When I was a tweenager I did a market research survey on the change of name of the chocolate bar Marathon to Snickers. I remember saying that I didn't think it was a good idea because I understand the language of marathon - it gives you the energy to get through - to run that endurance race..... and Snickers means what?
They clearly didn't listen to me (as they changed the name to Snickers). Their advertising campaign for it being a cure for food anger actually probably relates more to me than me ever being a marathon runner....
But now there is an air of celebration about because for a limited time only the name has gone retro. We've got Marathon again. We've come home.
Home to a place of nostalgia. Changing the name back doesn't mean the flavour has changed. It doesn't mean that the shrinkage that I have no doubt has happened has been reversed. It just brings an air of familiarity in uncertain days. Remember the days when they were called Marathons? They were happy days.
When they were called Marathons I was a little person and despite tweenage angst and my struggles with making friends that stuck I was happy. I went to school, tried my girly swot best, grew my own personal faith and was secure and safe.
But since then? Life has changed, and although life is quite tough right now because everything is changing, it doesn't mean that clutching onto a name that means less than it implies is going to help me step forward into the future. Life isn't always going to be the same, and the names and products that were there when I was growing up (and this country was in a much better place) aren't going to make life any better for more than a moment.....
Because a Marathon is still a Snickers, and while it will help me with my food anger, it won't help me run 26 miles.
We're at a point at the moment where we're so caught up in what was that the joy of something that reminds us of childhood is more exciting than the possibilities ahead. That makes sense, because when Snickers was Marathon, things were more certain, more straightforward, more secure. Because before we went into Europe we were more sure of our identity, surely we just leave and things will just fall into place? Because when church was thriving, we did things this way, surely if we did that again, church would again rise up and be counted?
A 21st century Marathon is still a 21st century Snickers in disguise. The nostalgic name changes nothing.
The prophet Jeremiah in Jer 6:16 says this:
"Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls"
The ancient paths that he talks about are not 30 years ago when Snickers were called Marathon.
They're not even those however many years ago when churches were full and thriving.
They're not even sixty years ago before our path into the EU (as it is today) began.
They are not nostalgic paths, but they are the routes that God has laid down.
In the midst of nostalgia rising from uncertainty, which while nice, should not determine our direction, we must remember that the ancient paths are not how things used to be, but that the good ways are the ways of God, and that is where certainty lies. In our steps ahead, a pause to look up and out and not inwards might stop lack-of-snickers diva like behaviour from becoming the norm.
(Perhaps the House of Commons needs a snickermarathon stock)
They clearly didn't listen to me (as they changed the name to Snickers). Their advertising campaign for it being a cure for food anger actually probably relates more to me than me ever being a marathon runner....
But now there is an air of celebration about because for a limited time only the name has gone retro. We've got Marathon again. We've come home.
Home to a place of nostalgia. Changing the name back doesn't mean the flavour has changed. It doesn't mean that the shrinkage that I have no doubt has happened has been reversed. It just brings an air of familiarity in uncertain days. Remember the days when they were called Marathons? They were happy days.
When they were called Marathons I was a little person and despite tweenage angst and my struggles with making friends that stuck I was happy. I went to school, tried my girly swot best, grew my own personal faith and was secure and safe.
But since then? Life has changed, and although life is quite tough right now because everything is changing, it doesn't mean that clutching onto a name that means less than it implies is going to help me step forward into the future. Life isn't always going to be the same, and the names and products that were there when I was growing up (and this country was in a much better place) aren't going to make life any better for more than a moment.....
Because a Marathon is still a Snickers, and while it will help me with my food anger, it won't help me run 26 miles.
We're at a point at the moment where we're so caught up in what was that the joy of something that reminds us of childhood is more exciting than the possibilities ahead. That makes sense, because when Snickers was Marathon, things were more certain, more straightforward, more secure. Because before we went into Europe we were more sure of our identity, surely we just leave and things will just fall into place? Because when church was thriving, we did things this way, surely if we did that again, church would again rise up and be counted?
A 21st century Marathon is still a 21st century Snickers in disguise. The nostalgic name changes nothing.
"Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls"
The ancient paths that he talks about are not 30 years ago when Snickers were called Marathon.
They're not even those however many years ago when churches were full and thriving.
They're not even sixty years ago before our path into the EU (as it is today) began.
They are not nostalgic paths, but they are the routes that God has laid down.
In the midst of nostalgia rising from uncertainty, which while nice, should not determine our direction, we must remember that the ancient paths are not how things used to be, but that the good ways are the ways of God, and that is where certainty lies. In our steps ahead, a pause to look up and out and not inwards might stop lack-of-snickers diva like behaviour from becoming the norm.
(Perhaps the House of Commons needs a snickermarathon stock)
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