snickermarathons

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)

World Famous Market Theology

I live in Bury - I don't normally say that because Ramsbottom is one on its own - it's a unique and sparkly bohemian enclave of surprises - but it's in Bury (despite what some people might like to argue and think). 

Bury as a borough is diverse, and in Bury town centre that diversity comes together in all its sometimes bizarre, often confusing, always beautiful, glory. I rarely leave Bury having not been surprised by what I have witnessed. Last weeks visit did not disappoint, as I walked up from the car garage, leaving my car to be serviced, I had the chance to spend more time there then I normally do.... with the slightly off key x-factor wannabe on the main street and the arrival of a new building to draw attention away from the shops left empty because of the aspiration of a town that tries really hard. 

Bury is famous for a couple of things. It's famous for its Black Pudding and it's also famous for its market. World famous actually. Sitting at the back of the second nicest shopping centre out of the two in the town, it stands proud as signs point to the coach pick up point where coaches gather to wonder why this trip is taken by so many from extreme parts of the country to this market in this town where things you could buy in most other small towns just like Bury (apart from the black pudding of course) can be bought. 

As I had a bit of time of unknown length last week to shuffle around Bury I thought I'd give it a go. For the second time in six years I entered the market. I shifted myself away from the meat hall and the fish hall (I've always avoided fish halls in markets) and I wandered, taking it all in. 

And as I wandered I wondered... what is it about this market that everyone loves? It's no different to the markets I grew up with. The clothes are the same. The shops with the biggest bags of sweets you've ever seen are the same. The stalls selling random gifts and velcro slippers and trainers with one letter changed in the name... they're the same. There is a nod to changes in the world as the phone case stall shines out with its jewel backed cases and the Christmas novelty wine jumpers of 2017 have pride of place at the front of the stall.... 

But nothing has changed..... so what is then the attraction of the world famous market?  

It tells of a time that was. As the world moves on, the old school weighing and measuring, the paying in cash, the sounds and smells of the market, it reminds us of how this country used to be. It reminds us of a time when it was simpler - when there were two TV channels and it was rare to have a home phone. It reminds us of the golden age that we look through with our rose tinted glasses and elevate higher than high can be. 

Nostalgia is not a bad thing, because the past is our story, the past is what makes us, the past is how we became the people we are today. The movement in the past helps influence us in the future.

But when nostalgia leaves us in a place where the world famous market is as good as it gets....? When nostalgia becomes a bubble where we're dropped off at the entrance and picked up after a walk round, not daring to leave the world famous part just in case the bubble pops..?

As I reflected on love of the world famous market, and how it would have once been the centre of Bury life,  I thought about church, and our love for the nostalgia of church as centre of society and how that influences the way in which we do many things. If we do this, people will come.... why? Well, we're world famous. 

But we're not, we live in exile, so often only turned to for nostalgic coach trips at weddings and christenings and as visitor attractions and quickly left behind with a bag of goodies (well not even that) to sustain on the journey home. As church sits on the margins of society, then just like it will with the world famous market, it is going to take out of the box thinking and imagination to journey into the future. 

Good job we worship a God who is a God of out the box thinking. This is God who didn't defeat evil with force and strength, but with vulnerability and death. This is God who brought fire in the upper room and gave the disciples the ability to talk in other languages so that they could spread the message to the world who didn't understand the words they spoke. This is God who is world famous because he made and saved the world. 

This is God. 

This is God who calls us to listen, and to leave everything behind and follow him. 

As the market continues to be world famous and separates itself as a museum in itself, continuing to be what was and will continue to be, and as we continue to hold it up high as how things shoulda-oughta be, we need to keep reminding ourselves to stop and look around and imagine and wonder.....  

Because how things have always been cannot be how they forever continue to be.