh ood out of an ethics of ‘inner’ authenticity, whereas communicative refl exives conclude their inner debates in relation to others. 290 chapter nine dangerous, at least when ‘all areas of life’ is the relevant domain, but this cannot be discussed further here. At this point it is suffi cient to say that relational refl exives may be particularly vulnerable to this kind of power. So even if I, following Archer, reject Mead ’s conception of the self as generally constituted by the generalised other,12 one should not overlook the importance of dominant signifi cant others, in terms of how the formation of identifi cation actually takes place at certain points in a person’s process of identifi cation. Secondly, I will suggest that my fi ndings so far have demonstrated the importance of the narrative level of McAdams ’ model of the human person. I will also suggest that personal biographies and ‘narrative visions and dreams’ provide a kind of horizon for those inner conversations and the level of ‘concerns’ that Archer has studied and described.13 Such stories may fi nd their horizon within or in relation to larger stories, but they cannot be reduced to these, because memories of personal experiences, as well as personal refl ections and dreams, may give these stories a unique shape and structure. I consider this narrative conception of identity as compatible with the morphogenetic approach, since personal stories in this model can be considered as an individual ‘conditioning’ structure, rather than as a sub-element of culture.14 In this perspective, one may ask whether Archer’s conception of identity may be supplemented by narrative theory, and the narrative level in McAdams’ theory.15

Th e Spirituality Mode of the Inner Conversation Finally, what might be somewhat innovative, in relation to Archer’s typology of refl exivity, is my suggestion that people also may refl ect in a ‘spirituality mode’, experiencing what in Pentecostal theological language may be described as ‘internum testimonium spiritum sanctum’ (see Cross 2009, pp. 29–30). For this reason this mode will be discussed

12 While Mead ’s model can account for the process that is described above, it is not necessarily an adequate account of how the self and particularly a more critical and autonomous self is constituted, see Archer 2003, pp. 119–130, see also the discussion below. 13 It is possible to imagine that enacted narrative is not only the most typical form of social life, as Alasdair MacIntyre suggests; one may also think of it as the integrating structure of one’s inner life, see MacIntyre 1985, p. 129. 14 Th is model of life stories may possibly resist Archer’s critique of Giddens’ model, see Archer 1995, p. 126. 15 Even though in recent research (see Archer 2007) Archer has used ‘themes’ from (diachronic) life stories to identify and explain the genealogy of such (synchronic) ‘list’, it seems that she does not see ‘narrative structures’ as constitutive of personal identity. towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 291 in greater length. Th ere are at least three ways in which my respondents claimed that they were able to refl ect and identify with the Spirit. Th e fundamental element is an ability to ‘sense’ or ‘feel’ the Spirit. Here we may reconsider two quotes from Peter: Well, I got saved, so I stopped drinking. Nobody told me, you know, and the Holy Spirit is, you know, a nice guy. He’s very patient, so he just let me feel … I just stopped drinking, because I couldn’t feel Him. Th e second element is new thoughts, and extraordinary ideas that emerge in interplay with particular experiences. Th ese ideas are oft en received in the context of certain spiritual practices, such as praying and reading the Bible. Th is implies that in most cases when respondents say that God ‘spoke’ to them, it does not mean that they heard physical voices. It intuitive sense of ‘knowing with’, that also allows a maybe: Th e Holy Spirit maybe showed me that in a new perspective. Th e perspective of eros in contrast to agapic love… So when I stopped drinking the Holy Spirit started to remind me that it probably wouldn’t be a very good idea to smoke, either. Eventually, the Spirit may also confi rm non-extraordinary thoughts during the process of discernment and decision making. Th us, these forms of intuitive affi rmations may continue to play a part in the deliber- ate phase of their identifi cation process. Debbie describes this in terms of ‘feeling peace’. Th e same way that He guides most of what we do. It’s very much having that peace, if you’ve prayed about something. Having peace when you make the decision to do or not do. To use my own terms, both Debbie and Peter claim that they know not only ‘with themselves’, but also ‘with the Spirit’. Th e Pentecostal tradition teaches that both calling and prophetic utterances should be tested against scripture and on ‘whether they build up the church’ (implicitly defi ned by tradition and reason). Th is is particularly important when the Spirit mode takes an interpersonal prophetic form. Th is kind of Spirit mode plays a factual role in two commitment stories, yet in both cases these prophecies only served to affi rm a sense of calling that was already present.16 Internal testimonies of the Spirit, and in particular

16 Tony’s wish to support missionaries was supported by a prophecy. John’s calling to Copenhagen was ‘confi rmed’ by an elderly Norwegian lady, who did not have any 292 chapter nine callings, are therefore more important in my material than prophecies. It is also worth noticing that my respondents oft en combine the spirituality mode with other forms of refl ection. Peter, for instance, did not rely solely on the Spirit’s promptings when he attempted to stop drinking; he also consulted his doctor, and used medical treatment. From a social scientifi c angle it might be preferable to approach claims of Spirit-inspired knowledge as emic accounts. Stein Bråten’s model of the human self provides an alternative explanation of what I have called the ‘Spirituality mode’ above. Bråten’s model is grounded in his research on the infant-mother relationship. With Humberto Maturana, Bråten suggests that there is a pre-linguistic and non-symbolic mental organisation of the self. However, with Mead (1934), Bråten maintains that the human mind has a dyadic organisation. He suggests that we are born with a participant-room in our mind that can be fi lled with both virtual and actual others (Bråten 1989, pp. 110–113). From a theological perspective, it is interesting that Bråten’s psychological model in principle is open to the suggestion that those invisible features can be as real as visible persons, and that the pre-linguistic organisation of the self may connect to these features beyond bodily and symbolic mediation.17 From an ‘atheist perspective’, one might explain what I have called the Spirituality mode by suggesting that what ‘really happens’ is that the mental participant room is fi lled with a ‘virtual other’ in the form of a symbolic representation of one’s ultimate concerns. Th us, this kind of deep knowing is ‘in reality’ an identifi cation based on a deep feel for one’s ultimate concerns, or one’s conception of these concerns, which draws heavily on intuition, practical consciousness, and indirectly on interpretive repertoires that have given shape to our personal and

‘natural knowledge’ of the situation. Peter’s friends may also prophecy at times, but none of these prophecies played an important role in his story. 17 Because we are born with a virtual other we are capable of self-organisation, equivalent to what Archer calls the ‘primacy of practice’, but we are nonetheless in Bråten’s terms fundamentally relational, since the dyad has psychological priority, see Bråten (1989, p. 110). Th is is an attractive proposal from a theology that views the human person as created in the image of a relational God, capable of fi lling man’s spirit. Th eologically, such a proposal can be grounded in the biblical story, and particularly in Pauline expressions like, ‘my spirit testifi es with the Spirit of God’, and ‘my own consciousness (syneidesis) bearing my witness in the Holy Spirit’ (Rom. 8, 14–16; 9 1–3). I will suggest that Bråten’s model is relatively compatible with a theological model of the self that sees our inner conversation as potentially ontological relational, in the sense that Christ can be internal to our personhood. If one dares to merge Bråten’s model with biblical language, one might suggest that God’s Spirit can fi ll the participant room, and establish a pre- linguistic connection with the person. towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 293 cultural horizon. John Parker has suggested that one might see this as a kind of ‘creative regression’.18 However, some stories in my material, and one in particular, could challenge this somewhat reductive explanation. A wife of one of the pastors in Copenhagen has allowed me to retell her story of how she felt a sense of calling to move to Copenhagen. What is particularly interesting in Sara’s (not her real name) story is that her calling in many ways con- tradicted some of her most important concerns and preferences: It was very strange, because I’m from Jylland, I am a country girl, and I always really disliked Copenhagen. If that was the last place in the world, I would not go there. I did not like cities. So one day, one and a half years before somebody mentioned to Jarle to go to this church, God spoke to me. He said that we would fi nally go to Copenhagen… and I was so upset! When I asked her how God communicated this, she answered: It was just something… I don’t remember how, but I was outside, and I just had this in my heart that we were going to move to Copenhagen. I was very upset with God because I didn’t want to go. [laughter] So I was dealing with Him, and I remember I saw Lars’ brother, their parents were in Copenhagen, and just because he was from Copenhagen I didn’t even want to greet him because I was upset with people from Copenhagen. Sara explains her sense of calling as slightly incomprehensible, by fi rst saying that she doesn’t know how, and then adding that she suddenly ‘had it in her heart’. Another interesting element is the time of the event. Th is ‘calling’ happened more than a year before her husband was asked to come and lead the church. In retrospect, Sara sees this as God’s wisdom for two reasons. First, any important decision by her husband would depend on her consent, because ‘they always do things together’. Secondly, she needed time to accept the idea of moving, and she adds that God ‘continued to work with her heart’ for over a year. As a result, she was ready to go when her husband received the same calling. In my terms, she ‘knew with’ the Spirit that they should go: Something was in my heart, you know, working. When (pastor’s name) came one and a half years later, aft er one summer camp, he came home really laughing, ‘You should hear a joke!’ Th e joke was that they called him to come to Copenhagen. We were just having a great time in (Other city)

18 Parker begins his enquiry from the perspective of object-relations theory. Here Archer ’s conception of the practical ‘semi-conscious’ would be exchanged with a more Freudian concept of the unconscious (see Parker 1996). 294 chapter nine

everything was working fi ne and we were having a really good time. I said, ‘We’re going to do that, you can laugh now, but you will see.’.… I think God was very, very gentle to me, because He talked to me before, and He prepared my heart, so that I was willing to go with (pastor name)…but he could not move if I wasn’t willing to move… We always do things together, (Pastor) would never do anything that I didn’t approve. I will suggest that this might challenge a pure symbolic conception of a ‘virtual other’, since symbols or ‘virtual others’ cannot be expected to mediate such specifi c knowledge of the future. I will therefore suggest that one might consider whether this kind of trans-rational knowledge actually may stem from an S-factor diff erent from Sara’s own consciousness (see appendix A). Sara’s ‘Spirit-encounter’ may therefore be regarded as a particularly good candidate, in terms of being assessed as an ontological encounter with the Holy Spirit. Yet, a fi nal theological evaluation of Sara’s claim would have to depend on further historical and systematic theological analyses, that also take alternative psychological explanations into consideration.

Stage Two: Commitment: Conversion, Rededication, or Intensifi cation

What these diff erent modes of refl ection have in common is that they can lead to the next stage, which I have called commitment. At this point, spirituality plays an important role since commitment to the church in most cases is preceded by a commitment to God, which can take several forms, the most obvious being conversion, as in the case of Peter, rededication, as in the case of Brittany, or intensifi cation, as in the case of Earnest. It is hardly surprising that such commitments follow a crisis, and are experienced as emotionally dramatic, as in the cases of Brittany, Peter and Susan and Gina. In these particular cases, spiritual encounters through worship, preaching, and other experiences with the Spirit played a signifi cant role. Ruth’s case is both similar and radically diff erent, in the sense that she experienced the Spirit without any of the other variables. However, in other cases, like those of Dustin and John, conversion or intensifi cation was a less dramatic process that involved all the types of identifi cation that were analysed in the last chapter. Anyhow, at one point, the person made a decision, or discovered, that he or she had made a new commitment. I see this decision or cognate commitment as a cognitive act in which one is binding oneself to a course of actions, or to a list of prioritised towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 295 actions that more or less defi nes a life project. As we have seen in the cases of Marcus, Brittany and Earnest, this may also involve a rather painful process of ‘cutting off ’ alternative courses of action. In the case of Brittany, her rededication meant a re-integration of earlier commitments, and ‘cutting off ’ her university choices and evaluations. us,Th commitment may also strongly connect to experiences or acts of ‘dying to’ one’s old priorities, including ‘dying to’ one’s own success or self- realisation as the most important concern. It is worth noticing, however, that commitment in Hillsong also is viewed in terms of taking ownership of the church’s vision and practices, and thus as an expansion of both concerns and resources. Th is creates a new sense of self rather than demolishing it, because it provides meaningful practices and a telos that can integrate or centre the self. Following Kierkegaard (1996) and Davenport (2001, pp. 290) one might suggest that one cannot become an authentic self unless one is wholeheartedly committing oneself to a ‘conception of the meaningful life and its purpose’. As Frankfurt observes, making a commitment is a way of identifying oneself, in the sense that what one identifi es with becomes internal to one’s identity, from the point that the commitment is made (Frankfurt 1988, pp. 164–166; 170–172). Th us, this kind of identifi cation produces what Frankfurt calls higher order volitions, and what Archer (2000) calls second order emotions that serve to evaluate fi rst order emotions, and our subsequent deliberative process. Such existentially empowering second order emotions may therefore create, but also over time, overcome, ambivalence or confl ict between a fi rst order desire and the new sense of knowing with oneself. I will also suggest that forms of spirituality may support this process and, at certain points in a given life story, accelerate such ‘second order aff ections’, as we saw in the case of Peter’s conversion. Aft er a time of refl ection, respondents like Marcus, Brittany and Earnest seemed to establish what I will call syneidic commitments that led to practical participation, and a relatively stable mode of evaluating fi rst order emotions. Refl exive syneidesis is more than thinking and choosing; it is to decide, for some reason, by identifying with oneself against other potential identities. Since aff ections drive the practice of deliberation on both levels, there is no dichotomy between ‘feelings’ and ‘reasons’. Th e inner confl icts are rather about confrontations between diff erent aff ective-rational modes, that of the fi rst order and that of the second. Th e outcome is still open and may turn fi rst order emotions into higher ones. 296 chapter nine

Stage Th ree: Consequences – Transformations

Th is may lead to the personal transformation. Indeed, in the stories in chapters four and fi ve we encountered several reports on personal transformation. Brittany was empowered to love in a new way, Peter and Ruth were delivered to live and to love in a new way. Beyond these stories we have seen that Debbie claims that her passion for God has been renewed by a new experience of grace, Yanker and Mia and Tony report that they have developed new interpersonal virtues, and Regine has experienced a new degree of self-acceptance. Th us, it seems that the transformational commitments that were described in chapter eight, in interplay with organisational practices, over time produce at least a degree of personal transformation. I will sum up the process in the following illustration: Th is model may be considered rather unsurprising in comparison with Rambo’s (1993) model of conversion.19 My model may, however, add some new insight, in terms of understanding how diff erent forms of intuitions and inner conversations may give shape to the process of commitment. Th e diff erent modes of inner conversation may also give shape to how representatives of the church wisely interact with ‘new

Figure 11. Stages of identifi cation

19 Most of these elements are described in Lewis R. Rambo ’s (1993) classic and comprehensive model. Th is model seeks to integrate concepts from earlier psychological models that either emphasised (1) a crisis prior to conversion, (2) social infl uences from a group of believers (as in theories of ‘brain washing’), (3) or the protagonist’s active search and internal refl ections. Th e conversion process can, according to Rambo, be understood in terms of seven interrelated variables that simultaneously may be regarded as stages in a process, beginning with (1) the historical socio-cultural context. Th e process oft en entails a (2) crisis, which leads to (3) a quest, and then to an encounter with (4) a new religious ‘option’. What follows are forms of (5) interaction with advocates of this community, and possibly also participation in rituals and new beliefs. Finally, this may lead to (6) a commitment that normally leads to (7) several consequences. towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 297 attendees’. Th us, this mode may infl uence what Rambo calls ‘the advocates’ strategy’. Another element that may be somewhat innovative in relation to Rambo’s model is the importance of both collective and individual spirituality, or what I have called the Spirit mode.

Towards a Typology of Transformational Ecclesial Life Strategies

From Tourists to Ecclesial Pilgrims – a Continuum of Life Strategies In chapter seven we saw that the churches provide resources for personal integration. In chapter eight we saw that transformational commitments were made, and in this chapter I have also identifi ed reports of personal transformations. Th e question now is: Do these images and commitments in fact structure my respondents’ life stories and day-to-day life strategies? Above I have suggested that both churches, to a signifi cant degree, off er fl exible commitment structures. I will suggest that this means that a typology of late modern ecclesial life strategies also may be defi ned in terms of a continuum rather than in sharp ‘either/or’ categories. On one side of the continuum one may fi nd what I, indebted to Zygmunt Bauman , will call a church tourist. In chapter two we saw that Zygmunt Bauman made radical claims about post-modern life strategies. He suggested that the hub of post-modern life strategies is not identity building, but the avoidance of being fi xed. Bauman suggests that these life strategies call for new metaphors of life strategies, such as that of the stroller, the vagabond, the tourist, and the player (Bauman 1995, ch. 3). In my sample, Ingrid may to some degree qualify as a tourist. Being passionate about church life, she identifi es for ‘orthodox’ reasons that transcend her self-interest, but she also uses the church in a transactional manner, to gain new knowledge and experiences. Th us I will suggest that she acts, with permission, as a fl exi-orthodox ‘church- growth tourist’. She is eager to learn and to experience an adventure in a metropolitan church, yet she does not perceive the Hillsong community as her local church, in a long-term perspective. Dustin seems to be a fi tting candidate for the other side of the continuum. His dreams seem to be emplotted by the church’s vision, and he spends most of his time pursuing this collective dream. Dustin sees himself on an ecclesial journey that might ‘make history in Europe’, before it ends, or if one likes, continues in ‘heaven’. As such, he may be considered what Bauman views as untypical in the ‘post-modern’ context; a late modern pilgrim. It is perhaps even more interesting to suggest that the 298 chapter nine same applies to Brittany and Earnest, since they are not staff members. Th eir stories might also be useful in terms of defi ning what I mean by communal pilgrim. Th ey are not hermits, or homeless (see Bauman 1995, p. 85). Th e church is their home, but this community is moving on a biblical journey of discovery, towards God’s purposes. Th is ‘growth- plot’ defi nitively qualifi es as an inner-worldly pilgrimage in the sense of being an exercise in self-construction (see Bauman 1995, p. 86). Interestingly, it also includes the notion of dying to self, a notion not unknown to the hermit. Th is kind of typology must not necessary locate every respondent on the continuum between the tourist and the communal pilgrim. It is suffi cient to establish that some people may be located closer to the orthodox centre, others are located closer to the periphery of the organisation. However, I will nevertheless argue that several people can be located in the fl exi-orthodox middle or near the orthodox end of the continuum. Obviously, it is diffi cult to make exact judgements on where a singular respondent should be placed on a continuum between transactional and short-term identifi cation on one side, and a wholehearted and long- term commitment to the church on the other. More fundamentally, one may also assume that my presence in the fi eld, and the fact that I invited people into a conversation about church commitment, may have produced a bias in people’s stories, in the sense that the importance of the church may be exaggerated.20 Finally, one might add that my interaction analyses showed that people actually avoided certain themes, such as confl icts, and this is obviously relevant for an evaluation of the relationship between the individual and the church. However, even if one takes these problems and possible objections into consideration, I will nevertheless propose that ecclesial visions to some degree, and in a number of cases, to a signifi cant degree, integrate my respondent’s life strategies. Firstly, several stories indicate that some degree of personal integration may be necessary to establish and maintain a degree of psychological well-being. Furthermore, the same narratives demonstrate that such integration may be achieved through church participation. Th e crisis that Brittany experienced as she oscillated between a university- identity and home-identity, shows that the ‘liquid’ identity that Bauman

20 Story telling may also be seen as a structured practice that, in terms of its ‘modus operandi’, causes people to suppress certain facts, and tell a tale that is more coherent than their actual life strategy is. towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 299 describes, at least in some cases, may be more psychologically problematic than he implies. I will also suggest that Earnest’s identity crisis and its solutions, imply that people actually may fi nd inner peace, and develop a relatively coherent identity as they begin to centre their life in an ecclesial setting. Ruth’s self-presentation may come closer to a liquid or saturated self that is dissolved into its network of relationships,21 but her story nevertheless demonstrates that she is struggling to establish a more coherent identity. Indeed, even Ruth, who might be the ‘loosest connector’ of the six respondents portrayed in chapters four and fi ve, testifi es to a new sense of ‘peace or calmness’ as she positioned herself as a member in an ecclesial family of friends. Marcus’ story may possibly be read as a narrative of several ‘selves’, but these are nevertheless somewhat painfully integrated by his calling. Secondly, the resources for integration that were described in chapters seven and eight seem to be enacted in a long-term perspective, by several respondents. Th is seems to be confi rmed by the in-depth analyses that were provided in chapters four and fi ve. Brittany and Earnest’s stories have already been discussed. Peter and Marcus’ long-term commitments may be described as forms of critical loyalty. Th e seriousness of their commitment is demonstrated by the fact that Marcus has chosen to stay in the church despite inner confl icts and external job off ers, whereas Peter remains faithful despite having voted against the leaders. Th irdly, the fact that people report about fi nding integration diffi cult, may also confi rm that it takes place to some degree. Marcus’ story demonstrates that church commitment clashes with other important commitments. Several other respondents, like Brittany, also claim that weekly participation may be exhausting to the degree that they must monitor their level of energy, to paraphrase Earnest. Th us, even if it is impossible to give an accurate evaluation of the degree to which transformational commitments integrate my respondents’ lives, one may assume that such commitments, in many cases, give shape to people’s weekly life strategy, to a signifi cant degree. To these reasons, one might also add a possible fourth motive. I will suggest that some stories of personal transformation seem reasonably trustworthy, despite the fact that conversion stories, in general, may

21 Kenneth Gergen suggests that in the post-modern conditions, ‘each reality of the self gives away to refl exive questioning, irony and playful probing’. Th e consequence is that ‘centre fails to hold’, instead personal identity is ‘dissolved in an ever-shift ing, ever- expanding and incoherent network’ of relationships (in Bauman ’s words, including persons and things), see Gergen 1991, pp. 71; 226–228. 300 chapter nine exaggerate discontinuity. Peter’s transformation from a suicidal alcoholic to a more capable, yet struggling, father is an obvious example.22 Finally, the respondents’ testimonies of relational qualities in their encounter with these communities may, as I have suggested above, demonstrate that people grow virtues of friendliness, care and hospitality.

Key Variables From what has been written so far, I will in the following propose a typology primarily based on observation of patterns that emerge if one views modes of identifi cation, foci of identifi cation, and a given person’s use of identity resources as a more or less integrated whole. As with all ideal types, they are simplifi cations. We have seen that a given person may use several modes of identifi cation in his or her inner conversation, and link diff erent concerns to diff erent plots. However, by identifying several dominating combinations, one may also see how types may relate to this disparity. It is important to note that each type describes a relatively orthodox ideal, which in turn can be used to defi ne a continuum towards a more individualistic version.

Th e Ecclesial Communalist Th e ideal-typic ecclesial communalist makes decisions and identifi es with an organisation through a cooperative mode of the inner conversation. In my material, this group consisted mainly of women, yet some men exhibited traits that may have affi nity with this pattern.23 As in the cases of Brittany and Ruth, this open and cooperative way of being in the world may oft en, but not necessarily, include spiritual experiences, as well. Th e ecclesial communalist may also use therapeutic language to construct a healing plot, such as that of ‘being loved into health’. However, the plot of a homecoming, or a new sense of social self-worth and being ‘accepted’, is probably more typical for this type of participant,

22 Another interesting example is Gary Clarke’s repentance from ‘self- indulgence’, which was briefl y presented in chapter three. Above, we saw that crisis was an important element in such processes and one might ask if a crisis and a solution in terms of new belief and behaviour, at least in some cases, may be seen as an indication that new commitments may be deeply embedded in a given person’s aspirations. 23 Th e respondent who comes closest to this type in my material is Brittany, and in part also Ruth and Regine, and Gina and Susan, but Mahmoud and David may also show some affi nity with these patterns. towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 301 since the church as a home and the relationships it off ers seem to be more important than intra-personal processes. Obviously, growth may take place in several areas of the life of the ecclesial communalist, though she most likely focuses on the relational dimension. It is worth noticing that this kind of proximity is not enough to create a long-term commitment to the church. Archer ’s communicative refl exive, as well as Heelas and Woodhead’s relational individualist (see chapter two), may use a cooperative mode of the inner conversation, but in Archer’s and Heelas and Woodhead’s material these types seem to build relatively loose connections to religious groups associated with alternative spirituality. Th us, friendships and relatively egalitarian groups may be the bridge to larger associations. Th is is at least the case in Ruth’s story; she connected to several groups, and now primarily connects with the church through two small groups. It seems that ecclesial communalists identify more with people than with meta- stories. Interestingly, Regine identifi es strongly with the leaders as virtuous persons, but she still, at least in part, disagrees with their theology. More importantly, in terms of creating identifi cation, it is the ‘advocates’ to use Rambo ’s term, that present the church values in face-to-face situations. However, from her refl ective interaction with her leaders, one may ask whether the ecclesial communalist, who identifi es strongly with a leader or another advocate, sooner or later will begin to identify with the communitarian narratives of that leader, in this case the vision of the church, given that this relation is one of her most important, in terms of belonging and social self-worth. Th e ecclesial communalist may primarily identify with relational images and ‘imagoes’ in the vision (such as the ‘host’ or ‘mother’ who welcomes people home), but she may also learn to appreciate other self-transcendent aspects of the vision, as we saw in the case of Brittany. It is obviously important for ecclesial communalists to introduce their family and closest ones to the church, with the hope that they can be integrated into the ecclesial community. Th is is not unique for this type, yet ecclesial communalists may be particularly good caretakers, to the degree that they are empowered to give ‘self-worth’ rather than just receiv ing it, and to master strategic thinking. Th ey also seem to be extremely important leaders, since relational quality identifi cation seems to be very important to most, if not to all, types of participants. Cooperative refl exives might, however, be more vulnerable to confl icts 302 chapter nine and a sense of social pressure than other types. Communicative refl exives who are brought up in a church, like Brittany, may therefore go through a phase of liminality, where they move out of the fellowship, and enter a liminal state characterised by ambiguity, openness and inde- terminacy, before they return with a sense of having ‘made their own decision’.

Th e Th eo-Dramatic Entrepreneur Th e Th eo-dramatic entrepreneur makes decisions and identifi es with a church, based on strategic thinking and practice performance dynamics. Th ey oft en defi ne themselves in terms of growth plots. Many men can be found in this group, but also women.24 Th ey like to see church ‘happen’, and they like contributing. What distinguishes a Th eo-dramatic entrepreneur from what Bellah called a utilitarian individualist (and what Durkheim called entrepreneurial individualism) is that the former strongly identifi es with a collective vision, and relates to signifi cant others in the process of realising this vision. As we saw above, most respondents seem to identify based on relational qualities, and this also applies to Th eo-dramatic entrepreneurs. Th ey identify with both friends and dynamic role-models, and they too seek to integrate their family into the ecclesial community, if they have one. I will suggest that size and dimension of the vision, as well as the existential longitude of the Th eo-dramatic horizon, trigger potential Th eo- dramatic entrepreneurs to think of themselves as collective history makers. Th us, Th eo-dramatic entrepreneurs identify with a larger existential horizon, and with clear missions defi ned by entrepreneurial images such as the ‘church builder’. It is also worth noticing that the performance-orientated entrepreneur wants to grow in every area of life, not only in the area of practical performance. Th is might cause some problems in the realm of spirituality, since they, even more than other types, easily build a performance- based relationship to God. For this reason, diff erent forms of deliverance from legalism or ‘a sense of guilt’ seem to be important to the Th eo- dramatic entrepreneur. Th is orientation does not necessarily exclude an emphasis on aff ective spirituality, but it may not depend on it, in terms

24 Th e stories of Earnest, Marcus and Edward in London, and Tony in Pinsekirken may show similarities with this pattern, yet this also applies to Debbie, and in part Ingrid, who nevertheless had a looser connection to Hillsong. towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 303 of motivation. Passion may come from worship, but it may also come from the vision and inspiring mission of the church. I will therefore suggest that it is a combination of action-orientated entrepreneurial thinking and communitarian identifi cation with both ‘stories’ and ‘people’ that primarily creates long-term transformational commitment among people of this type. In comparison, Bellah ’s utilitarian individualists might also be attracted to a dynamic church, but their connection will be looser, and they will be more ready to leave whenever a faster growing church or more attractive project appears. However, I have found that people who are close to a utilitarian orientation may become important church builders, given that they convert to a more collectivist or Th eo-dramatic meaning-frame, which adds self- transcendence to the growth plot. Interestingly, Yanker, the respondent who could be considered the most extreme individualist before he entered the church, turned out to be the most passionate collectivist, when he found his new mission and home. From my observation, these respondents make signifi cant contributions to the church, both as participants and leaders, because they seem to be optimistic and passionate hard workers, who get the job done, and with excellence. Th ey may, however, at times stir up confl icts, in particular when they lack relational sensitivity to other types of participants, who appear to be less passionately focused or less hard working. Th eo- dramatic entrepreneurs who master several forms of refl ection and meta-refl ection, like Earnest, seem to be more relationally fl exible, and therefore more capable of getting the job done – together with others, as well.

Th e Spirit-Led Servant Th e empowered charismatic oft en uses the ‘spirit mode’ of the inner conversation when he or she refl ects and identifi es with the church. Spirituality is also one of the most important foci with which he or she identifi es. It would be an exaggeration to suggest that the empowered charismatic ‘hears from God all the time’, though one may encounter this radical version of the type in Pentecostal-charismatic circles. From my material it is better to suggest that the empowered charismatic servant has had certain spiritual experiences, such as a calling that to a large degree gives shape to and defi nes his or her life. A form of crisis that was solved by Spirit empowerment is therefore a typical turning point in the Spirit-led servant’s biography. Th ey are sensitive to the 304 chapter nine

Spirit’s promptings in most situations, but they do not make every decision solely based on intuition, or a sense of being led by the Spirit. Th is group of people consists of both men and women, in my material.25 It is also possible to identify a type of charismatic individualists in the realm of the church, whose primary loyalty lies within (the Spirit mode of) their inner conversation. Charismatic leadership may have a shadow side (Heuser and Klaus 1998), but the charismatic individualist may resist this kind of abusive leadership (oft en performed by other individualists), as well as more healthy forms of community building, by counter claims on having God’s authority, and by taking individualistic decisions qualifi ed by ‘Th e Holy Spirit has led me to…’. I am not suggesting that the latter in all cases is incorrect, but such impressions may be fallible. Th e Spirit fi lled or charismatic individualist may, as a parallel to the attraction that the utilitarian feels towards well-performing churches, be attracted to churches that represent the last or most powerful wave of Charismatic Christianity. In my material, Spirit-led people seem to become church-builders when they combine a desire for the Spirit with a strong affi nity for biblical teaching, and fi nd friends and, perhaps more importantly, spiritual mothers and fathers in the church. More powerfully, callings and ecclesial visions may turn charismatics into, at least in part, self-transcendent servant leaders, who endure hardships for the sake of the local church. Th is is, at least in part, demonstrated in the stories of both Sara and Marcus, even though the latter is more of a meta-refl ective. Th e Spirit mode may, however, also give shape to how they identify with the church’s narrative. Th ey need to a have an inner confi rmation or impression that the vision is ‘true’ or Spirit inspired. Th e relational dimension may be more complex. Although charismatic people are attracted to other charismatic people, the idea that some individuals ‘hear from God’ may also create either small hierarchies or confl icts between ‘prophetic people’. If they identify closely with a community, they may also mobilise resources for critical refl ection in the church. When this type of concern is combined with critical loyalty, ability to engage in dialogue, and willingness to test one’s own spiritual ‘impressions’ within a larger community, it may also prove very fruitful. Th is is, at least in part, demonstrated by Peter’s story on how he has voted against

25 A typical example is Peter, but also the group of people in Pinsekirken’s staff who have experienced a sense of calling, and that includes as least two women. Mia, who is not a staff member, also displays some traits that may be associated with this type. towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 305 many things, but still remains loyal to the decisions made by the organisation, because he recognises that God works outside of his inner conversation, as well. I will suggest, however, that the charismatic individual, as well as the Spirit-fi lled servant, needs a signifi cant degree of refl ective space, if he or she shall stay loyal to a church over time. Th e Spirit-led servant needs to be led by her or his inner sense of calling, which is constantly tested in dialogue with the Spirit. Th is seems to apply to both new converts and leaders.

Th e Truth Seeker In the quantitative material, some respondents described their three most important reasons for qualifying in terms of teaching, theology, and preaching. Th is might indicate that there is a group of people who primarily identify with the church because of its teaching, and its interpretation of the Th eo-drama. Th ese people, who might have a passion for truth, may be called Th eo-dramatic or existential truth seekers, or simply truth seekers. Th e respondent who comes closest to this profi le, in the qualitative material, is Mia. She defi nitively chose to believe in the biblical story before she searched for a church, and the church teaching has also been very helpful for her marriage. However, Mia is more than a seeker for truth, she defi ned herself as a spiritual seeker, like ‘the later’ Peter, she seems to search for God through a combination of Word and Spirit. So even if she came to believe in the Bible fi rst, she explores God through a Th eo-dramatic inspired spirituality. Th is combination may be typical for churches in the Pentecostal charismatic tradition. Most people who seek only truth and meaning in theological systems, narrative or propositional, may in general be more attracted to what Earnest called, with some bias, ‘a theological church’, which is less charismatic or action orientated. Even though most of my qualitative respondents relate to the church’s teaching and seek existential answers, there are few who stand out as pure ‘Th eo-dramatic explorers’, or existential truth seekers.

Th e Meta-Th inking Life Artist Th e correlation between this fi nal ideal type and my respondents’ stories is somewhat diff erent. To understand this type it might be useful to begin with the fact that all of my respondents have several concerns and 306 chapter nine commitments in their life that leave them with the challenging task of integrating these into some kind of holistic life strategy or ‘modus vivendi’. Since fewer communal and communitarian relations can be counted on, or taken for granted, in the late modern context, respondents to a varying degree fi nd themselves, like Ruth, in the ‘locus standi’ that Beck and Bauman have described as being condemned to individualisation. I will therefore suggest that most of my respondents can be considered life artists in the sense that they bring together a collage of concerns into a life plot that represents a balance or integration between competing commitments. Moreover, in a Western world where the public time-space context to a large degree is secularised, re-sacralisation may begin from the ‘individual space’, and connecting ‘all areas of one’s life’ to God also becomes a creative enterprise. It is in no way obvious that either of these enter- prises takes place within the context of a long-term commitment to a church. Yet, both churches, and in particular Hillsong, off er an ecclesial model of life where the church becomes the centre, where one in turn centres one’s life on God. In Pinsekirken it seems clear that callings bring leaders, and some participants, into such a model. Marcus is a particularly interesting fi gure, because he represents a new generation of Christian leaders who see life outside of the Chris- tian organisation as equally important to life within the organisational domain and the Sunday services. He senses that he has a calling to a creative, holistic life that may transcend a more traditional image of the Free Church leader as an ‘organisation man’, yet he sees himself as a person who is called and led by the Spirit to lead in the church, seeing his life through the biblical image of Joseph. Th is combination produces a lot of tension since the systemic pressure and the position as role model in a voluntary organisation seem to create a workload that strongly conditions his life in the direction of the ‘old image’ of a church builder. Marcus nevertheless strives to live a holistic life, not only for his own sake, but also for the sake of what he calls ‘post-modern’ people, who seek holistic and relational role models. As a meta-thinker, who thinks about his own thinking, and as a system-thinker, he sees how diff erent concerns are related in order to co-create a life that honours God. More- over, through the support and refl ective space provided by his leader, and his meta-thinking skills that include both criticism and self-criticism, Marcus is able to maintain critical loyalty to the church. At this point, a comparison with Earnest might be fruitful. Earnest is in many ways a Th eo-dramatic entrepreneur, who is passionately driven towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 307 by Th eo-dramatically qualifi ed action dynamics. Yet Earnest is also a meta-thinker, who thinks about his thinking, monitors his own energy level, and ponders on how things work and are related. Moreover, during my fi eldwork, he was structurally better as a life artist than Marcus. Somewhat paradoxically, being an independent consultant in the new knowledge economy provided Earnest with the possibility of aff ording to take time off to study the Bible, and spend time with friends who shared the communitarian vision of an Acts 2 church. Th is comparison shows that also late- modern life artists form their life strategies under structural conditions that they to a large degree have not chosen. Th us, on the surface it seems that this kind of life is easier outside of the church’s centre. It’s worth noticing that within the Hillsong model, people may be able to think of themselves as bringers or builders. Builders, like Dustin, spend less time outside of the church, and must create a connection to their concerns by including as many of them as possible within the church realm. Th is might possibly be a more realistic model than the one envisioned by Marcus, but eventually new models may emerge that make this dream possible. Th at will, however, demand artistic skills.

Th e Typology and Other Comparative Findings

Overall, all types can be found in both churches. Yet, although this study has pursued such ‘replicable’ fi ndings, some comparative fi ndings may also be presented.

Th e Two Churches and the National Contexts From the analyses of preceding chapters, one might suggest that the Th eo-dramatic entrepreneur is more typical of the Hillsong church, in particular among men. Here, visionary language and imagoes seem to inspire performance orientated identifi cation. Interestingly, this corresponds to the achievement orientation of what House and his colleagues identify as the ‘Anglo’ cluster of cultures (House 2004). Th is life strategy may at least to some degree be seen as a form of personal theological contextualisation, taking place in a context infl uenced by utilitarian individualism. In Pinsekirken, spirituality and callings were more instru mental in terms of creating identifi cation, and the life strategy of the Spirit-led servant may be seen as relevant to the collective expressive 308 chapter nine individualism of the Danish context, described by Gundelach et al. (2008). Th is might suggest that both local theology and the macro-sociological context have signifi cant infl uence on the way people develop ecclesial life strategies.

Gender In chapter seven, I found that there was no signifi cant statistical diff erence between the genders, regarding the relative importance of relational qualities, even though men seemed to be slightly more concerned about relations in the ecclesial context than their female counterparts. Th e qualitative and typological analyses may, however, show a quite diff erent tendency. Although there are both males and females in all groups, more females seem to be ‘pure’ ecclesial communalists. Likewise, on the level of respondents, men like Earnest and Tony see relationship as important in the church domain, but their overall aspirations seem to be dominated by a more entrepreneurial and task-orientated life vision. Like Peter, Tony seems to fi nd his deepest relationships in the church, whereas women like Mia have several other relational arenas where they experience relational qualities – and therefore may focus more on spirituality when they speak about identifying with the church. Th us, in some cases the church may be the relational sphere of men that represents a contrast to the task-orientated world at work. Here, Peter’s statement about ‘giving himself more away’ in the church may confi rm this suggestion. In chapter six we saw that role model identifi cation to some degree was gendered, in the sense that men identify with other men, while female participants identify with both men and women. Th e latter may follow from the fact that the senior leaders are men. However, in the analysis of Brittany’s story I discovered that couples also identify with other couples, which might indicate that communal women identify not only with other persons, but also with other relationships. Th is is a perspective that in some ways transcends gender diff erences. From the perspective of communalists, then, the dyad might be more important than gender diff erences. Th is might also indicate that the female respondents in Hillsong may be more attracted by the images of good relationships than the imageo of the heroic entrepreneur. Th is could indicate that an interpretation of Hillsong’s theology as predominantly ‘entrepreneurial’ might be biased by my gender, since a female insider might emphasise other imagoes and virtues, such as that of unconditional love. towards a typology of ecclesial life strategies 309

Against this I will suggest that Brian Houston is the main preacher and that both Linda and Debbie appear as quite entrepreneurial women, demonstrating that this orientation is embraced by both genders. Overall, I will suggest that there seem to be more similarities than diff erences if one compares the way women and men approach and identify with these churches. Th is study has shown that there are individual vari- ations within the genders.

Possible Diff erence between ‘Traditionalists’ and New Converts Th ere are no dramatic diff erences between new converts and Christians with a Free Church background, seen from the perspective of the typology. Many new converts in the Danish material may be classifi ed as Spirit-led servants or communalists with a spiritual orientation. Some of these seem to be more sceptical towards worldly marketing strategies than some of the more traditional Free Church Christians. Yet, in Hillsong it is possible to fi nd new converts with a stronger focus on aesthetics and professionalism. Furthermore, there is no reason to believe that traditional Christians cannot be Spirit-led servants. Th is is demonstrated by several calling stories in Pinsekirken, as well as the larger story of the charismatic movement. One may suggest, however, that some new converts, who are infl u- enced by the horizon of expressive individualism, like Regine and in part Ruth, may need more time to accept the church beliefs than traditional Christians like Brittany and Earnest. Th is seems like a reasonable suggestion, but one should bear in mind that very devoted participants like Debbie, Dustin and Linda also are converts. Th us, other converts might experience a more radical conversion. However, both of these groups of converts seem to be less concerned about denominational identity than traditionalists over 60 years of age. Th us, there seems to be interplay between age and the status of being a traditionalist, which may produce an important diff erence between younger converts and older traditionalists.

Conclusion

In this chapter I have found that the late modern context seems to condition a transition from a classic bounded Free Church to a more centred structure. Th e centred Free Church seems to combine a small hierarchy 310 chapter nine in the centre with a looser and relatively fl at structures in its close periphery. Th e centre may also be seen as a castle of orthodoxy, though loose surrounding structure also implies that ‘spiritual shopping’ is possible. Since this structure allows a degree of fl exibility, I have defi ned a typology based on a perspective that sees commitment in terms of a continuum of life strategies. In the periphery of the organisation, one may fi nd the tourist who episodically identifi es with the organisation, while closer to the centre one may fi nd more orthodox late modern pilgrims, whereas the people in between are located on a continuum of fl exi-orthodox life strategies. Th is chapter has also shown that commitmentmaking is a very complex and dynamic process. Each type of ecclesial affi liation or ‘modus vivendi’ can only be maintained through constant refl ection and active commitmentmaking, and can therefore change over time. Th e chapter has also shown that there is an interesting interplay between how people identify, in terms of modes of their inner conversation, and why people identify. People who identify in a relational mode also identify for relations reasons, whereas people who identify because of spirituality also employ a spirituality mode in their inner conversation. As we saw in the previous chapter, most respondents combine a ‘transactional and transformational’ way of committing and being in the world. Yet, since the church story and practice in many cases seem to integrate many of my respondents’ life-stories and day-to-day priorities to a signifi cant degree, a typology of ecclesial life strategies can be defi ned. In this chapter I have identifi ed fi ve types, based on the preceding analyses; the ecclesial communalist, the Th eo-dramatic entrepreneur, the Spirit-led Servant, the (existential) truth–seeker, and the meta-thinking life artist. chapter ten

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS

Th is study has presented a multiple case study of late modern Christians, located within contemporary churches that are growing, somewhat counter to the trend in the Western European late modern context. It has sought to answer two important practical theological questions. Firstly, I have made an eff ort to understand why people identify with such churches in relation to their overall life strategy, and secondly, I have investigated whether this process of identifi cation leads to transformational commitments towards common moral goods. I have approached these questions through a qualitative study that has employed semi-structured, in-depth interviews as its primary method, though other qualitative research techniques, as well as a semi- quantitative survey, have been employed as supplementary methods.

Identifi cation I have identifi ed seven identifi cation themes that may be viewed as descriptions of why individuals identify with certain organisational foci. Th ese themes may be summarised as follows:

1. Th e participants fi nd a meaningful and action orientated vision that helps them to see how they may contribute to the continuation of the biblical Th eo-drama. Th e vision does this by providing clear missions and inspiring imagoes that the participants want to enact. 2. Th e churches are perceived to off er existential and practical Bible teaching that helps people to live within a larger Th eo-dramatic horizon and solve practical problems in their everyday life, through application of biblical principles. 3. Participants sense that they are part of a growing and/or large organisation that makes a dynamic impact on the immediate world by living its story through dynamic practices. 4. Th e churches are considered relevant because of their contemporary aesthetic and professionalism. 312 chapter ten

5. Most importantly, people identify with these churches because they off er, facilitate, and are associated with a sense of community and friendships with family qualities, including love, friendliness, hospitality, and serving love. 6. People identify with these churches because they fi nd leaders, and more importantly mid-level leaders, who appear as caring role models and trustworthy and empowering pathfi nders. 7. Finally, people identify with these churches because they facilitate rituals and Spirit encounters that mediate experiences in which God is engaged as a caring father and as the dynamic Lord of history.

Data from the semi-quantitative survey seems to suggest that relational qualities and spirituality are the statistically most frequent identifi cation themes. Th e qualitative analysis seems to confi rm that relational qualities are the most important singular reason for identifying, but this construct must nevertheless be understood in interplay with the other dimensions. I have also identifi ed three ways in which the organisational foci provide resources for everyday living and the way my respondents construct their identity, and integrate their life strategy. Th ese may be seen as three intra-personal identifi cation themes that may be added to those presented above.

8. Th ese churches are relevant as a metaphorical home, or as a place of ‘selfi ng’, where one can centre oneself and develop one’s identity in a complex process, which includes both a sense of free dom and a sense of belonging. 9. Th e churches also provide resources for personal growth, empowering the participants to develop diff erent forms of relations and skills that may ground a personal ‘growth plot’. 10. Finally, the participants embrace these churches because they provide arenas for self-transcendent contributions, where people can serve a cause larger than themselves and live out their sense of being called by God to serve in the world.

Overall, the churches appear as relevant in relation to the experience of living in the late modern habitat. Th e participants value a Bible-based teaching that also approaches essential late modern themes. Hillsong presents its image of successful living, a key metaphor in the language summary and conclusions 313 that Robert Bellah calls utilitarian individualism, but the church’s teaching also includes motifs like ‘unconditional love’ and ‘health’ from the language of expressive individualism. Pinsekirken’s teaching seems to move closer to the second interpretative repertoire, being sensitive to the collective form of individualism that Hans Raun Iversen and his colleagues fi nd characteristic of Danish mentality. Hillsong’s worship rituals seem to contextualise Pentecostal spirituality within some of the aesthetic codes of Western pop culture. Pinsekirken’s spirituality seems on the other hand, to be more attractive to ‘alternative spiritual seekers’. Th e small groups, as well as the churches’ teaching on God as a caring father, seem to provide a sense of home in a runaway world where people have to fi nd biographical answers to systemic contradictions. I have also suggested fi ve meta-categories of organisational identifi cation that are embedded in strata of reality that are seen as irreducible to one another, though I assume that a degree of mutual inter-penetration takes place in actual social interaction. Th ese categories obviously need to be tested and developed further by both theoretical and empirical studies, but they are presented in this study to provide a holistic image of organisational identifi cation.

Transformational Commitments and Life Strategies Both churches off er relatively holistic sets of ecclesial and social commitments. Th is study confi rms that transformational commitments take place, although the degree to which common moral goods integrate personal life strategies varies. Both churches share some of the key ecclesial assumptions of the Pentecostal and the Free Church tradition. Th is Free Church ecclesiology has been defi ned as an authentic, yet incomplete second language that may nurture authentic transformational commitments. I have suggested that both churches off er ecclesial models of life that to some degree, and in many cases to a signifi cant degree, give shape to the participants’ modus vivendi. Th e analyses have also demonstrated that the genesis of self-transcendent commitments might be very complex processes that include several ideational, practice-dynamical and relational variables that also may be related to spirituality. It is worth noticing, however, that most respondents also employ transactional life strategies to a substantial degree, implying that most life strategies of the individuals studied in this project seem to be a complex interplay between transactional and transformational incentives. Nevertheless, in both churches people commit to relatively holistic sets 314 chapter ten of transformational commitments, in the sense that they combine commitments to God, the church, to oneself and one’s family, and to the social context. Although evangelism is seen as a priority, the participants also seek to contribute to the social welfare of their context, in other words, to the shalom of the community. Th ey embrace the responsibility of virtuous living in their everyday context, as well as supporting or engaging in diff erent forms of social activism, like humanitarian aid. Th e churches see themselves as politically independent, but nevertheless they encourage public political refl ection. What seem to be lacking in both churches are more explicit public refl ections on environmental issues. In chapter nine, I found that that the late modern context seems to condition a transition from a classic bounded Free Church to a more centred structure. Th e centred Free Church seems to combine a small hierarchy in the centre with loose and relatively fl at structures in the ‘close periphery’. Since this structure allows a degree of fl exibility, I have defi ned a typology based on a perspective that sees commitment in terms of a continuum of life strategies. In the periphery one may fi nd a church tourist who episodically identifi es with the organisation, while closer to the centre one may fi nd more orthodox late modern pilgrims, whereas people in between are located on a continuum of fl exi-orthodox life strategies. In chapter nine I also found that that there is an interplay between how people identify, in terms of modes of their inner conversation, and why people identify. Modes of identifi cation were therefore included in the typology. I have identifi ed fi ve types that may be described briefl y as follows:

• Th e ecclesial communalist makes decisions and identifi es with an organisation through a cooperative mode of the inner conversation. Th e ecclesial communalist may also use therapeutic language to construct a healing plot that integrates the self. However, the plot of a homecoming is more typical for this type of participant, who identifi es with the church primarily because of relational qualities, and identifi es with the communitarian vision through communal relationships. • Th e Th eo-dramatic entrepreneur makes decisions and identifi es with a church, based on strategic thinking and practice performance dynamics. Th ey oft en defi ne themselves in terms of growth plots. What distinguishes a Th eo-dramatic entrepreneur from the summary and conclusions 315

utilitarian individualist is that the former strongly identifi es with a collective vision, and they relate to signifi cant others in the process of realising this vision. • Th e Spirit-led servant oft en uses the ‘spirit mode’ of the inner conversation when he refl ects and identifi es with the church. Spiritu- ality is also one of the most important foci with which he or she identifi es. Th e empowered charismatic servant may have experienced a calling that to a large degree gives shape to, and defi nes his or her life. • Th e truth seeker identifi es with the church because of its teaching, and interpretation of the Th eo-drama. Th ese people, who might have a passion for truth, may be called Th eo-dramatic or existential truth seekers, or simply truth seekers. • Th e meta-thinking life artist wants to live a holistic life, not only for his own sake, but also for the sake of others. As a meta-thinker, who thinks about his own thinking, and as a system-thinker, he or she sees how diff erent concerns are related in order to co-create a life that honours God. Moreover, through the support and refl ective space provided by their leader, and their meta-thinking skills that include both criticism and self-criticism, this may produce both ambivalence and forms of critical loyalty to the church.

Th is typology might be considered as a prototype that, alongside other fi ndings, may be elaborated through further studies. chapter eleven

RETHINKING TRANSFORMATIONAL LEADERSHIP AND PARTICIPATION

Th e purpose of this aft erword is to refl ect on how my fi ndings can contribute to strategic practical theology and to generate ideas for further inter-disciplinary research. It may be read as an un-scientifi c post-script, since a more exhaustive practical theological study, which includes extensive historical analyses and systematic theological elaboration, is beyond the scope of this chapter.

Refl ections on the Moral Quandary of Transformational Leadership

Th is study began from a fi rst horizon that sees both transformational leadership and transformational commitments as morally desirable. At the end of the study, this basic conviction is maintained, but in this fi nal chapter I will also add that transformational commitments are far from unproblematic. Several stories, and in particular those of Marcus and Dustin, evoke one of the most pertinent moral quandaries of transformational leadership: the issue of sacrifi cing one’s life plans, and possibly also parts of one’s family life, for the sake of the organisation. Th is is a common criticism of transformational leadership.1 Stevens, D’Intino and Victor (1995, pp.135–137) claim that transformational leaders induce followers to ‘put aside their needs and self-interest for the sake of the leader, or the organisation’, and they fi nd this un-ethical.

1 Bass and Steidlmaier (1999, pp. 192–193) sums up the critique of the ethics of transformational leadership in fi ve points: (1) Its use of impression management may be seductive, (2) it may be considered antithetical to shared leadership, equality, consensus and participative decision-making, (3) it encourages followers to go beyond their own self-interests, (4) it manipulates followers along a primrose path on which they lose more than they gain, and (5) it lacks the checks and balances of countervailing interests. In this chapter I will primarily refl ect on points 2 and 3, since these are most relevant to questions pertaining to transformational commitments on the part of the follower. I will also off er some brief refl ections on points 2 and 4 as I refl ect on structure and shared decision-making below. However, the fi rst point will be neglected, since it primarily concerns leadership behaviour rather than follower commitment. 318 chapter eleven

Even more troubling, according to Stephens and her colleagues, is the fact transformational leaders transform their followers’ values: Fundamental transformation of employee values is wrong, in philosophical terms, because it deprives the individual of goods necessary to carry out his or her autonomously chosen life plans. (Stephens et al. 1995, p. 139). Th is seems to apply more specifi cally to the power-relation between leaders and employees, but on a more general level, they claim that manipulation takes place ‘When followers are induced to change their values by any means other than full voluntarism’ (Stephens et al. 1995, pp. 134–135). Th is critique is grounded in what they see as the democratic and humanistic values of the organisational development movement, and builds on rational choice theory (Homans 1974), as well as John Rawl’s conception of the social contract (Stephens et al., pp. 126, 135–136). Th e question posed by Stephens and her colleagues is in my view highly relevant, based on the empirical evidence, even though they build on problematic premises. Firstly, they seem to overlook that James McGregor Burns defi ned leadership as moral if it was: (1) guided by ‘near-universal ethical principles, such as respect for human dignity and equality of human rights’; (2) dealing with fundamental and enduring needs, as defi ned by the followers, and (3) based on an informed choice (Burns 1978; Bass 1985, p. 182). Secondly, their premises seem to fi t into MacIntyre’s description of liberal individualism’s conception of a community as ‘an arena in which individuals each pursue their own self-chosen conception of the good life’ (MacIntyre 1985, p. 195). Th is conception may be considered inadequate from my fi rst ‘theological horizon’, since, as Stanley Hauerwas has pointed out, such models set in place social institutions that try to ‘ensure cooperation among people who share no common goods or virtues’ (Hauerwas 2001, p. 288).2 For this reason3 it might be urgent to ground Stephens’ critical question in reasons inherent to the Christian tradition.

2 In fairness to Rawls, Hauerwas (2001, p. 288) adds that: ‘Rawls does not exclude consideration of virtue’, yet he nevertheless consider his conception of virtue as secondary to principles of justice’ as equally inadequate. 3 Th e same objection may apply to Kathleen Patterson’s (2003) more recent critique of transformational leadership. She suggests that servant leadership has an altruistic focus on the well-being of the followers, whereas transformational leadership emphasises the good of the organisation over the good of the individual (Patterson 2003, pp. 1–4; 27) rethinking transformational leadership 319

Th is is not fully unproblematic, since it is obvious that the Christian story can be used to ground a positive evaluation of self-transcendent service and self-sacrifi ce, all the way to martyrdom. It is not without reason that Anders Nygren ’s (1966) notion of Christian love as self- sacrifi cial has held a privileged position in theological ethics. Christian ethics may ground an understanding of self-sacrifi cial love in the New Testament paradigm of the church as God’s people (see Fee 1996, pp. 63–73), and in the paradigm of Jesus as the exemplary suff ering servant (Mark 10, Luke 22), who also laid down his life in self-sacrifi cial love for his friends (John 13). However, as Stassen and Gushee (2003, pp. 328–329) suggest, Nygren ’s interpretation may have some damaging liabilities. It seems to sever the biblical connection between love and justice, and it appears to allow no place for setting boundaries to protect and care for the self. Th is means, as several feminist theologians have put forward, that Nygren’s notion of agape may be used to keep oppressed people in their place. Instead, the feminist theologian Beverly Wildung Harrison suggests that Jesus ‘accepted’ sacrifi ce, but his sacrifi ce was for the cause of radical love, understood as ‘radical mutuality and reciprocity’ (Harrison 1990, p. 211). Even though this account presents, in my view, a too anthropocentric perspective on the atonement (see the critique by Weaver 2002), it may represent necessary correction to the one-sidedness of Nygren’s approach. It is worth noticing, however, that mutual love or equal regard should not be confused with transactional, ‘win-win’ agreements, based on economic rationality. By mutual regard, I mean a mutual self-transcendent commitment to the welfare of ‘the other’ for his or her sake. In an eschatological perspective, the coming of the new age may be seen as the creation of social relationships in the image of Trinitarian love (Volf 1998). Th ese may be described as an ethic of ‘mutual love in a covenant community that values respect for otherness’, but in this unjust age, before the Kingdom is consummated, it also means that the church must seek to ‘create justice, in terms of lift ing the burdens of the weak and the hurt’ (Stassen and Gushee 2003, pp. 331–332). In ‘this age’, where sin rules to the degree that perfect mutuality is not yet established, serving love will also have to accept sacrifi ce, for the sake of the other, but also for the sake of inspiring others, including one’s enemies, towards an ethics of mutuality. Sacrifi ce is therefore not an end in itself, but rather, to use my words, acts of transformational leadership that may inspire and contribute to what Browning (2004, p. 137) calls ‘a transition to the restoration of mutuality’. 320 chapter eleven

Th is restoration must, however, be understood in a Th eo-dramatic frame,4 and is ultimately possible because of God’s atonement of human sin, through the death and life of Jesus. Recently, John Milbank (2006) has, in part as a response to René Girard’s phenomenology of sacrifi ce, as well as to Anselm’s theology of the atonement, outlined a model of the church that employs ‘atonement’ as a root metaphor. Milbank describes the church’s ‘modus vivendi’ as: Finally, the Kingdom means (speculatively) and illustrates (practically) bearing burdens of others, even of our accusers. Th us it is Jesus’ end, as well as his life, that we are to imitate. Mutual forgiveness and bearing of each other’s burdens becomes the modus vivendi of the church as an ‘aton- ing’ way of life. (Milbank 2006, p. 401) Th is peaceful way of life also resists the violent element of civic virtue, which was common in Greek traditions, and institutes the church as a counter-culture that testifi es to God by giving, rather than by taking lives (Milbank 2006, pp. 392–93, see also Hauerwas 2001). I will suggest that this vision includes, rather than excludes, self-love (and human fl ourishing),5 seen as a ‘self-determining response to God which is actualized in, but not exhausted by neighbour love’ (Weaver 2002, p. 166). A vision of a holistic and balanced life may also be grounded in what McClendon (2002, pp. 85–86) defi nes as the Christian ethics of the natural or ‘organic’ realm. McClendon sees human beings as embodied creatures that respond to the Creator. Th is embodiment means that the individual is born with several legitimate individual needs (McClendon 1986, pp. 96–97). It is worth noticing, however, that this bodily position also includes an involuntary placement in socio-material structures, some of which have a transactional character, such as market capitalism. I will therefore suggest that some forms of transactional calculations are unavoidable, as we saw in Marcus’ refl ections on salary, his family, and his new house. Several stories in this study imply

4 Th is is an important insight from McClendon – self-sacrifi ce is not necessarily a universal principle, but its value depends on the ontological validity of the Christian story (McClendon 2002, pp. 333–343). 5 I will also suggest that protection of one’s health, and a degree of self-care, seems to be presupposed in the biblical story as a natural way of being in the world, that is not condemned as sinful per se (e.g. Eph. 5:29, and 3 John 2). Th is means that individual well-being is valid as an ethical good. Moreover, the realisation of one’s human and spiritual gift ing also implies a sense of unique individuality or ‘fl ourishing’ (Rom. 12:3; 1 Cor. 12:21), even though this uniqueness fi nds both its overarching telos and ultimate identity within the larger community, and one’s relationship to God. rethinking transformational leadership 321 that one should refl ect on the balance between individual and organisational needs, since confl icts between them exist in practice. At this point it might also be necessary to emphasise the diff erence between what MacIntyre (1985, pp. 194–195) calls practices and what he calls institutions. Th e fi rst type pursues ethical goods internal to the practice, whereas the latter involves external goods such as money and competitive position and power. Although the fi rst cannot exist fully without some form of the latter, it might be fruitful to distinguish between sacrifi ces made for the sake of internal values on one side, and sacrifi ces made for organisational performance on the other. Th us, at this point I am close to agreeing with Stephens and her colleagues. If transformational leadership is employed in a setting where the bottom line, in fact, is the ultimate value rather than the vision, then transformational leadership might be seductive or ideological. Ecclesial leadership focusing on institutional growth may be in danger of committing the same felony. Th e instrumentalist fallacy (Skjervheim 1996), in terms of treating members only as means for personal interest or organisational purposes, remains a constant temptation for ecclesial leaders as well, including Pentecostal leaders (see also Heuser and Klaus 1998). With Marcus and his friends from ‘emerging churches’ (see also Bolger and Gibbs 2006, pp. 96–100), it is therefore pertinent to ask whether the Christian mid-level leader necessarily must become an ‘organisation man’ (see Whyte 1959) at the expense of other important relations. Th e search for a more holistic alternative is defi nitely desirable, although it might turn out to be a very diffi cult project.6 Passion for God’s kingdom must remain the overarching and integrating Christian aff ection (see Land 1993) that transcends the transactional ethics of mutual self-realisation, proposed by Stephens and her colleagues. Th e eschatological horizon of the New Testament defi nes the coming Kingdom of God as the ultimate common good, with radical implications for one’s priorities (Matt. 6: 25–33). At this point, Jesus challenges all individualist life strategies, with a clear ‘either/or’: For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will fi nd it. (Matt. 16:25; see also John 12:25).

6 Whether the emerging church movement is able to off er a robust alternative to such organisations, beyond relatively episodic forms of community, remains to be seen. Long- term relationships beyond the ‘episodic’ might require more institutionalisation than both Pentecostals and post-modern Christians believe, at least if MacIntyre is correct. He suggests that practices and institutions form a single causal order (MacIntyre 1985, p. 194). 322 chapter eleven

Th us, Hillsong’s notion of dying to oneself is not unsubstantiated. How- ever, within this overarching horizon one can ask pertinent questions, in the name of love, about the justice of the social system, including ecclesial ones, since the leaders responsible will be held accountable to how they treat those who laid down their life for the gospel (Matt. 25, see Kvalbein 1990, pp. 229–230). Exactly how one should conceptualise individuality theologically, within a larger communitarian frame, is a task that cannot be completed within the scope of this study, yet I will suggest that the preceding analysis may substantiate some preliminary propositions. Firstly, self- transcendent service for the common good in a long-term perspective must integrate an ethics of self-care and self-protection, in a middle- term perspective. Secondly, from the perspective of mutual love, it is advantageous to investigate how sacrifi ces for the organisations are distributed, and how they aff ect diff erent people. Th is may also reintroduce Flyvebjerg’s ‘power question’: Who loses and who wins, by which mechanism of power?

Structure Revisited – A Perspective on Power

Th ese questions should continue to be addressed in further studies. An in-depth analysis of these questions is not possible here. Yet, based on the data available and refl ections made on both agential power (see Bauman’s defi nition in chapter two, above) and ‘model power’, some suggestion can be made about where prospective studies should begin. Two questions are, in my view, particularly important when it comes to an analysis of power. Th e fi rst question concerns what one might call the balance between personal sacrifi ces on one side, and individual benefi ts and ‘mutual empowerment’ on the other. Put diff erently, who sacrifi ces the most for the organisation, and with what degree of personal or communitarian power-freedom in return? Secondly, does this group have suffi ciently refl ective space to assess their situation, so that their choice is adequately informed to be as volitional as possible? As for where to start looking, I will suggest that there is one group in this study, which has less power-freedom than others. Th is is not the lay participant who is located around the centre, in the egalitarian groups. Th e small groups are oft en led in a way that to some degree enables collective decision-making. If this is not the case, people may withdraw relatively easily. Th ere might be exceptions, where small groups create group rethinking transformational leadership 323 thinking, or people who leave are persecuted in some way or another, but the latter did not show up in my material. From observation and the stories of Ruth, Peter, Brittany and Earnest, I will propose that people may have little formal power in the organisation as a whole, but there are many resources for personal empowerment available at the face-to-face level, and they can, as we saw in the case of Brittany, withdraw relatively easily if they are exhausted or want to leave for other reasons. Th e employed people in the centre fi nd themselves in a quite diff erent structure. Th ey are expected to work long hours, with moderate or low salaries, since they are expected to be role models in a voluntary organisation. Th ey may also withdraw, but this will have more critical consequences in terms of social prestige, self-evaluation, and economical income. Creative power-freedom is also distributed more asymmetri- cally in the centre. Th e senior leaders have creative freedom, since they have the role of the ‘cultural architect’, and they may utilise other power sources (see French and Raven 1959). Th e legal position of a senior leader involves the right to reward, and possibly to coerce, through control of material resources and job opportunities in the social structure. Th e pastors are also, as we have seen, regarded as experts with a signifi cant degree of reference power. To this one might add that a brilliant teacher, like Brian Houston, gains large economic benefi ts from his ministry. Such leaders may sell audio-books and other ‘resources’ to the degree that it enables them to live without a salary from the church. I am not suggesting that this is morally wrong; I believe that both academic and popular authors basically should be evaluated on how they use or share their money. Nor do I want to fall into the choir of voices who suspect Hillsong of some kind of hidden economy. Th is has not been proven. My point is descriptive and structural. Th e senior leaders are in a position that entails much sacrifi ce, but also much power and freedom, or to put it diff erently, they are in a demanding, but nevertheless privileged position. Th is kind of sacrifi ce-versus-power ratio does not apply to the people at the lowest level of the ‘central hierarchy’. Th ese have less social and cultural infl uence than their leaders, and at the same time they are also ‘employees’ who are formally obligated to work continually in an organisation that depends on volunteers. Structurally, they are ‘caught in the middle’ between organisational demands and a work force that can leave at any time. We have seen how demanding this can be for associate pastors, like Dustin and Marcus. Yet, they are located in the middle of the small hierarchy, and I will suggest that the commitment versus 324 chapter eleven power-freedom ratio is even more diffi cult for their assistants, positioned below them in the central hierarchy. When a female leader in Pinsekirken reported that she suff ered from male co-workers who used their ‘elbows’ more than females, this is obviously an unnecessary sacrifi ce, which makes her service unnecessary hard. One might ask whether the structure in both churches, as well as defi nitions of the female as a helper, nurtures male dominance on the level of interaction as well. As we have seen, these questions were therefore under debate in Pinsekirken. Th ese questions should nevertheless be addressed with theological integrity, and for this reason, one should respect both churches when they use time and ‘keep addressing this issue’, in Houston’s terms. It may be worth noticing that none of my female staff informants in London were complaining about male dominance, they felt ‘encouraged’ rather than constrained. Th is might be interpreted as a strategy of avoiding confl ict and accepting the status quo, but it can also be taken at face value and be seen as a consequence of the fact that all positions in the London church in principle were available to both genders, since the church has elders only in Australia. Possibly the most critical group that is aff ected by the needs of organisational sacrifi ces is the spouses and children of the workers in the centre. Th ey have a parent or spouse who works as hard as an execu- tive leader, who has little time to spare, and who provides a relatively low income, at least in relation to the secular alternatives, if we are to believe Marcus. I will suggest that one should also understand the remarkable story of Sara’s calling with this horizon. Being a pastor’s wife can be extremely demanding. Signifi cantly more problematic is the position of their children, since they are placed in this position by the choice of their parents. Th eir position represents a moral quandary of its own, which properly belongs to the practise that Roland Heifetz (1998) defi nes as ‘leadership without easy answers’. Th e fact that some children, like Joel Houston (the son of Brian and Bobbie Houston), seem to follow in the footsteps of their parents, may indicate that this dilemma is manageable.

Refl ective Space as Condition for Authentic Transformational Commitment

Refl ective space is important for a number of reasons. It is necessary to provide space for critical refl ections, but is also necessary to allow a rethinking transformational leadership 325 given transformational commitment to be made in syneidesis with oneself. Without refl ective space, the person’s integrity is not secured, and I will therefore suggest that a degree of refl ective space is necessary to qualify a given commitment as authentically transformational. Here I follow James McGregor Burns, who suggested leadership was moral if it was based on an informed choice (Burns 1978, Bass 1985, p. 182). At the same time it is diffi cult to determine the exact criteria for the degree of refl exive space, since an inter-deterministic view of human agency at best can speak about relative autonomy – and churches are by nature what Bauman (1997) calls monotheistic communities that do not off er alternative horizon narratives. For these reasons I will propose only the following minimalist criteria:

1. Th e person should regularly refl ect on the church’s beliefs and practices, his or her commitment to the church, and on how this aff ects his or her life (including the family). 2. He or she should be encouraged to do so, by the organisation. 3. People should feel that they are accepted if they choose to fall back to a more passive relation, without any painful economical or social sanctions beyond legal obligations.

I will suggest that this raises an interesting question concerning the process that creates radical forms of identifi cation. Here Dustin’s story can be considered a paradigmatic case, at least in comparison with Marcus’ story. Like Marcus, Dustin places most of his time, energy, and capabilities in the service of the church. However, unlike Marcus, Dustin shows few signs of ambivalence in relation to this choice; to him it is rather a dream come true. Does this indicate that Dustin is unthinking, and una- ware of the potential ambivalence? Is he living in a state of self-seduction and denial? Th e following passage may provide some interesting clues to the answer to this question: It’s always been about what I want to do, and what’s really needed to be done. Th at’s where the tension is. You always want to know where you’re going to grow. Always ask yourself, ‘What is it I’m always getting upset about?’. Go there and go, ‘Okay, maybe this is the answer to me growing’. Die to yourself. You can’t change the world and still have your own.… Whatever you’re not prepared to sacrifi ce, will reveal to you what’s really closest to your heart. I will suggest that the part of his inner conversation that is displayed in the quote, shows that there are some tensions between ‘what I want to 326 chapter eleven do’ and ‘what’s really needed to be done’ in his inner dialogue. Dustin is defi nitely aware of the costs of such a commitment. Th is tension is, however, balanced in favour of the latter element, by a relatively stable commitment to ‘die to oneself’ for what is closest to his heart: his calling to build the church. Th us, I will suggest that his radical commitment is grounded in the process of personal deliberations and cannot be considered unthinking, in the sense of not being thought through.

Th e Shadow Side of Enthusiasm and Flow I will suggest that most of the stories presented in chapter four and fi ve display this kind of refl ective space, or no evidence for a contradictory conclusion. In many cases, including that of Dustin, people have actively sought aft er a church. Th us, to a signifi cant degree they seem to fulfi l the criterion of full voluntarism. On the other hand, one may object that even if Dustin and others are strongly conditioned by the socio-cultural ‘life world’ of the ecclesial context, since Dustin spends much time in the church, there are few other perspectives that could challenge the ‘model power’ that this ‘repertoire’ represents. I will also suggest that the stories of Earnest and Dustin demonstrate that experiences of ‘fl ow’ following from performing well do not necessarily stimulate critical thinking. Th e experience of being part of a successful organisation might tempt people, in Bauman ’s terms (1993, p. 130), to ‘be in the crowd’ rather than ‘being for the other’, or even being for oneself, in terms of ethical care. Th us, there are several social mechanisms that threaten refl exivity in these churches. Th is danger is probably more severe in centred charismatic churches, like Hillsong, where positive thinking is highly valued and there is little or no corporate critical refl ection.7 However, I also observed that a staff member was relieved of his duties for some time during my fi eldwork in London, in order to refl ect on and deal with the pressure that his work had put on his life and on his marriage. Th is is obviously an important response when the pressure causes damage to lives and relationships. Both culture building and spiritual formation in general should aim at providing refl exive space, which allows the individual to give deliberative responses to both systemic pressures and ethical and theological impulses so that they may guard their integrity.

7 Shane Clift on suggests in his study of the AOG in Australia that this tendency has ‘alienated theological critics’ (Clift on 2005, p. 257). rethinking transformational leadership 327

A Comparative Note on Refl ective Space in the Two Churches Based on the contrast between Dustin’s and Marcus’ stories, the demon- stration of critical space in Peter’s story, as well as the fact that people seem to be more transparent with their criticisms in the material from Copenhagen, one might ask whether there is more room for such refl ection in the Danish church, than in its Australian-British counterpart. Th is might be explained by the fact that Pinsekirken facilities adequate forms of participatory democracy that seems to be lacking in the Australian-British church. Yet, this is not the only possible explanation. Since I was considered more of an ‘insider’ in this church (i.e. the Danish church), loyal insiders may have felt more comfortable sharing their critical refl ections. Another possibility is that the level of enthusiasm was so high among the Hillsong participants that they had few critical refl ections to share. Enthusiam is undoubtably a part of the ‘culture’ that Hillsong seeks to build. Th e question is wheter it is possible to combine a high level of enthusiasm with a high level of refl ective space. Shane Clift on ’s study (2005, p. 268) seems to argue that this is problematic. He suggests that there is a lack of critical refl ection in the Australian Assemblies of God that contributes to an alienation of small churches and female leaders. He sees this as a consequence of the practical church-growth orientation, and the emphasis on positive thinking associated with the prosperity teaching. Th e fact that Clift on holds an important post as an academic Dean in one of their institutions, and is referred to as ‘cool’ by one of my ‘staff respondents’ might imply that there still is a degree of critical- refl ective space in the movement. Yet, both Earnest and Dustin’s narratives seem to confi rm that refl ective space is primarily used for pragmatic consideration orientated towards performance. Th e question about con- strictive - critical refl ective space is therefore another issue that one should ‘keep addressing’.

Individual Consideration and Refl ective Space I will suggest that both visionary leadership and refl exive space are necessary to create critical loyalty and robust commitment beyond initial enthusiasm. Marcus’ long walk with the senior pastor shows that theological enthusiasm and relational proximity may be combined with refl ective space and critical loyalty. Th is study has shown that individual consideration also means sensitivity to the follower’s mode of inner conversation. Meta-thinking life artists, and to some degree Spirit-led charismatics, need a signifi cant degree of refl ective space. 328 chapter eleven

Th eo-dramatic entrepreneurs need refl ective space for practical considerations, and ecclesial communalists need a sensitive combination of proximity and free dom. Th ese fi ndings may be innovative in relation to established theories on transformational leadership, but will undoubtedly need more research in order to improve both constructive validity and generalisability.

Towards a System Dynamic Model of Ecclesial Leadership

Th is study has identifi ed fi ve important interplaying dimensions of ecclesial participation. I will suggest that this dimension might be fruitful in terms of working towards a system dynamic model of transformational ecclesial leadership, as well, although additional theoretical and empirical studies are needed to validate the model as a general model of leadership. At this point, I will suggest that at least two adjustments must be made if the model is to be transformed from a model of participation to a model of leadership. Firstly, one should add a dimension of collective integrating refl ection, and secondly, even though personal-refl ective dimension may be seen as a form of self-leadership, it can, in a strict organisational perspective, be subsumed under relational leadership, in the sense that unique individuals need leadership that provides individual consideration. It is worth noticing that the model is a model of leadership for follower or participant commitment, whereas Bass’s (1985) original theory focused on ‘performance beyond expectations’.

Existential Dramatic and Th eo-Dramatic Leadership Th e model will then include fi ve key dimensions. Th e fi rst dimension might be called existential-dramatic leadership. In an ecclesial setting, Th eo-dramatic leadership might be a more appropriate label. Th is type of leadership has affi nity with what Bass calls inspirational motivation, but unlike Bass’s general approach, Th eo-dramatic leadership is specifi - cally grounded in the larger horizon narrative of the Bible. Th eo-dramatic leadership, as it has been observed in this study, is more than teaching or narrating the Bible. Organisational visions and stories become inspirational to the degree that they are able to help the participant to see how she or he can be a part of and contribute to the Th eo-drama. It is dramatic in Vanhoozer’s sense of ‘showing rather than telling’ (Vanhoozer 2005, p. 48). rethinking transformational leadership 329

Th is means that the Christian leader is more than an inspiring moti- vator, or skilful teacher; he or she must be seen as a dramatic director who helps people to understand and enact the Biblical script, in a specifi c context. In this process ethically inspiring imagoes seem to play a crucial role in the late modern context. I will suggest that both churches, to some degree, turn ethics into a form of visionary living. Unlike rules, imagoes call for creative imagination in order to be applied. Th is function is demonstrated in Brittany’s account of how Clarke’s teaching on ‘being the friend you want to have’ stimulated imagination, or if one likes, a kind of ethical poetry that changed her inner conversation and enabled her to act in new ways. Imagoes co-exist with rules and principles, but this form of intellectual stimulation may also be seen in relation to the ‘new’ centred structure. Both churches, and in particular Pinsekirken, seem to off er a combination of proximity and suffi cient refl ective space. Centred organisations give little power to each member in terms of infl uencing corporate policies. On the other hand, they allow more individual ‘freedom’ in terms of personal policies and refl exive individuality. In contrast, an egalitarian game that depends on an agreement among all ‘insiders’ may be more dependent on rules.

Practice Dynamic Leadership – ‘Organizing for Eff ective and Aesthetic Execution’ Visionary and practice dynamic leadership should not be confl ated, since practice dynamic leadership also requires well organisied ‘execution’ that show rather than tell. As Earnest’s story vividly demonstrates, visionary narratives are far more powerful when they can be ‘seen’ and embodied through concrete practices. Firstly, on an organisational level, task orientated and performance dynamic leadership includes strategic prioritising of resources in order to generate more resources, and organisational learning in terms of refl ection on the effi ciency of methods, in the light of the overarching vision. We have also seen that practice dynamic leadership includes forms of aesthetic contextualisation, in terms of music genres and graphic profi les that result in excellent performance.

Performance Empowering Leadership Secondly, from the perspective of the participant, performance dynamic leadership can be understood as empowering leadership. Leadership 330 chapter eleven that enables agency power8 has been demonstrated in Brittany, Earnest and Marcus’ stories, and includes facilitation of practices, a large degree of delegation, training, encouragement of risk taking and initiative, followed up by emotional support and various degrees of mentoring and coaching.9 At this point, it may be reasonable to suggest that Bass’s term ‘intellectual stimulation’ seems somewhat narrow. Intellectual stimulation is only one part of a process that may be described by Kouzes and Posner (2007) as ‘enabling people to act’.

Hosting Transformation - Indirect and Direct Relational Leadership Th e analyses in previous chapters have shown that relational qualities stand out as one of single most important reasons, if not as the most important reason, for identifying with a church. Interestingly, close signifi cant others seem to be more important than the organisation’s staff as attractive role models. Moreover, my analyses also suggest that proximate relationships have dynamics of their own that may create self-transcendent commitments. Th e importance of empathy in the transformational process has recently been confi rmed by a missiological study (Miller 2009). Seen together, these fi ndings might suggest that one of the most important processes that produces identifi cation and commitment takes place outside of the organisational centre, in the ‘close periphery’. Th is does not necessarily imply generic priority, since these processes are also related to visionary teaching and practice facilitation that take place in the centre, yet it might imply that indirect relational leadership is extremely important, in terms of facilitating identifi cation with the organisation.

Role Models and Relational Leadership as Indirect and Gendered Th ere are at least three basic elements involved in this infl uence process: role models that possess relational qualities, the facilitation of relevant and ‘user-friendly’ social practices, and the empowerment of personal initiative. Th e fi rst process, or what Bass calls ‘ideal infl uence’, may

8 From motivational theory one may label this achievement motivation, see McAdams 2006, pp. 279 ff . 9 It seems to include both what the organisational psychologists Conger and Kanungo (1998, see also Kanungo and Mendonca 1996, pp. 61 ff .) call ‘relational empowerment’ in terms of providing delegated authority, and ‘motivational empowerment’ in terms of providing skills and psychological trust that increase peoples’ ability to act. rethinking transformational leadership 331 also be a two- or three-stage process that begins with direct leadership identifi cation in the centre. Brittany’s leader identifi es with Gary Clarke, in turn Brittany identifi es with her leaders, and so on. Such virtuous leadership is not only performed ‘in front of’, but ‘in relation to’ the follower. Th is study has also shown that role model identifi cation is gendered to a signifi cant degree. Even though females identify with both men and women in the material, whereas men seem to identify primarily with men, one may ask if the importance of female role models and female leadership styles is an underestimated variable when men refl ect on ecclesial identifi cation and church growth. Female leaders and role models seem in particular to take responsibility for the most important dimension of identifi cation in this study, namely the relational qualities. In Pinsekirken, it was the only female pastor who led the small groups division. In chapter three, we saw that Hillsong’s commitment script was somewhat gendered, and it is Bobbie Houston who has written the book on the church and its relational nature as a healthy family. Th is might also imply that women lead diff erently from men. Th e female respondent in Copenhagen who frankly said that men had a tendency to ‘use their elbows more than women’, seems to propose that females may lead with more consideration. If this is correct, it seems obvious that a more sensitive female style is crucial in relation to ecclesial communalists. Th is contrast should not, however, be drawn too sharply, fi rstly because men also may appear as caring and sensitive fathers, as the senior pastor appears in the story of Marcus. Secondly, because females also may appear as Th eo-dramatic entrepreneurs (Linda), Spirit- led servants (Sara), or meta-thinking life artists (Debbie, in part). All of these groups may appear to be what Bobbie Houston calls ‘whatever-it- takes women’, who master more than one leadership style. Female leadership, in a variety of forms, seems to be particularly important in the surrounding sphere of the late modern Free Church, the sphere where most interaction actually takes place, and in ‘female spheres’ like the Women’s conference. Possibly more innovative in relation to transformational leadership theory is the fi nding that couples identify with couples, meaning that people not only identify with male or female virtues, exposed in the life of given individuals, they also identify with the relational qualities that are exposed in the interaction that takes place in the dyad. Th is perspective may be expanded to the whole 332 chapter eleven community and this might imply that ‘ideal’ infl uence not only includes attributed leadership behaviour, but also participant-participant relations, as well as ‘community attribution’.

‘User-Friendly’ Social Practices Th e second element includes small groups and other mid-size events, like cultural happenings in Pinsekirken, and pub-size events in Hillsong. Th e small groups may have particular importance since they are arenas for, and ways of, developing the relational qualities. Other social events function as points of contact, before people are ready to enter the small group. My fi rst social contacts in Hillsong were made during a ‘wine and cheese party’ for people over 35, in which the main activity was mingling. Th is creates a kind of social space that gives individuals freedom to manoeuvre themselves into relationships and to choose a small group, rather than just being placed in one. Th irdly, both churches emphasise that participants should take responsibility for themselves and the people in their world. It is the small group of friends that carries the main responsibility for counselling, although the centre may call in professional assistance in special cases. Critically, one may ask how this kind of social freedom works for a person who lacks social skills and initiative, yet the few observations I made in the life-groups seem to indicate that life-group leaders and other members actively tried to include ‘shy’ participants. Caring leaders may both help and empower people who struggle socially, as Brittany’s story demonstrates. Th e decisive moment in the process of empowerment happened as she decided to ‘involve’ herself in the life of her group members, beyond her formally prescribed obligations. Such decisions are morphogenetic in nature. As one refl ects upon one’s own actions, one identifi es oneself as a ‘caretaker’ that ‘takes ownership’ in the church through participation. Overall then, people ‘produce’ the relationships they identify with.

Confl icts and Confl ict Management Above we have seen that theology, spirituality and diff ering aesthetic preferences can produce confl icts or tensions. It might follow that confl ict management is an under-analysed theme in Bass ’s theory of transformational leadership. Th is is particularly important if one sees the church through the theological image of atonement. Th is image may overcome the individualistic way of resolving confl icts by withdrawal. Leaders should therefore embrace and include the other, regardless of rethinking transformational leadership 333 whether or not the other shares their conception of the common good, and respect the other’s right to resist or follow.10 Transformational leadership, in the form of ‘building culture’, is obviously a form of confl ict-preventive leadership, but confl icts nevertheless arise. Interestingly, confl icts were more openly admitted and referred to by participants in the centre of the organisation than in the periphery. In Hillsong, where I spent relatively little time in the centre, confl icts were oft en interpreted in terms of ‘a growth plot’, and seen as tensions resulting from growth. In Pinsekirken, confl icts and tensions were in general addressed even more openly, and this refl ects the kind of transparency and honesty that I found in the staff . Th ese confl icts also included ‘constructive confrontations’, as we saw in Marcus’ story. I will suggest that confl icts in these churches take shape depending on where the relevant people are located. Th e small ‘egalitarian groups’ are vulnerable to confl icts emerging from diff erent forms of interpersonal domination, since attention is an important aspect of life-sharing, and may be regarded as a kind of ‘expressive power’ or freedom to express oneself.11 It follows that both leaders and participants must learn how to handle both confl icts and dominating persons. In the centre, several confl icts may arise. Some latent theological- sociological confl ict themes, such as that of gender and power-structure, were dealt with through long-term discussion since this, at least for key insiders, is a question about stewardship of the Christian tradition. Inter- personal confl icts, as a result of competition, may also arise. Th e most critical confl icts may nevertheless involve commitment. Brian Houston (2004) openly admits that he feels threatened when key co-workers ‘lose

10 For the conception of inclusion, see Volf (1996). In Jesus’ thinking (Matt. 5: 43–48), altruistic love also includes ‘ the enemy’, who does not accept the vision of one’s own community. Th us, a Th eo-dramatically valid vision of leadership must also include and embrace the other (Volf 1996) who chooses not follow, both in terms of dialogue and concern. 11 Since relational individualist and proximity communitarians are on a ‘journey’ towards selfh ood and self-worth, including practices of both fi nding and expressing oneself, the drama of life-sharing can develop into an oft en subtle confl ict of attention. As Bellah noticed: ‘Th erapeutic relationships gravitate towards the asymmetrical, one person speaks while others listen’ (Bellah 2008 et al., p. 122). Heelas and Woodhead rightly repudiate the notion that every expressive individualism, and practices of relational individualism, should be equated with narcissism (see Heelas and Woodhead 2005, pp. 98 ff ). Nonetheless, one should not overlook that this type of close relationship also may become an arena for narcissistic domination (see also Lasch 1979). It is also possible that Heelas and Woodhead fail to demonstrate that this form of individualism relies more on ‘external sources’ than it admits (see Henriksen 2005). 334 chapter eleven their focus’ and start focusing on ‘other things’, such as investments that divert their engagement from the church. I will suggest that this type of confl ict, also exemplifi ed by Marcus’ story, is archetypical in Free Churches, since they, like other voluntary organisations, depend to a signifi cant degree on leadership by example, also in terms of commitment as a sense of urgency.

Beyond Secular Leadership Th eory – Integrating Spirituality Th e most obvious diff erence between transformational leadership theory and my study is the importance ascribed to spirituality. People’s relation to the sacred, which in my material is the Christian God, stands forth as their most important commitment. I will suggest that forms of spiritual leadership are essential to ecclesial leadership to the degree that one should consider spiritual leadership the primary concept, and transformational leadership the secondary. Th is follows from two reasons. Firstly, from a theological perspective, spiritual leadership in the sense of centring or integrating everything around God can be considered the primary and ultimate goal of all leadership. Secondly, God is also the primary source of authority, and the fi rst task of leadership is therefore to relate to him through the means of grace in the Spirit. Charisma then is primarily a relation, and only secondarily a ‘possession’ of gift s.12 In an ecclesial setting, spirituality seems to relate to transformational leadership in at least two ways. Firstly, it is leadership that provides rituals, teaching and refl exivity that facilitate interaction with the sacred. Secondly, it is also integrative in the sense that it seeks to bring all of life into this interaction, in terms of what I have called collective centring.

12 In my view, one should resist the tendency in the Weberian tradition of charismatic leadership theory (and its application in transformational leadership theory), to see the charismatic leader as a person who ‘possesses’ or even monopolises charisma. To some degree this is a valid empirical perspective. Th e transformational leader has a vision, and may demonstrate ethical virtues and extraordinary capabilities, or is at least be perceived to do so, by his followers. From a theological perspective, representative authority is, however, only half of the story. Both gift s of the Spirit (extraordinary capabilities) and fruits of the Spirit (virtues) are primarily seen as qualities of the Holy Spirit, given to individuals in order to build up the church as a community (1 Cor. 12:4–11; Eph. 4:11– 12). Th e charismatic leader is called to be fi lled with the Spirit, and yields to this empowering presence in prayer and petition (see Fee 1994, 2000). Th e leader is accountable to the giver of ‘charisma’, and should therefore be seen as a servant or steward rather than as a master of his charisma. It follows, as Robert Banks suggests, that ‘faithfulness’ rather than excellence becomes the key virtue for Christian leaders (Banks 2001). rethinking transformational leadership 335

Indirect leadership in terms of facilitating contextualised spiritual encounters seems to be the most important form of spiritual leadership in the material. We have seen that worship seems to be the most important type of ritual in both churches. However, other rituals, such as baptism, the Lord’s Supper, laying on hands and praying for the sick also continue to be practised. In both churches, and in particular in Hillsong, small groups are also empowered to perform such rituals. At this point Miller might be empirically right, when he suggests that many New Paradigm churches in practice become multi-centred. From a Pentecostal perspective, this is obviously an interesting development. Further exploration will be needed, however, on how this form of delegation should be facilitated in terms of training, mentoring and structural supervision. Teaching and preaching is the most obvious and most important form of direct spiritual leadership in terms of follower commitment. At this point, Houston and Clarke’s roles as church planters and cultural archi- tects may come close to the kind of leadership that Jackson Caroll defi nes as ‘representing the sacred’.13 Th e imagoe of a representative is nevertheless ‘democratised’ in both churches, in the sense that every individual may see him- or herself as a representative of the kingdom.

Leadership as Integrative Action – Refl ection in the Spirit It is obvious that the concept of the church as a centre requires that the church itself is integrated. Th e question is: Integrated by what? All the dimensions of leadership described above may potentially be the single dominant mode of integration. As Protestants, however, both churches see themselves as Bible-based, and for this reason they seek, as we have seen above, to be integrated through a Bible-based teaching, or a Bible- based vision that is integrated by sola scriptura as a practice.14 Th us, although Houston abstains from using the apostolic title, this study also demonstrates, as Wagner suggests, that visionary and entrepreneurial

13 In his classic study of ecclesial leadership, Jackson Carrol goes far in seeing the pastor as a representative of the sacred, although he distinguishes between two theological versions. Th e fi rst, Catholic version, invests what Weber called charismatic authority in the cleric, and sees him as a sacramental person (or Th eotokos). Th e second, Protestant version, agrees that ordained people have a special relationship to God, but sees this more in terms of being a role model of holiness or sanctity (Carrol 1991, pp. 45–48). 14 Th is study has also shown that visions seem to be more important than creeds, in terms of inspiring Bible-based living. For this reason it may also be useful to employ Kevin Vanhoozer’s (2005) categories, and suggest that it is better to speak about Th eo- dramatic integration than systematic-theological integration. 336 chapter eleven leadership is very important, since it is ‘synoptic’ leadership that integrates the organisation. However, in Pinsekirken, leadership also includes ‘public refl ection’ in the church meeting. From this, one might suggest that ecclesial leadership essentially is a matter of integrative action-refl ection, or to put it diff erently, it is a matter of what Steven Land and Cheryl Johns call action-refl ection in the Spirit (see Land 1993, ch. 1; Johns 1993). From a Pentecostal perspective, one might ask if the church should also be integrated by its interaction with God in prayer and other rituals, including openness to gift s of the Spirit. Interpreted through Steven Land’s terminology, this may be seen as a search for an integration of ortho-doxy and ortho-praxis, through ortho-pathy.

Figure 12. Transformational ecclesial leadership rethinking transformational leadership 337

Questions About Leadership and Structure Th e churches provide somewhat diff erent answers to how social structures should contribute to this process. In Hillsong, Th eo-dramatic action refl ection regarding organisational performance primarily takes place within the leadership domain, whereas in Pinsekirken, the congregation is more involved, even though this process is challenged by the development of a more centred structure. An extensive debate on church government cannot be performed here. However, as a relatively traditional Scandinavian Pentecostal, I will suggest that late modern churches should seek to facilitate forms of shared theological refl ections, and shared decision – making in the local church. I accept that the church is structured fundamentally diff erent than a non- for profi t organisation or a liberal democratic society. Acts 15 demonstrates that tradition, offi ces and the particular presence of the Spirit, may give the Christian discourse a particular shape (Th omas 2000). However, regardless of how much authority that is invested in elders, pastors or bishops, Acts 15 and Paul’s letters (see Banks 1994, ch.13) indicates that the Apostles and other Christian leaders performed their possibly unique form of ‘theological rationality’ in dialogue with the local congregation, whose lives were aff ected by the issues discussed. Th e interesting question from the perspective of the Scandinavian Pentecostal tradition is therefore whether one can facilitate a signifi cant degree of ‘participative leadership’ in the ‘centred model’ as well. Th is might be a vital question that deserves further investigation in future studies.

Th eological Leadership as Critical and Th eo-Dramatic Contextualisation Since the church is located within a context of confl icting horizon narratives, action refl ection in the Spirit also includes what missiologist Paul Hiebert calls critical contextualisation (1994, pp. 88–92). Put very simply, one might suggest that Hillsong’s teaching and practice can be viewed as an attempt to contextualise the gospel within the stream of global culture that might be called utilitarian individualism. It is beyond the scope of this study to consider whether this attempt is suffi ciently critical, on a general level.15 However, regarding the dimensions studied

15 Shane Clift on suggests that the Australian AOG has succeeded in terms of creating church growth, but partly failed, in terms of maintaining theological integrity: ‘Critical refl ection has been eschewed, and the result has been the unquestioned adoption of the 338 chapter eleven in this study, Hillsong seems to presents an ecclesial model of life that clearly transcends the individualistic horizon of utilitarian individualism. Th e church transcends a purely individualistic prosperity teaching. Due to its ecclesial focus and vision of social activism, I will suggest Hillsong is moving towards what Miller and Yamamori (2007) in a recent study call ‘progressive Pentecostalism’, although the church off ers a contextualised form of Pentecostalism.16 An important question is whether the church will move further in this direction by off ering public refl ections on how the church and the late modern consumer should respond to the challenges of global warming and the possibility of ecological disaster. Pinsekirken seems to contextualise the biblical message of discipleship into a culture more infl uenced by expressive individualism, or what Gundelach and his colleagues have identifi ed as Danish ‘collective individualism’. Th e church story seems to be sensitive to the relational and spiritual themes of the Danish context, but it does confront both the alternative theology of ‘reincarnation’ and the ‘ethics of authenticity’ present in the same culture. More importantly, it also provides a Th eo- centric rather than anthropocentric life script for seekers. Th us, there is a form of critical contextualisation taking place in this church, as well, although it lacks some of the ecclesial imagoes off ered by Hillsong. One of Pinsekirken’s more exemplary traits is the combination of a Th eo- centric life script and the degree of refl ective space it provides.

Th e Model, Existing Leadership Th eory, and Further Studies Th e systemic model above off ers four meta-categories of leadership, instead of Yukl’s three (2001), the main diff erence being that spirituality is included. Most students of sociology and organisational psychology will probably resist my proposal of an integration of leadership theory into theology, rather than vice versa. Th is is understandable, since they move into the inter-disciplinary dialogue from traditions with diff erent premises and purposes (See appendix A). Nevertheless, I hope that elements from this study also might be picked up and integrated into existing traditions of charismatic and transformational leadership theory. Th e importance of the follower’s mode of inner conversation in the prosperity doctrine, which derives from Word of Faith infl uences and the syncretistic tendencies coinciding with the relentless pursuit of “relevance” ’ (Clift on 2005, p. 285). 16 Both Clift on (2005) and Cheng and Payne (2007) observe that classic ‘Pentecostal distinctives’ are downplayed. rethinking transformational leadership 339 process of individual consideration is a fi nding that might be particularly useful for existing theory, and should therefore inspire more studies in other contexts. Th e systemic model would certainly also benefi t from further theoretical investigation, and from empirical studies in both Western and non-Western contexts. Although it defi nitively could be improved in terms of design and methods, this study is indeed replicable in other contexts.

A Final Word on Further Application

Further studies in historical and systematic disciplines are necessary to test and develop the model. I will nevertheless hope that practising theologians of all kinds, including pastors and laymen, might see the study as an asset for practice and refl ection. Th is raises a fi nal question about how a ‘phronetic’ theology should employ empirical fi ndings in strategic practical theology. Th e Greek word for transformation, metamorphosis, occurs in Rom. 12:1–3 where Paul exhorts the readers to have their minds transformed, in order to perform better judgements, and this is elsewhere specifi cally explained as transformation grounded in the church’s encounter with Christ through the Gospel and the Spirit (2 Cor. 3:17–18). Th is implies that the fi ndings (re-) discovered in this study should not, or at least not only, be employed instrumentally as a principle for church growth. It should primarily be taken as an impetus towards a search for a spiritual refl ection and transformation, facilitated by an encounter with, and participation in, the relational qualities of the Trinitarian God, as Paul says (1 Cor. 2:9–10a): What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived, these things God has prepared for those who love him, for God has revealed them to us by his Spirit. Th e Spirit searches all things.17 Th e relational qualities that emerge from the Trinitarian God are not means of ‘communicating the gospel in a relevant way’. Th ey are an intrinsic part of the gospel, and any leader who wants to avoid the instrumentalist fallacy should therefore daily turn to the face of God to be transformed to his image. Th us, this study, which began with a story, should therefore preferably continue as a prayer. Glory to the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, One true God from eternity to eternity.

17 TNIV appendix a

EPISTOMOLOGICAL ISSUES: THEOLOGY, CRITICAL REALISM AND THE SOCIAL SCIENCES

Th e research design employed in this study is inspired by Don Browning ’s model of a fundamental practical theology and Robert Bellah’s model of phronetic sociology.1 Th is model of theology is fi rst and foremost practical. It proposes that theological research arises from theory-laden practices, implying that modes of application are present in theological inquiry from its beginning.2 Browning suggests the inner ‘core’ of theology can be seen as practical wisdom or phronenis exercised in concrete practices (Browning 1996, pp. 5–10). Concrete practices are (1) made up of practices with rules and roles, (2) motivated by needs and tendencies, (3) limited and channelled by social–systemic and ecological constraints at a sociological level, and (4) ordered by principles of obligation. Th is core of practical theology is surrounded by what Browning calls an ‘outer envelope’ of (5) visional stories, embedded in a tradition: Th e outer envelope of practical reason is its fund of inherited narratives and practices that the traditions has delivered to us and that always sur- round our practical thinking (Browning 1996, p. 11). Although this focus on moral practices is too narrow in terms of defi n- ing practical theology in general (see Anderson 2001, pp. 26–30)3, I fi nd the model useful as a point of departure for this particular study. A fundamental practical theology has much in common with the emerging fi eld called phronetic4 social science (see Flyvbjerg 2001).

1 Bellah 2008 et al.; Browning 1996. Browning’s work has been called a classic in Practical theology, see Anderson 2001, p. 26, and Cartledge 2003. 2 Th is model challenges the modernist model of theology, in which biblical and systematic theology are the foundational sub-disciplines of theology, whereas practical theology is reduced to application, aft er the ‘real work’ has been done (Cartledge 2003, pp. 2–3). 3 Ray Anderson has correctly suggested that Browning ’s model lacks a robust Christological conception in the core of practical theology. To put it diff erently, Christ appears in the eyes of the theological beholder, rather than in the core of actual ecclesial practices (e.g. Browning 1996, p. 189). 4 Aristotle described phronesis as the intellectual virtue that provides men with moral judgement and practical value rationality. It requires an interaction between analytical 342 appendix a

Robert Bellah (2008 et al., pp. 297–304) resists the idea that sociology is an exercise in technical reason (or what Aristotle called techne), designed to fi nd means to fulfi l arbitrary human desires. Instead Bellah envisions sociology as both a moral and technical discipline, designed to establish both the ethical ends of the good society and ethical ways of achieving those ends. It follows that sociology should ask ‘phronetic questions’ such as: How ought we to live? How do we think about how to live? (Bellah 2008 et al., p. xli). Bernt Flyvbjerg mainly adhere to Bellah’s model, but advancing a more confl ict-sociological conception, he moves on and asks questions about power: ‘Who gains and who loses, and by which mechanism of power?’ (Flyvbjerg 2001, p. 131). Th is study is mainly inspired by Bellah and more orientated towards ecclesial integration, than towards confl ict, but I nevertheless return to Flyvbjerg’s ‘power questions’ in the aft erword (see above).

Hermeneutics within a Critical Realist Epistemology Secondly, a fundamental practical theology is also hermeneutical. Hermeneutics, as I understand it, means both the art and theory of interpretation, and a philosophy that starts with questions of interpretation,5 claiming that knowledge in general is based on ‘phronetic’ judgements (See Stiver 2001, p. 42). Following Kevin Vanhoozer (2005), I will suggest that the miracle of understanding takes place when a person is able to relate experience of the world or an account of another person’s horizon to his or her own horizon, so that a fusion or expansion of horizons take place.6 Interpretations of the world begin from, and are both enabled and delimited by, the interpreter’s prior understanding. All research disciplines, not only theology, have (1) a focus or a topic, and (2) a horizon or a tradition that continues to infl uence their perceptions (Browning 1996, p. 9). I agree with Browning, who suggests that practical reason is hermeneutical performance located in a historical context, yet simultaneously moving backwards and forwards. It moves rationality (episteme) and the concrete and experiential, and it includes choice, consideration, judgement and experience, see My reading of the Nicomachean Ethics (Th is reading of Aristotle depends heavily on Flyvbjerg 2001, ch. 5). 5 In the sense that it views interpretation as intrinsic to human being in the world. Man is what Charles Taylor calls a self-interpreting animal (see Taylor 1985a). Humankind is, in this sense, condemned to live in what Gadamer called the hermeneutical circle. One’s understanding of the world as a whole is established by reference to the parts of the world and vice versa. 6 Th is interpretation of Gadamer (2004) follows Vanhoozer (2005, pp. 327–331). epistomological issues 343 backwards in the sense of examining the classical monuments that have formed our horizon, and forwards in the sense of testing the adequacy of this witness to our experience, our present situation, and the future. My hermeneutical approach however, is therefore not anti-realist in epistemological terms. Although knowledge is based on intepretation, one may still maintain a form of ontology in the sense that we belive that what we intepret are realities beyond ourselves (Wright 1992, p.62). Th e idea that reality can ‘talk back’ and change our interpretative horizon through our experiences is best apprehended within the epistemological paradigm of critical realism. Critical realism holds three basic assumptions according to Margaret Archer , Douglas Propora and Andrew Collier (2004).7 Th e fi rst is ontological realism.8 Th e second is a moderate epistemic relativism that rejects the foundationalist idea of a ‘view from nowhere’, acknowledging that diff erent pre-understandings of the world are theory-laden, value-laden, and conditioned by social and historical power relations. Simultaneously it rejects the ‘epistemic fallacy’ that collapses ontology into epistemology. Instead, critical realism makes a distinction between the transitive and the intransitive dimension of knowledge.9 Th us, this study employs hermenutic methods witin a critical realist epistemology. Finally, this means that we can perform judgemental rationality in the sense of ‘publicly discussing reality as we think it is’, and ‘marshals better or worse arguments for our claims’ (Archer et al. 2004, p. 2).

Critical Realism and ‘Trans- Traditional’, or ‘Trans- Contextual’ Rationality It is beyond the scope of this study to provide an in- depth answer to how such a dialogue can or should be performed. In general I will suggest that a model of interdisciplinary rationality in an academic context should begin with the rational agent. By rational agent I do not mean the atomistic self- maximizing protagonist described in economic

7 See Archer et al. 2004; Browning 1996, p. 179. Th eologically, I follow McGrath 2004 and Wright 1992, pp. 35–36, see also Vanhoozer 2005, pp. 301–305. 8 Obviously, there is a degree of diff erence between relatively ‘brute facts’ in the realm of natural science and emerging ‘social facts’ that to a larger degree are products of human interaction, yet most socially constructed realities also possess certain qualities that cannot be ‘wished away as we encounter them’. See McGrath 2004, pp. 137–138. See also Berger and Luckmann 1967, p.13. 9 Th e fi rst refers to our knowledge claims about the world, the second to objects of knowledge apart from us, see Archer et al. 2004, pp. 2–3. 344 appendix a versions of rational choice theory. Th e rational agent is, in my view, enabled to understand the world by being embedded in a value- rational tradition or a value- dependent academic tradition. He or she is nevertheless not determined by this tradition to the degree that she or he cannot engage in trans- contextual or ‘trans- traditional ’ dialogue, with other scientists from other disciplines. Th is is possible for two reasons, (1) we are discussing relatively mind- independent realities (Archer et al. 2004, McGrath 2002), and (2) diff erent traditions may share resources of human rationality despite levels of incommensurability10 (Van Huyssteen 1999, McGrath 2004). Procedures of conversation as well as standards of rationality are, in my view, relative to the purpose of a given dialogue, to the problem under investigation, and to the diff erent traditions that researchers carry along as they engage in a specifi c dialogue (see Flyvbjerg 2001, Osmer 2006).11 Th e purpose of this study is to provide an intelligible and truthful description of certain ecclesial practices in order to provide ground for subsequent theological refl ection. I also seek to enable inter- discipli- nary dialogue, by clarifying my ‘fi rst horizon’, by clarifying my methods and criteria of validity, by diff erentiating between diff erent phases in the analyses, and by seeking to present my empirical and theological arguments with as much clarity and transparency as possible. Like Archer (2004 et al.) and Van Huyssteen (1999) I do not see consensus as premise for rationality. Th is means that other researchers may approach this study in fruitful disagreement, with regard to both my standards of rationality and my empirical conclusion.

Critical Realism and the Possibility of God as an Acting Agent in Ecclesial Practices At this point it might be useful to comment on one particular problem that arises as a Pentecostal- charismatic theologian enters into interdisciplinary dialogue with social scientists. Th at is the problem of

10 For a discussion of incommensurability in scientifi c theology, see Van Huyssteen (1999) and McGrath (2004, ch. 8), who off er models of assessing and handling moderate incommensurability. 11 In most cases both procedures and criteria for truth and rationality must therefore be clarifi ed and negotiated during the conversation. In this process the diff erent researchers may also account for the existence of their tradition, as well as for the existence of rival traditions (see McGrath 2004). epistomological issues 345 whether a descriptive scientifi c study may suggest that God can be the ‘object of ’, or perhaps better, a transcendent agent that generates religious experiences in, ecclesial practices. Th is is problematic in relation to social scientifi c theory, since both ‘methodological agnostics’ and ‘methodological atheists’, bracket out the ‘object’ of religious experience in their study of Christian practices. Some refuse to see congregational practices as more than ‘texts’ or ‘discourses’. It follows that most social scientists accept ‘God- talk’ at the ‘emic’ level (of respondents), but not at the ‘etic’ level of theoretical analysis. Instead, they follow Durkheim and explain ‘the experience of God’ as the experience of group feeling and shared symbols (see Archer et al. 2004, ch.1). For purposes inherent to the social sciences this might be useful, but not for theologians. Th e most fundamental problem is that the transcendent relation beyond ‘the text’ disappears. God is rather a symbol or a ‘sign in relation’ - to other variables that produces human aff ections and practices. In other words, if the theologian accepts these premises, she may be deprived of the living Th eos with a capital T, and theology is reduced to a sub- discipline of linguistics or cultural anthropology.12 Th e critical realist sociologists Margaret Archer and Douglas Propora, as well as the philosopher Andrew Collier (2004, pp. 22–28), represent an interesting alternative to this reductionist path. Th ey suggest that God, within a critical realist paradigm, may be seen as a possible source of religious experience, since this paradigm sees the world as an open system. Simultaneously, they maintain that such experiences, like other experiences, are ‘fallible’ and conditioned (but not determined)‘ by received opinions’, and should be ‘subject to criticism at the bar of reason, suspicion and explanatory critique’ (2004, p. 26). Another proposal by Donald Miller and Tetsunao Yamamori (2007, pp. 219–221) is equally interesting. Miller and Yamamori are sociologists at the University of Southern California, who, faced with Pentecostal phenomena, have come to the conclusion that the social sciences may benefi t from speaking about certain aspects of this spirituality in terms of the ‘S-factor’. Th ey abstain from making the claim that this factor ‘is not permeated with human desire and projection, cultural elements or

12 Obviously, models of Christian meta- narrative realism (Lindbeck 1984, Milbank 2006) may represent an alternative form of integration, but these fails to provide adequate models of interdisciplinary dialogue (see McGrath 2004, see also Archer et al. 2004.) 346 appendix a social class infl uence’. Yet, partly for grounds of parsimony, they suggest that it might useful to assume that there may be ‘something more’ that animates or ‘operate[s] in’ Pentecostal communities: In part we assert the potential reality of the S factor on the simple grounds of parsimony – it more easily explains certain phenomena than the reign- ing paradigms of psychoanalysis, Jungian thought, Marxism, functional- ism, among others… (Miller and Yamamori 2007, p. 219) It is worth noticing that Miller and Yamamori do not identify this S-factor as the Christian God. It is rather presented as a provisional or ‘potential’ reality, and thus, in my view, not incompatible with less reductionist forms of ‘open systems agnosticism. Th ese suggestions are obviously attractive, from the perspective of theologians that believe in God’s ‘particular presence ‘in certain ecclesial practices (Volf 1998, Anderson 2001). For Pentecostals, like myself, this includes ‘the administration of word and sacraments’, but also more immediate and pre- linguistic ‘Spirit – encounters’, as these are described in the Bible (e.g. 1. Cor 14, 26–27, Rom. 8,26). I will nevertheless maintain that one should distinguish between ‘emic’ and ‘etic’ perspectives in social analyses, and between descriptive and systematic theology. Th ese distinctions are fruitful for two reasons. Firstly, since religious experiences are fallible, one should be very cautious about making conclusions about ‘the S – factor’ in the descriptive phase of theology. ‘Candidature’ for God-encounters or ‘the S- factor’ might be suggested by descriptive theology, but conclusions can only be reached aft er some form of systematic theological discernment that includes both historical and systematic theological analyses, as well as an evaluation of alternative explanations. Secondly, by maintaining that reports of ‘Spirit- encounters’ fi rst should be viewed as ‘emic’ accounts, it is also possible to sustain some form of common ground in the interdisciplinary dialogue. Th e notion of interdisciplinary dialogue that was presented above implies that the theologian in some cases may consider a psychological or sociological explanation as the most plausible alternative. However the same conception of interdisciplinary dialogue also allows the theologian to re-enter the dialogue in a ‘second phase’ of description, aft er the systematic theological analysis has been carried out, and make public claims about the active presence of the Triune God in Christian practices, and about both the fallibility of, and the probability of God encounters in specifi c cases. epistomological issues 347

A Participative Hermeneutics Th e hermeneutics employed in this study is participatory in at least two senses. In terms of research strategy, the main diff erence between technical and hermeneutic social science is that the latter seeks to establish moral rather than instrumental relationships with those who are studied. Th is leads to a research design where the researcher seeks to engage the respondents in active dialogue. Following the example of Bellah and his colleagues, I will seek to engage in dialogue with respondents, asking questions based on my research questions, that in turn are rooted in the basic ‘phronetic’ questions: How ought we to live? How do we think about how to live? (Bellah 2008 et al., p. xli). In terms of epistemology, this means that the social theory I develop in this study, at least partly, emerges from social practices in which I participate. I acknowledge that there is a constant ‘slippage’ from the language of the social sciences to the words of lay participants (Giddens 1984, p. 374). Trying to understand this intersection of meaning frames, or what Anthony Giddens calls ‘double hermeneutics’, is therefore an integrated part of the hermeneutical approach of this study. As a participating observing researcher I will move between two extreme positions. Th e fi rst will be close to that of the pure observer who also may draw on ‘trans-contextual perspectives’ from the social sciences, providing a certain analytical distance. Th e second will draw closer to the ‘emic’ view of the pure ‘native’ participant, providing experiences of both explicit and implicit knowledge embedded in the lifeworld under study. In this model, knowledge does not only emerge in the position of scientifi c observer, knowledge is rather created in a constructive critical and dialectic movement between the two poles.13

13 At this point it might be fruitful to make an analytical distinction between myself as participant, which might be studied as ‘object’, and myself as observing analyst, which may be critiqued from the participant position. Th is obviously challenges the privileged position of the observer, common in social scientifi c traditions that are infl uenced by positivism. I will suggest that there are forms of knowledge that are better, or perhaps exclusively, achieved through participation, and modes of trust. Th is applies to subtle meaning on the linguistic level, and more importantly to ‘tacit’ knowledge, embedded in practices. Here the researcher learns ‘knowledge in action’ by developing a feel for practices and for implicit ‘truths’ embedded in skills and relationships (see Flyvbjerg 2001, who also employs the so-called Dreyfus model). Th is also applies to forms of ‘critical’ knowledge; the researcher may develop an oft en somatic ‘feel’ for problems and confl icts that are not detected from the so- called critical positions of the observer. Th e problem with participant position, though, remains in the sense that it delimits one’s ability to 348 appendix a

What qualitative researchers call auto-ethnography is therefore more than a methodical device: it is fundamental to the process of mutual critical correlation between practice – the theory of local churches –, and the scientifi c practice – the theology of the academy. Browning suggests that practical theology has four hermeneutical sub-movements moving from concrete practices and then back to practice. Th ese are; descriptive theology, historical theology, systematic theology, and strategic practical theology (Browning 1996, p. 8). To this I will add that a practical theologian will move in a continuum between the positions of an ecclesial participant and an observing analyst, and that this requires an internal dialogue between oneself as an analysing observer and oneself as a participant14, as illustrated in the following model.

practice reflection Historical theology analyst

Practical theology

- process theology Systematic Systematic theoloogy Descriptive Descriptive

Strategic ecclesial practical participation theology

participant

Figure 13. Stages and positions in theological research

raise critical questions because one remains within the horizon of the life world. Here, it may be useful to employ a trans-contextual system or horizon, to raise critique and stimulate refl ection (see Cartledge 2003). 14 It means that, in the observer position, one has to objectify ‘oneself as a participant’ while moving between the poles. At the same time the participating ‘I’ may challenge and critique the critique of ‘the observing me’. For more on auto-ethnography, see Hammersley and Atkins 1987, pp. 37–47; 101–110, and Bryman 2004, pp. 301–304. epistomological issues 349

Th e primary objective of this study is not to provide an exhaustive critical normative evaluation of thes organisations studies, although this study potentially may provide grounds for further analyses in this direction. One can add that this descriptive stury is motivated by an explicit normative horizon. Th is means that this study is more critical than ‘pure’ church growth research, but its critical horizon is somewhat delimited by the focus on transformational and communitarian commitment. As a study of organisational contexts, this study may be seen as a study of social integration with affi nity, both in terms of focus and horizon, to the social scientifi c perspective that Gibson Burrell and Gareth Morgan somewhat critically call an ‘integrationist view’ of society, and that includes both interpretative and functionalist sociology (Burell and Morgan 1979, pp. 10–19).15 Th e key question regarding horizon, in my view, concerns whether identifi cation with a church fundamentally can be rooted in value-rational solidarity, or whether this kind of integration on a deeper level (always) is rooted in coercive or manipulative power. I begin from the theological premise that synergetic social peace is ontological prior to confl ict, and that ecclesial unity in the Spirit to some degree is feasible.16 Obviously, the ‘not yet’ of God’s salvation means that both the world and the church are affl icted by sin, implying that ‘shared values’ also may be abused by the will to power in the Nietzschean sense, or turn into ideology in a Marxist sense (see Flyvebjerg 2001, chs. 7–8). Th us, even though the starting point of this study has much in common with the ‘integrationist’ tradition of American leadership studies,17 I believe that practical theology should aspire to integrate insights from confl ict theory.18

15 Sociological paradigms have, according to Burrell and Morgan (1979), two key dimensions. Th e fi rst is the perceptions of the relationship between socio-cultural structures on one side, and that of human agency on the other. My position here coincides largely with that of Archer , though I will elaborate on Archer’s model throughout the study. Th e other dimension is the so-called ‘confl ict-order’ debate between ‘integrationist’ and ‘confl ict’ theorists. In a somewhat simplifi ed way, one might say that the latter views society primarily as an arena of confl icts that drive, change, dominate, and disin- tegrate – creating integration based on social coercion, whereas integrationists seek to understand order, cohesion, and integration based on shared values (see Burrell and Morgan 1979, ch. 2). 16 Th is premise is grounded in the biblical drama of creation, fall, and redemption. 17 Th ese studies challenge the ‘sociological ethos’, which seeks a guarantee of ending up with a ‘critical position’ towards what one is investigating (see Sørhaug 2004, p. 25). 18 From a theological perspective, it is tempting to seek to mediate between ‘an integrative sociology of creation’, and a more ‘confl ict oriented sociology of the fall’. 350 appendix a

For this reason, I will return to Flyvebjerg’s critical ‘power–questions’ in the fi nal chapter, although the scope of this debate will be limited due to the scope of this study.

Th is is, however, very problematic, since theorists like Burrell and Morgan will suggest that the social scientifi c paradigms that are dividing integrationists and confl ict theorist are incommensurable (Burrell and Morgan 1979, pp. 25; 36). To choose between these paradigmatic world-views is, as Milbank has pointed out, problematic. An underlying theological paradigm that is rooted in a theology of creation and redemption, viewing humankind as created in the image of God, and as potentially part of Trinitarian relations in the church, may identify more with ‘integrating sociology’ than with confl ict theory. Yet, Milbank will repudiate both traditions, and suggests that an adequate ‘link’ between ‘the individual and the whole’ can be found only within a theologically grounded conception of virtue ethics (Milbank 2006, p. 331 ff ). To pursue this debate exhaustively is, however, beyond the scope of this study. appendix b

METHODS AND MATERIAL

Th e Primary Method: Semi-Structured Interviews Material and Sampling of Respondents In terms of individual cases, I wanted to study people based on three criteria. (1) Because my focus is on late modern people, I wanted to study young adults between 20 and 45 years of age, who lived in a big city and had grown up in a European or Western context. (2) I also wanted to study both men and women in order to avoid gender- blindness, and (3) I wanted to study both people with a traditional Free Church background and new converts, since ‘native Free Church traditionalists’, like myself, might be considered ‘untypical’ in contexts infl u- enced by late modern individualisms.1 However, in practice, the actual sampling that took place was also infl uenced by the dynamics of the ‘snowball sampling’ that took place in the fi eld. I was introduced to new informants by my fi rst respondents, and so on. Since my fi rst respondents in Pinsekirken were pastors, this led to a more pastor-led sample in Pinsekirken, which also has a larger percentage of new converts. In the process I tried to balance my sample in relation to gender, and the issue of new converts versus Christians with a Free Church background. Th e latter process was more diffi cult since a third category of re-dedicators also showed up in the material. ‘Re-dedicators’ are people who at an earlier point have left the church, and then later recommitted to the church and its faith. Th e actual sample of primary cases is shown in the following tables.

1 I was primarily interested in people with a Western background, situated in post- Christian or post-traditional contexts (for religion and tradition in modern times, see Heelas and Woodhead 2000). It is well recognised that there are many growing churches, and especially growing Pentecostal churches, in the in the so-called ‘third world’ and that such churches also attract a growing number of ‘third world’ immigrants in the Western context. However, some have suggested that the growth of these churches can be related (amongst other variables) to pre-modern or traditional forms of religiosity, which partly correspond to, and partly are transformed by, Pentecostal spirituality (see Cox 1996). 352 appendix b

Table 5. Gender Church Hillsong Pinsekirken Senior leaders Informal interviews with Formal interview who serve as pastor and wife, with the pastor. context separately interviewed. In addition I informants In addition I conducted a short conducted a short ‘staff staff interview with interview’ with a another woman in female staff er. the pastoral team. Staff /leaders, who 2 males 2 males, 1 female also serve as primary cases Participants 3 males, 5 females 3 males, 4 females Total Respondents 5 males, 5 females 5 males, 5 females (10 respondents) (10 respondents)

Table 6. Religious background Church Hillsong Pinsekirken Senior leaders Not represented as Pastor not represented who serve as respondents. as respondent, context pastor’s wife informants. converted before she was involved in the church. Staff /leaders, who 1 man from a Free 1 ‘converted’ woman also serve as Church background 2 men from a Free primary cases 1 ‘converted’ man (in Church background. previous church) Participants 3 ‘converted women’ (2 d 4 converted women in Hillsong) 3 converted men 1 ‘rededication’ woman 1 woman from a Free Church background 1 ‘rededicated’ man 2 ‘from a Free Church background’ men methods and material 353

Table 6. (Cont.) Church Hillsong Pinsekirken Total Respondents 4 from a Free Church 2 from a Free Church background background (total 6 2 rededicated + 2 rededicators) 4 converts (2 in Hillsong 8 converts (total 12) context)

Designing and Performing the Interviews I spent most of my resources on planning and carrying out semi-structured interviews. I started by developing two interview guides, one for the primary informants who were the main cases of the study, and another supplementary one for the conversation with the senior pastor, or other staff who could provide formal data on the ecclesial ‘context cases’. In the process of designing and performing interviews I was guided by Steinar Kvale ’s model for a good interview as an ideal. According to Kvale, the following criteria defi ne a good interview (Kvale 1996, p. 145):

• Th e extent of spontaneous, rich, specifi c and relevant answers from the interviewee. • Th e shorter the interviewer’s questions and the longer the subject’s answers, the better. • Th e degree to which the interviewer follows up and clarifi es the meaning of the relevant aspects of the answers. • Th e ideal interview is to a large degree interpreted throughout the interview. • Th e interviewer attempts to verify his or her interpretation of the subject’s answers during the course of the interview. • Th e interview is ‘self communicating’ – there is a story contained in it that hardly requires much extra description and explanation.

Prior to each interview session I introduced the project and myself. Th e following interview was recorded, and aft er a de-briefi ng with the respondent, it was then transcribed by a research assistant, presented for comments to the respondent, and fi nally, analysed. It followed from my research questions that I needed to facilitate interviews that combined 354 appendix b two modes of conversation. In the fi rst narrative phase the respondents would tell their short version of their life story, and their relationship with the church. In the second phase, I asked clarifying questions about how this had aff ected their life and worldview. In the fi rst part, I took the role of a relatively passive facilitator, whereas in the second phase I would be more active and try to initiate a dialogue on relevant themes. Aft erwards, I also performed an analysis of the social interaction in the interview, to prepare the ground for further analyses.2

Supplementary Methods: Micro-Ethnography Participant Observation In general one might say that the strength of a multi-method study is that it gives the researcher the opportunity to use diff erent approaches and to adapt his or her methods to the complex nature of the fi eld. For this reason, I chose to supplement the interviews with elements of ‘micro-ethnography’.3 Over a period of 16 months in 2004–2005, I did short fi eld trips to perform participant observation in the two churches.4 My mode of research varied from complete observer to complete participant, depending on the accessibility of diff erent fi eld roles.5 During this time I made notes in two diff erent fi eld diaries which were supplemented by a third journal designated for refl ections on theory development and methods. In most cases, I wrote down ‘jotted notes’ as I observed an event and then tried to develop these into full fi eld notes the following day.6 Participating in church services and

2 Th is analysis was particularly important in the Danish context since all interviews were conducted in English. During the interview I asked clarifying questions in Danish, if the respondent found it hard to express himself in English. In the interaction – analyses, I tried to be particularly sensitive to misunderstandings that may have occurred because of language problems. 3 Classical ethnographic study is associated with long fi eld trips. Th us, what I have been doing in this project is probably better referred to as a form of ‘micro-ethnography’, see Bryman 2004, p. 293. 4 From March 2004 to June 2005. 5 It is not unusual in qualitative research to distinguish between diff erent modes of research, moving from pure observation to participatory observation, to observing participation to full participation, see Hammersley and Atkins 1987, pp. 101–102. See also Gold’s typology of precipitation roles, in Bryman 2004, p. 301. 6 Jotted notes are provisional ‘in-the-fi eld notes’, whereas full fi eld notes are more detailed and narrative in character, see Bryman 2004, p. 308. methods and material 355

Table 7. Overview of important events studied by participant observation Hillsong Pinsekirken Total Services 6 4 10 Leadership staff events: Staff 26 8 breakfasts, leadership meetings, team nights etc. Informal events with leader: Dinners, 76 13 lunchs, coff ee breaks etc. Informal events with staff , small 38 11 groups: Coff ee breaks etc. Informal events with participants 5 2 7 Offi cial party events: Church parties, 31 4 home parties, sport parties Offi cial small group events 1 1 2 Church workshops and seminars 1 1 2 Trans-local Leadership workshos 1 or 43 7 2 days (with many sub-events) Total 32 32 64 informal events gave me an experience of and feel for ‘the ecclesial practices’. I could also observe some of my respondents in the fi eld and study interaction fi rst hand, including the leadership styles of the leaders. Finally, the use of participant observation also gave me an opportunity to conduct informal interviews, which were recorded in the form of notes and written up in my fi eld diary the following day. Th e following table shows an overview of events described in my fi eld diary:

Collection of Documents and Artefacts In addition, I also collected diff erent sorts of material such as audio- tapes, books, and brochures during my fi eldwork. However, since my primary research strategy was to undertake qualitative interviews, I did not gather all possible material. I chose to prioritise books and CDs that could provide me with relevant information, and that were physically available to my respondents and myself during the time of my fi eldwork. 356 appendix b

Semi-Quantitative Survey Initially, I did not include quantitative methods in my research design. However, in Copenhagen I was invited to add some open-ended questions to the Pinsekirken’s annual survey, which was undertaken in a service they regarded as representative, in the sense that it was not a ‘special occasion’. I decided to use the same questions in a short self-completing questionnaire, which I was allowed to hand out in the Hillsong church, on a night when people attended for both introductory and leadership courses. Th is survey included questions that I assumed to be relevant to the background variables in this study.7 Th e key question, however, was termed: ‘If you identify this church as your church, what are the three most important reasons?’ Th is was basically a ‘qualitative’ open-ended question that produced answers that needed coding and interpretation in order to be quantifi ed. Th e way data was collected produced a convenience sample, and the way the key question was phrased implies that this survey is more qualitative than quantitative, even though codes may be quantifi ed. For this reason I see it as a semi-quantitative survey that is part of my ethnographic material, and it has to be validated on qualitative premises in relation to the longer interviews, although certain quantitative techniques may be applied.

A Note on Qualitative Research as Process Qualitative research is predominately process orientated and fl exible in its approach to method, theory and data (Hammersley and Atkins 1987; Bryman 2004). Th is means theoretical analysis is an integral part of the research process. It follows that the structured presentation provided in this study, and in this chapter in particular, to some degree has a somewhat artifi cial character. Th e preceding fi eldwork was a far more chaotic interplay between theory, method, and data.8 It might be worth noticing that this project started out as a case study of three churches, with a general research question related to organisational commitment, and a methodological focus on qualitative interviewing.9

7 However, in my analysis it became evident that the question concerning religious background did not produce data on whether people were new converts or not. 8 See Hammersley and Atkins 1987, pp. 169 ff ; for the ‘round-dance’, see Wadel 1991, Chs. 7 and 8. 9 I follow the relatively moderate process suggested by Bryman 2004, pp. 268 ff . methods and material 357

However, as I listened to my respondents, refl ected on my data, developed new theories, and analysed my material, it became evident that I had to downsize my study to a narrower problem statement with focus on individual life strategies derived from only two context cases, and focus on ‘present reasons for identifi cation’. Th is meant that some questions were neglected in this ‘second phase’, whereas a few questions were cautiously re-formulated.10 Th is also meant a selective approach to my quantitative material. I had to neglect the material from my third ‘case church’, in Sweden, yet in terms of process, this material was unavoidably a part of the fi rst ‘hermeneutical dance’ between theory, method, and data that took place during the fi eldwork. Th e numbers of respondents in the churches were initially higher but, due to loss of some data, I limited my presentation to 20 respondents.11

Methods of Data Analyses A crucial issue related to research design is the question of how theory can be grounded in empirical and ‘experience-near’ categories rather than being merely deduced from existing theory. On the other hand, above I have also presented my doubt concerning ‘theory-free observation’, and placed myself within a hermeneutical tradition, suggesting that all understanding proceeds as dialogue between the data material and one’s existing horizon. Nevertheless, new concepts and theories can be ‘grounded’ in the material, in the sense that they emerge from a conversation with the material that expands our existing horizon. As soon as one’s prior concepts and theories are identifi ed, these can be challenged and possibly reconstructed through a hermeneutical dialogue, which includes both the material and possible interpretations of it. Analytically, this hermeneutical process can be divided into several analytical stages. Th e fi rst stage is a pre-stage or the eff ective history of

10 It will also become evident that I would have changed some of my methodological instruments if I had known in the beginning what I know now, yet only minor methodological changes were made during the study. Some of the semi-structured interview questions were carefully rephrased in the last phase in order to clarify the intentions of the questions. In the last phase in London, I also started to collect more supplementary material such as documents and artefacts. 11 Th e most important problems were some quantitative data that disappeared in the mail between Sweden and Norway, slow progress in terms of gaining access to respondents in London, and technical mistakes (empty battery, full hard disc, accidents) related to the recording of interviews. 358 appendix b me as researcher, as I enter the fi eld. Th e second analytical stage occurs in the fi eld, when I am refl ecting as participant observer and making theoretical memos in my fi eld diary, performing the ‘round-dance of theory, method, and data’. Th e third stage, of transcription, can analytically be placed both before and aft er the fi eldwork. Here I transcribed the interviews with the help of two research assistants, who in part also controlled the work of one another. Simultaneously, my research assistants and I transferred the survey material from handwritten text to Microsoft Excel. Th e fourth stage began by analysing the interaction that took place in each interview and in the fi eld, in general. Th e key question here concerns how I infl uenced the construction of my own data. Th is is in part a ‘critical project’ in terms of questioning the validity of my data, but is also constructive in the sense that I could analyse how my informants responded to questions and certain modes of behaviour, and ask questions about what they said about their social world and their individual life strategies. In a fi ft h stage I adopted the tactics of coding from grounded theory, using the computer program NVivo to code my interview transcripts and my fi eld diary. Codes are labels for assigning units of meaning to the descriptive information compiled during a study (Miles and Huberman 1994, p. 57). Simultaneously, I also coded my material from the semi- quantitative survey, and did a hermeneutical analysis of written documents and other artefacts (music CDs). Open coding is, according to Strauss and Corbin (1990, quoted in Bryman 2004, p. 402), the ‘process of breaking down, examining, comparing, conceptualising, and catego- rizing data’. Th is is done in order to yield concepts that may be grouped and turned into categories that may be linked to other concepts in theoretical models. In my case, this included both an aspiration to understand my respondents in a diachronic-narrative perspective, and an aspiration to develop synchronic theory. In this hermeneutical process, which might be considered a sixth stage in the process, I saw codes emerging from the empirical model as ‘parts’ in a hermeneutical circle, that also included my prior understanding, the existing theories that were presented in the last chapter, and new theoretical ‘wholes’ in the making. In the process of developing theory and models, I used what Miles and Huberman call ‘tactics for generating meaning’ and what Kvale calls meaning condensation; meaning categorisation and meaning interpretation. Th ese tactics include counting, noting patterns, seeing plausibility, making metaphors, noting relations between variables, and methods and material 359

1. Pre-stager

'Later hermeneutical circle' - data and theory

2. Fieldwork 3. Trans- 4. Interaction 5. Coding 6. Making theories/ 7.Writing the research data -collection/ scribing analyses concepts models story 'first hermeneutics'

Figure 14. Th e process of analysis subsuming particulars into the general, based on constant comparison and qualitative clustering.12 I started with more than 1000 codes and ended up with a simpler theoretical model, entailing a few key categories. At the same time I used previous theory to criticise the models and metaphors that emerged during this process, which might be considered a move from participation to descriptive theological theory. Th is ‘research story’ might be considered a seventh stage in the hermeneutical process since the process of writing is, as Barabara Czarniawaska (2004) observes, a process of ‘emplotment’, and therefore another way of theorising. It is worth noticing that the process of theorising before and during writing enabled me to see the material in new ways, thus produc- ing new labels and codes. It follows that the overall process illustrated below was not fully linear, but included a hermeneutic ‘circle movement’ or dance between coding, theorising, and writing. Th is is illustrated in the following model.

A Note on Participant Observation and Double Hermeneutics Similar methodological problems and possibilities pertain to the issues of participative and double hermeneutics. Th ese issues may be formulated in two questions; fi rstly, how did my presence in the fi eld infl uence my data and vice versa?; and secondly, how did fi eld relations infl uence my interpretation of data? My answers to these questions rely partly on observations during fi eldwork, particularly those made during the

12 Th ese tactics are described by Miles and Huberman (1994, ch. 10), by Bryman (2004, ch. 19), and by Kvale (1996, ch. 11). Th e tactics of constant comparison, borrowed from so-called ‘grounded theory’, were particularly important in the process of identifying key concepts. Note that qualitative clustering, which is a hermeneutical approach to the creation of categorical clusters or bins, is diff erent from quantitative clustering (see Miles and Huberman 1994, pp. 248–250). 360 appendix b briefi ng and debriefi ng which took place before and aft er each interview. Th e most useful data comes, however, from interaction analyses that were undertaken in retrospect. To the leaders in Pinsekirken I was quite familiar as a colleague, even though I had little contact with the church prior to my fi eldwork.13 Most people seemed to see me both as a researcher and as a Christian leader, and in some cases friendships also developed. Th is identity had some advantages. I discovered that my status as a Christian leader was important in the interview interaction in relation to respondents who were committed to the church. I assumed that my status as a pastor would make my respondents somewhat hesitant to reveal problems, but it turned out to be a resource in the interview situation. Some of the respondents who identifi ed strongly with the church were sceptical towards me as a researcher, and asked questions concerning my motives for researching; however, when they heard that I was a pastor they gained more trust, and this led to open and moderately critical refl ections. On the other hand, my identity had disadvantages as well. Firstly, my sampling of respondents in Pinsekirken took the form of a ‘snowball’ sampling process that started with the pastoral staff . Th e advantage was that they set me up to meet people who corresponded to my theoretical criteria for sampling, and for this reason there are more ‘new converts’ in the Danish material than in the British. However, this also meant that it took time before I accidentally made contact with a few people who were more critical of the church. Secondly, friendships and trust form psychological and emotional bonds that may have made me less critical during fi eldwork and that may cause me to be over-cautious, in terms of not betraying their trust. Finally, the fact that the church comes from a tradition close to my own caused some problems in terms of establishing critical cognitive distance. I tried to use auto-ethnographic refl ections to deal with these issues. I found in the comparative analysis between cases that ‘shared faith’ was a more diffi cult barrier, in term of establishing critical distance, than ‘social bonds and friendship’.14 However, the subsequent analyses have increased the distance. In London I was able to get in touch with the senior pastor of the church through a mutual friend, and then slowly gained access to the

13 Pinsekirken in Copenhagen is in many respects a sister church to the church to which I belong. Th us I was embraced as a kind of insider from the beginning of my fi eldwork there. 14 It was somewhat challenging to refl ect alternatively on the church in Copenhagen, since its theology was cognitively closer to the paradigm of my own tradition. methods and material 361 fi eld through some of the pastor’s co-workers. However, this took more time than I had initially expected, and this initiated a process of snowball sampling from ‘below’ as well as from ‘above’.15 Th e disadvantage of this approach was that it took some time before I could enter ‘backstage arenas’ where leaders talk with leaders. Th ere is therefore less such material from this church. Th e advantage of this approach was that I had a more genuine experience of what it meant to be a newcomer to the church and be treated as one by its members. However, as people got to know me, trust and friendships developed as they did in Copenhagen. In theory, the ‘sampling from below’ could have led to a greater variation of respondents, including critics, but in practice, that was not the case. I have, however, talked to some people who left the church, in other contexts. Nonetheless, overall I spent more time with participants outside of ‘the leadership sphere’, and that gave me more data from these strata of the organisation compared with my research in Copenhagen. However, one aspect of my various statuses and roles created an imbalance of data in both arenas. Th is is the status of being a man, who more easily connects with other men. During my fi eldwork, I acknowledged that I spent most of my informal time with men or with married couples, and this led to an important gender bias in my data. Such a bias is common in ethnographic accounts, since it is hard for the qualitative researcher to escape the consequences of his or her gender (see Hammersley and Atkins 1987, pp. 94–95). To compensate for this, I made some visits to the fi eld together with my wife, who provided some insights from a ‘woman perspective’, but my perspective is nevertheless male, also when I try to interpret and understand gender diff erences. Finally, one must also ask how my status-set and speech acts infl u- enced my respondents in the long term. Some of my respondents reported that the interview was a stimulating experience, and that they had thought about their life in a new and interesting way. Th e pastors have also been interested in my fi ndings. Nonetheless, overall I could not observe any dramatic eff ects of my research in any of the three arenas, even though this material may be part of my respondents’ refl ections.

15 I started as a typical ‘new person’ at a ‘wine and cheese party’ for people over 35, and then tried to gain new contacts. I also went to a ‘welcome to church party’, where I met a young graduate student who invited me into his ‘life/connect’ group. My last ‘door’ to the arena was a 19-year-old girl who was a friend of a friend, and worked as a part- time assistant at the church offi ce. 362 appendix b

Ethical Issues

Th e research process raises several ethical issues.16 Th e fi rst issue may be formulated as the ethical implications of the researcher’s presence in the fi eld and the question of ‘intervention’. To some extent, qualitative research unavoidably invades the life of the informants and the existing power relations in the fi eld. I will suggest that phronetic social science is located on a middle ground between positivism and the ideal of non- interference in the fi eld, on the one hand, and pragmatic action research, which studies the fi eld by trying to transform it, on the other. How this middle ground should be defi ned is a large debate, but at this point I will limit my refl ections to a short presentation of the ethical considerations that guided my conduct in the fi eld.17

1. Th e researcher should, as a guiding strategy and to the degree that it is possible, fi rst seek to understand persons and systems, before he or she makes active interventions that may cause change. 2. Th e level of intervention should be guided by respectful and emphatic dialogue with those who are most aff ected by the researcher’s presence. 3. Th e researcher can facilitate empowering refl ections, given that criteria 1 and 2 are taken into consideration.18

I tried to deal with these challenges through constructing informed consent, which was developed under the legal supervision of Norwegian

16 Th e following account is indebted to John Creswell (2003, pp. 62 ff ). Creswell wisely suggests that ethical issues start with the research question, and that it is important to identify a problem that will benefi t the individuals who are being studied. I also agree with his suggestion that a core idea of participatory research is that the inquirer will not further marginalise or disempower the study participants. 17 I would suggest that this guideline is a reasonable expression of the virtues of empathy and respect that were important for the founders of qualitative method. Hence, I will partly embrace the ‘old’ ethnographic ideal, in terms of trying to limit my own infl uence, at least in certain phases of the project. In the context of the local churches, my theological or organisational proposals for ‘change’ must be understood as ‘external’ suggestions that respect the communities’ and individuals’ right to evaluate these proposals on the basis of their own ‘internal’ criteria. As the researcher makes interventions, he should have no hidden agenda, but inform the participants openly of the purposes and basic assumptions that guide his own actions, and encourage the participants to be critical to these values. 18 What is empowering or disempowering may at least ideally relate to the research questions. I acknowledge that despite intentions of serving and empowering, the researcher may in fact be an agent of oppressive power. methods and material 363

Social Science Data Services. Th is document was presented to the leader of the church at the beginning of the fi eldwork, and to each interviewee in a short briefi ng prior to our conversations. Th is document was constructed in order to help the respondents understand the purpose of the study, and to introduce them to their right to ask questions and obtain a copy of the results. Secondly, the process of data analysis and presentation raises questions concerning the anonymity of respondents and their need for pri- vacy and personal integrity (see Creswell 2003, pp. 64–65). In order to do this I have obtained a signed confi dentiality agreement from my research assistants. I have also provided the informants with a pseudo- nym in my presentation. In a few cases, I have also concealed or slightly reconstructed background variables and other identity markers that could expose my respondents. I have tried to do this without altering the relevant implications of this information.19 Nonetheless, there are some important exceptions to this practice. Because I deem it impossible to conceal the identity of the churches and their senior leaders without dis- torting important material, I have obtained the consent of the pastors and their wives to reveal their identity.

Validity and Reliability Above, I suggested that this study seeks to work within a critical realist paradigm. Joseph Maxwell suggests that critical realist understanding of validity begins from the notion that in most cases an evaluation of an account does not depend entirely on the internal coherence or plausibility of the account itself, but on the relationship between the account and the phenomenon it tries to describe.20 It follows that questions about some kind of correspondence are not irrelevant in qualitative research.21

19 Kvale suggests that one can alter information about respondents without making major changes of meaning when anonymity is threatened, although he also acknowledged that this is a diffi cult task (see Kvale 1996, pp. 260 ff .). 20 Maxwell proposes that qualitative researchers discriminate between diff erent accounts based on the relationship between the accounts, and something external to them, that is, the phenomenon that the account is about. Maxwell’s model of validity is grounded in critical realism, which means that he admits that it is always possible for there to be diff erent equally valid accounts from diff erent perspectives. Yet he follows R. J. Bernstein in rejecting the idea that these accounts are incommensurable in the sense of being incomparable (Maxwell 2002, pp. 41–46). 21 Critical realists will see truth as an adequate concept in both theology and social science. Firstly, claims of truth should be based on criteria for empirical validation, 364 appendix b

Validity in this view refers to accounts, data, or conclusions, and not to methods (Maxwell 2002, p. 56). Maxwell states: Validity is not the inherent property of a particular method, but pertains to the data, accounts or conclusions reached by using that method in a particular context for a particular purpose. (Maxwell 2002, p. 42). However, due to the hermeneutical nature of qualitative research it may be argued, as Maxwell proposes, that understanding is more of a fundamental concept in qualitative analysis than validity (see also Maxwell 2002, pp. 39 ff ). Following Maxwell, I will suggest that several types of validity exist in qualitative research. In the following I will focus on the three most relevant types to descriptive theology; descriptive, interpretative, and theoretical validity. In the last part of the chapter I will return to questions of normative methods and what Maxwell calls evaluative validity. Descriptive validity refers to acts rather than actions or activities, and may be perceived as physical or behavioural events rather than in terms of the meaning that these have for the actors. Th e issue of descriptive validity urges the researcher to ask whether data is based on a physical event that actually took place.22 Reliability in this view does not refer to meaning that one should present criteria for how a valid description of reality is more than a pure construction. In this ‘weak’ sense, of (yet, fallible) experiential accountability, one may speak of correspondence as a criterion for truth. Th e same criteria obviously apply to how one presents ‘the other point of view’ on the level of theoretical discussion. Secondly, one may also propose ‘coherence’ as a criterion for truth, in the sense that a statement may be rendered false if it does not cohere, or is inconsistent, with those claims in a network of statements that are given greater weight. In my view, this criterion is best applied at the level of theoretical validity and overarching theories, yet even at this level, it must be applied cautiously. According to Vanhoozer, it is a mistake to equate the unity of the canon with that of a conceptual system. Th eology is, according to Vanhoozer, systematic only in a soft sense, which requires the theologian to assume responsibility for some kind of overall consistency. Th e unity of the canon is neither that of a Euclid or a mosaic, however, but of a ‘mythos’ or plot; a rendering of a whole and complete action (see Vanhoozer 2006, pp. 258–259; 266–277). Th irdly, a fundamental practical theology will also include practical criteria for truth. A Pentecostal Charismatic epistemology, which seeks holistic yada-knowledge, cannot reduce alethic truth to cognitive propositions alone. Th eological aletheia is truth in action, ortho-praxis guided by orthodoxy, inspired by ortho-pathy.. For this reason, truth may also be considered in relation to the pragmatic criterion of ‘that which works’ over time, yet not without ethical consideration on both the ends of that which works, and the ‘means applied’. For the relationship between critical realism and Pentecostal spirituality, see Cartledge 2003, chs. 1–3. 22 Primary descriptive validity refers to what the researcher reports to have seen, heard, or experienced in terms of physical or behavioural events rather than in terms methods and material 365 an aspect of validity or to a separate issue, but to a particular threat to validity. Reliability in qualitative research concerns whether diff erent observers or methods produce similar accounts of the same situation, related to their purpose and perspective.23

Member Check in, Interaction Analyses, and Triangulation of Methods and Data Th roughout this study, I have tried to establish descriptive validity through a variety of means. Although the validation of quality data moves beyond procedural approach, I considered it useful to employ classical techniques such as ‘member check in’, interaction analyses, and triangulation of methods and data. Th e problem of descriptive validity exists on at least two levels. Th e fi rst-order problem concerns whether people’s presentation of their life and commitment story is trustworthy. Th is is obviously a diffi cult and sensitive matter to investigate. Although people seek to be basically honest, the story they tell is a self-presentation, which is based on their present preferences, and the past is seen through current values.24 Th us, the descriptive validity of such ‘presentational data’ is at best partial. I was able to use ‘observational data’, based on participant observation and interaction analyses,25 to analyse the trustworthiness of ‘presentational data’. Th e triangulation of methods and diff erent question types

of the meaning that these have for the actors. Secondary descriptive validity concerns things that could not be observed, but were inferred from other data. Descriptive validity is by no means independent of theory, all observations and descriptions are based on theory, even if this is implicit or common sense. However, descriptive validity may be free from disagreement about the theory in question, see Maxwell 2002, pp. 45–46. 23 If diff erent observers/methods produce diff erent data/accounts, this can be resolved in two ways; either by modifi cations that lead to agreement, or by ascertaining that the diff erences were due to diff erences in perspective and purpose, and that both of these approaches were descriptively valid, given those perspectives and purposes (Maxwell 2002, p. 48). 24 Th is is a widely recognised phenomenon in conversion research (see Snow and Machalek 1984). 25 I also made such observations in the interaction analysis of the interviews. Th is analysis had multiple purposes, but one was to see the interviews as strategic interaction in which diff erent themes were highlighted or avoided. I also assessed how my questions infl uenced the answers, so that I could evaluate the interaction, and in most cases down- play or neglect data that occurred from leading or closed follow-up questions. In some cases, this was done in a separate procedure, whereas in other cases this was integrated into the process and coded in Nvivo. In some cases, I identifi ed leading questions that severely weakened the trustworthiness of data. 366 appendix b in the qualitative interview also provided me with several accounts on the same theme that could be checked against each other.26 In this process I also used coherence as a criterion. When I found incoherent elements in someone’s commitment stories I addressed these issues in a follow-up interview. Th e second-order problem can be defi ned as the problem of whether my fi eld notes and interview transcripts are correct accounts of what was said, reported, and done during the fi eldwork. In order to improve the descriptive validity of this kind of material, important parts of the written transcripts were checked against the original audio recording and selectively cross-checked by me and other research assistants. Respondents also received a copy of the interview transcripts and were invited to comment. On some occasions, a follow-up interview was made by telephone.

Interpretative Validity Interpretive validity refers to the ideational or ‘mental meaning’ that people associate with their behaviour. Interpretative validity in this sense primarily pertains to aspects of an account for which the terms are ‘emic’, ‘experience-near’, or ‘respondent-near’ in the sense of refl ecting the conceptual framework of ‘those people whose meaning is in question’. On the other hand, accounts of the participant’s meanings are never a matter of direct access, but at least in part constructed by the researcher, based on the participant’s accounts and on other evidence. For this reason I also tried to test my interpretations using the tactics of validation as described by Kvale . I tried to give the respondent the possibility to respond to my interpretations both during and aft er the interview, by presenting transcripts, and in some cases conducting follow-up interviews. I also looked for misunderstandings in the interaction analysis, as my understanding of the congregational cultures increased.27 At this point transcription is a problem since several non-verbal features, such as laughter, pauses, and narrative tone, may

26 When these were in confl ict, priority was normally given to sources of fi rst-hand accounts (e.g interview transcripts) over secondary accounts (e.g. fi eld notes). 27 Interpretative validity primarily pertains to aspects of an account for which the terms are ‘emic’, meaning they have to be ‘experience near’ in the sense that they emerge out of the conceptual framework of the people whose meaning is in question. Accounts of the participants’ meanings are never a matter of direct access, but should always be constructed by the researcher based on the participants’ accounts and other evidence. methods and material 367 be lost in this process. For this reason I also, though selectively, used the audio recording to analyse the interviews and made notes on non- verbal signs. In this process I rediscovered, as Steinar Kvale suggests, that the main problem in terms of interpretative validity is the ‘richness’ of the accounts. Strategic downplaying or highlighting of themes during an interview may also provide rich or poor descriptions, making some interpretations of an aspect thick and others thin, and others diffi cult or incomplete.28 On the other hand, observations of such interaction strategies may be considered valuable data for further analyses, in particular in relation to ‘confl ict avoidance’ as strategy.

Th e Problem of Qualitative and Quantitative Analyses – a Qualitative Approach From a critical realist perspective there is no necessary distinction between reasons and causes. My model of identifi cation and commitment will be presented as a hermeneutical interpretation of reasons that are perceived as causes. Th e main causal mechanism studied in this study is reasons for identifying, answering the question: why do people identify with this church as their church? In this case, it is possible to defi ne a categorical variable, in the sense that people either identify with this church or they do not. However, when it comes to describing the diff erent reasons for identifying, I fi nd that relational categories are more adequate. During my analyses, I discovered two main problems concerning the use of both qualitative and semi-quantitative data. Th e fi rst problem was that reasons appeared as related concepts that are best understood in relation to each other – rather than as mutually exclusive categories. Th is is a problem since conventional quantitative analysis basically works with the latter. My basic approach, however, is qualitative. Th is obviously has implications for the use of numbers and statistics in the following

Like descriptive validity then, interpretative validity, while not theoretical, refers to aspects of accounts for which the terms could be inter-subjective. Disagreements refer to their accuracy, not their meaning, and concepts and terms are ‘experience near’, see Maxwell 2002, pp. 48–50. 28 For instance, instead of perceiving misunderstanding primarily as a problem of descriptive validity, they may be perceived as possible clues of diff erent perceptions and cultural layers of meaning, see Geertz 1973. 368 appendix b presentation. An assessment of their relative importance will not be made independently of ‘qualitative interpretation’, based on hermeneutical analyses of the in-depth interviews. Hence, these concepts are both analytically distinct and yet hermeneutically related, and cannot be validated according to classical criteria for quantitative research that analyse the relationship between mutually exclusive, categorical concepts refl ecting ontologically separate variables.29 Secondly, I also discovered that categories could be counted diff erently in relation to one another, depending on the hermeneutical questions raised, since a number of categories that emerge from respondents are somewhat ambiguous. For instance, is ‘a sense of home’ a reason that describes an organisational foci or a reason that describes a form of personal application or relevance? I will suggest that it is both, and therefore, this concept cannot be used in a comparison between either ‘organisational or individual constructs’. It may be used, however, in other comparisons that deal with the organisational and individual dimension separately. Th is comparison also depends on hermeneutical interpretation of respondent categories, and must therefore be validated hermeneutically. Th e use of open questions in a quantitative survey is quite problematic, since ‘experience-near’ categories need to be coded and included in the hermeneutical circle that was described above, in order to be counted. It may be viable, however, as long as these fi ndings are presented as qualitative rather than quantitative. Th e logic of validation used in this study is therefore qualitative rather than quantitative, and for this reason I will refer to the survey in the following as semi-quantitative.

Th eoretical Validity In this perspective, there is no absolute distinction between descriptive, interpretative, and theoretical validity, since there are no theory- independent data.30 Interpretative and theoretical data are hermeneutical

29 Research based on surveys with open-ended, rather than pre-fabricated categorical, questions may run into several problems grounded in the social reality they study (see Gorard 2003, pp. 103–106). In my case, the open-ended questions produced multi- relational and oft en ambiguous answers, leaving me with the dilemma of either subsuming codes at this level, or giving some respondents the power to present more than three reasons, and therefore a stronger voice in the overall counting of reasons. I chose to do the latter. 30 In Maxwell’s framework, objectivity and independence are replaced by inter- subjective agreement on the descriptive and interpretative terms, within a community of researchers (Maxwell 2002, p. 52). methods and material 369 and relational in the sense that data has to be understood in the light of theory, and theory in light of data. It follows from this that theoretical validity is essential to the whole ‘hermeneutical dance’ that was presented above. Th eoretical validity refers to an account’s validity as a theory. Th eories function as explanations, as well as descriptions or interpretations of given phenomena. Any theory has two components: the concepts or categories, and the relationships that are thought to exist between these concepts. Corresponding to these two aspects of theory are two corresponding aspects of validity. Th e fi rst is category or construct validity, the second is what Maxwell defi nes as internal validity, which refers to the causal or descriptive relationship between constructs (Maxwell 2002, pp. 51–52).

A Note on Internal and External Generalisability Generalisability refers to the extent to which one can extend the account of particular fi ndings in one context to settings other than those directly studied. ‘Internal generalisability’ is generalising within the case, whereas ‘external generalisability’ refers to generalising to other communities, groups, or institutions. However, there is no clear-cut or absolute distinction between these aspects (Maxwell 2002, pp. 52–53). In this study external generalisation of primary cases coincides with internal generalisation in the context cases. Generalisation in this study is primarily done through identifying patterns common to individual cases and context cases, and their relationship to wider contexts. Further studies may re-investigate these fi ndings by means of replication logic.31 Patterns here are basically interpreted within a moderate critical realist view, which sees ‘social facts’ as ‘social constructions’, in at least two ways. Firstly, patterns are seen as emerging out of refl exive human action in relation to socially constructed structures of meaning and interaction. It follows that the patterns identifi ed are not seen as exhaustive descriptions of ‘universal laws’, but rather as historical snapshots of a more or less stable structure-agency relationship in a given context. Secondly, these ‘snapshots’ or descriptions are created in a hermeneutical fusion of empirical structures and theoretical horizons.

31 By replication logic I mean a logic relatively similar to that which is applied in a series of inductive experiments. One looks for patterns, but also for dissimilarities in each ‘following case’, see Yin 2003, pp. 47–51; and De Vaus 2001, pp. 237 ff . 370 appendix b

Based on the previous assumptions, it follows that fi ndings in one context cannot be transferred mechanically to another. Th eory must be applied hermeneutically to new contexts and to new timeframes, meaning that researchers, myself included, must make contextualised judgements. Th e claims of generalisability made in this study are therefore modest. Nevertheless, I will make use of theory in an attempt to transcend the perspective of both singular cases and my ‘organisational’ context cases. By including established theory in the dialogue with the material, and by developing my own typologies and models, I am aiming at providing fruitful practical theological perspectives that may be applied hermeneutically to other contexts by other researchers and practitioners. At this point it might be appropriate to comment on how the statistical material in this study relates to the issue of ‘internal generalisation’. In both cases the material consists of a self-selected ‘convenience sample’ of active participants.32 Overall, the relative sample size of the data collected in Copenhagen was far better, yet none of the samples may be considered as statistically representative.33 Th e use of the material must therefore be seen as an extension of the hermeneutical analysis that was presented above, rather than in terms of conventional statistical probability. For this reason I have included the material in my analyses, but it will be given less weight in the process of providing theoretical generalisability than the richer material from the semi-structured interviews.34

32 For a defence of this kind of sample in organisational studies, see Bryman 2004, pp. 100 ff . 33 In Copenhagen, the material was collected in a main service. Th e total number of respondents was 415, of which 360 answered that they took part in the service at least twice a month. In London, I obtained a sample of 55 respondents in the context of a ‘teaching night’, which entailed one course for new participants and one for new leaders. All these respondents participated in three services or more per month. Contrary to ‘common sense’, it is the absolute size of sample that is important in quantitative research, and not the relative size (Bryman 2004, p. 97). However, the same conclusion must be drawn from an assessment of relative sampling size. As an indicator of relative size, 267 of my respondents were formal members of the church, whereas the total population was estimated to be 1250. In London, the 55 participants should relate to the 1200–1300 new participants who joined the church during my fi eldwork, or the 5500 participants on Sunday services. 34 A probability sample would have been better. Maxwell suggests that although qualitative and quantitative strategies for validation are diff erent within this paradigm, they are not incompatible. Th e qualitative approach addresses particular threats to validity or alternative hypotheses aft er a tentative account has been developed, whereas the quantitative approach attempts to eliminate such threats through prior procedures of research design. Th e validity of quantitative studies is normally closely related to the design of the methods and material 371

Validity and Ethnographic Storytelling British anthropologist Sir Edmund Leach suggested that ethnographic research was an art, and that the researcher to some degree was as much a ‘bad novelist’ as he or she was a ‘bad scientist’.35 Later generations of researchers have also suggested that the qualitative researcher is a ‘brico- leur’, trying to tell a story using a collage of selected material collected and presented through variety of techniques (see Denzin and Lincoln 2003, Ch.1). Above, I have suggested that writing in terms of ‘emplotment’ is theorising, and that theory colours the whole process from data collection to writing out the research story (Czarniawaska 2004). Th is means that even a ‘critical realist’ must employ relevant, yet selective, ‘snapshots’ of a material from a specifi c perspective, when he tries to tell ‘the truth’. Th us, he or she is presenting reality in the form of both ‘per- spectival’ and symbolic realism.36 However, in order to advance the overall descriptive validity of this study, I will apply at least three tactics of ‘transparency’ in the following presentation. Th is may enable readers to assess this report critically. Firstly, I have already presented my theoretical pre-understandings. Th is might help the reader to identify how these pre-understandings infl uence the following presentation. Secondly, I will also try to provide a more ‘direct’ access to selected parts of the material by presenting quotes of interview transcripts and other relevant material. And fi nally, I will also show how the interview data were produced and how my informants ‘became respondents’, by presenting some of my behaviour and more importantly, some of the interview questions that prompted these answers. In order to add to the interpretative and theoretical validity, I will also present my arguments in the process of theory building and take counter-arguments into consideration, as in most academic work. However, the purpose of this study is not only to make my case, but also to stimulate refl ection. Yvonna Lincoln and Egon G. Guba suggest that one should judge research reports on empowerment criteria, meaning that the account should evoke and facilitate action on the part of the readers

study. However, in my case, the quantitative data was a result of opportunities that emerged in the fi eld, see Maxwell 2002, p. 41 and 56. 35 Leach 1982, pp. 52–53; quote aft er Wadel 1991, p. 200. For similar refl ections, see also Denzin and Lincoln 2003. 36 For this kind of ‘symbolic’ or fi gurative realism, see Czarniawaska 2004, pp. 117–118. 372 appendix b

(Lincoln and Guba 2002, p. 211). I have already suggested that I consider the facilitation of empowering refl ections as ethically legitimate, given that certain criteria are fulfi lled. Th is suggestion raises several meta- questions about the normative or ethical methods in use – and what Maxwell calls evaluative validity, however, these cannot be discussed extensively within the scope of this study (see Maxwell 2002, p. 55). An overarching image of the process of validation may be seen in the following table:

Table 10. Validity and the process of analysis Key criteria/type of Key tactics for Stage Activity validity validation 1–2 Th eoretical An early stage that Method refl ection includes all the criteria triangulation and data presented in this collection, chapter design 3–4 Transcription, Descriptive validity: Interaction – typing, Accuracy and analyses – cross interaction understanding, checks of analyses authenticity/ material correspondence, and coherence 5–6 Coding, Interpretative and Tactics for hermeneutic theoretical validity: generating theory Rich understanding, meaning/ building ‘contextual and understanding, individual coherence’ testing models against material, other theories 7 Writing, theory Descriptive, theoretical, Transparent building, and normative rhetoric, presentation Rhetorical validity: presentation of transparency, horizons, coherence, inspirational material, moral – and practical arguments, (pragmatic counter ‘applicability’) arguments BIBLIOGRAPHY AND REFERENCES

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CDs

Various artist: Shout God’s fame, Hillsong Music, release date: 2004–06–08 Various artists: For all you done, Hillsong Music, release date: 2004–09–14 Houston, Brian: (2004) Leadership lessons from the Psalms. Castle Hill: Maximized Leadership. Tangstad, Jarle: (2004) Verdens beste prædiken. Bjergpredikenen er Gud’s riges magna Carta. Copenhagen: Pinsekirken. INDEX

Aagedal 7, 373 Albrecht 203, 216, 373 Davenport 295, 375 Archer 16–19, 69, 216, 234, 235, 236, Denzin 371, 375 237, 251, 272, 285, 287–290, 292, 293, De Vaus 4, 369, 375 295, 301, 343–345, 349, 373 Douglas 19, 55, 184, 209, 277, 343, Aristotle 18, 255, 259, 341, 342, 373 345, 375 Asheim 285, 373 Dulles 7, 8, 375 Askeland 4, 373 Durkheim 56, 203, 302, 345, 374, 375 Atkinson 377 Aulén 373 Emmons 215, 216, 285, 376 Epstein 285, 376 Baltes 259, 374 Erikson 376 Banks 2, 22, 334, 337, 374 Bass 2, 4, 7, 8, 21–24, 26, 31, 170, Farrand 182, 376 243–245, 268, 269, 317, 318, 325, 328, Fee 319, 334, 376 330, 332, 374, 377, 380 Finke 25, 52, 271, 379 Baudrillard 1, 374 Flyvbjerg 341, 342, 344, 347, 376 Bauman 1, 2, 15, 16, 21, 191, 211, 224, Foot 285, 376 256, 269, 282, 297–299, 306, 322, 325, Ford 22, 376 326, 374 Foucault 278, 376, 378 Beck-Gernsheim 31, 183, 228, 374 Frankfurt 17, 236, 295, 376 Bellah 1–3, 7, 10–14, 16, 18, 24, 25, 30, Frankl 243, 376 31, 32, 82, 101, 102, 182, 191, 192, 202, French 323, 376 204, 228, 235, 237, 243, 246–251, 255, Frye 89, 106, 376 264, 278, 282, 283, 287, 288, 302, 303, Furseth 102, 104, 376 313, 333, 341, 342, 347, 374 Berger 236, 343, 374 Gadamer 342, 376 Berkhof 250, 374 Gardner 160, 376 Bloch Hoel 3 Geertz 185, 367, 376 Bock 192, 375 Gibbs 27, 189, 321, 376 Bolger 27, 189, 321, 376 Giddens 7, 18, 30, 159, 181, 218, Bråten 105, 205, 206, 235, 292, 375 281, 285, 290, 347, 376, 380 Brierley 51, 375 Gilligan 13, 376 Browning 3, 235, 236, 319, 341–343, Gorard 368, 376 348, 375 Greeley 51, 376 Bruner 235, 375 Grudem 9, 10, 376 Brunner 250, 375 Burns 21, 22, 243, 244, 270, 318, 325, 375 Habermas 10, 11, 269, 376 Burrell 349, 350, 375 Hammersley 348, 354, 356, 361, 377 Carmichael 256, 375 Harrison 319, 377 Carson 27, 30, 375 Hauerwas 318, 320, 374, 377 Cartledge, D. 10, 28, 375 Hawkins 377 Cartledge, M. J 375 Heelas 2, 4, 11–13, 25, 26, 36, 51, 68, Cartledge, M. J. 341 82, 100, 102, 104, 209, 229, 281, 289, Clift on 10, 28, 53, 54, 59, 67, 278, 326, 301, 333, 351, 377 327, 337, 338, 375 Henriksen 33, 333, 377 Cohen, 375 Heuser 304, 321, 377 384 index

Hiebert 276, 280, 337, 377 Miller 26, 41, 208, 253, 257, 277, 330, Huberman 239, 358, 359, 377, 378 335, 338, 345, 346, 378 Morgan 349, 350, 375 Jacobsen 36, 377 Jervell 231, 377 Newbigin 8, 378 Johns 8, 336, 377, 380 Northouse 21–23, 243, 378 Josefsson 42, 50, 377 Nygren 319, 378

Kanungo 330, 375, 377 Osmer 22, 344, 378 Kasser, 379 Kay 51, 377 Parker 293, 379 Kelley 25, 26, 271, 279, 377 Parkinson 377 Kenneson 377 Parson 237, 379 Kierkegaard 295, 375, 377 Poloma 41, 64, 202, 207, 379 Klaus 304, 321, 377 Posner 330, 377 Kobia, 1 Propora 184, 185, 209, 343, Kouzes 330, 377 345, 379 Kraft 209, 377 Putnam 264, 379 Kvalbein 322, 377 Kvale 353, 358, 359, 363, 366, Rambo 285, 296, 301, 379 367, 377 Raun Iversen 11, 103, 313, 376, 379 Land 8, 9, 203, 226, 245, 250, 253, Raven 323, 376 321, 336, 377 Ricoeur 379 Lasch 333, 377 Riggio 4, 22, 23, 243, 244, 374 Leach 371, 377 Ruether 67, 379 Levin 377 Lincoln 371, 375, 377 Schutz 205, 379 Lindbeck 345, 377 Sheldon 215, 285, 379 Lingenfelter 19, 20, 38, 55, 277, 280, 378 Shults 209, 236, 257, 258, 379 Loades 378 Skjervheim, 379 Lonergan, B 378 Snow 193, 365, 379 Lüchau 36, 378 Stark 25, 379 Lyotard 30, 378 Steidlmeier 374 Stiver 342, 379 Macchia 201, 203, 378 Machalek 365, 379 Tamney 26, 379 MacIntyre 8, 13, 30, 31, 90, 290, 318, Taylor 12, 18, 101, 236, 321, 375, 378 342, 379 Majdali 378 Th omas, 379 Martin 203, 266, 378 Tillich 216, 379 Mathiesen 278, 378 Turner 203, 376, 379 Maxwell 363–365, 367–370, 372, 378 McAdams 18, 19, 89, 106, 160, 183, Vanderberghe 24, 378 226–228, 235, 290, 330, 378 Vanhoozer 379 McClelland 259, 378 Van Huyssteen 344, 379 McClendon 31, 320, 378 Vetlesen, 380 McGrath 3, 343–345, 378 Mead 142, 290, 292, 378 Wadel 356, 371, 380 Mendonca 330, 377 Wagner 25, 27, 54, 335, 380 Merleau-Ponty 234, 378 Weaver 319, 320, 380 Meyer 23, 24, 378 White 89, 106, 380 Milbank 31, 267, 320, 345, 350, 378 Whyte 321, 380 Miles 239, 358, 359, 377, 378 Winnicott 217, 218, 380 index 385

Woodhead 2, 4, 11–13, 25, 26, 36, Yamamori 208, 253, 257, 338, 345, 51, 68, 82, 100, 102, 104, 209, 346, 378 229, 281, 289, 301, 333, 351, 376, Yukl 21, 22, 338, 380 377, 380 Wright 264, 343, 376, 380 Zuckerman 35, 36, 52, 68, 380