When I am in the Minster, or just walking past it on the outside, I often hear words of admiration. “What an amazing building!”; “How did they build that without a single computer!”; “Look at the glass – it’s so beautiful!”. Perhaps those who have been coming here for several decades stop being awed by this magnificent structure – but I doubt it.

No matter how often you see it, it is always impressive. And no matter how well anyone thinks they know the Minster – every nook and cranny – we all, still, discover new things.

Big buildings, especially big churches and cathedrals, are designed to make us catch our breath. To speak in the materials of this world about another world and a different Kingdom.

To lead us to think beyond the materials from which they are made and to glimpse the glory, the peace, the splendour and the light of what is yet to come.

At the start of today’s Gospel, the disciples of Jesus are impressed by the Temple. Perhaps, like the Minster, the fact that people could bring together such a weight of things was almost beyond belief. “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings”. However, Jesus isn’t impressed. He knows that all kingdoms and empires come to an end. And, when they do, all their splendour turns to dust.

Later, from the Mount of Olives, the sight of the Temple still dominated the view of Jerusalem. A small group of the disciples are eager to know when this destruction will take place, and what will be the sign that it’s about to happen. Jesus answers that it will come, but not necessarily when we think it is due. The trouble we see around us in the world are the ‘birth pangs’ of what is to come.

As we know all too well, conflict and trouble have always been part of the sorry history of humanity. We long and pray for peace; but live alongside the reality of conflict. We all strive, as much as we can, to offer our small contribution to make the world a better and more loving place. That’s our calling and our mission, no matter how little we think we can achieve. We must “seek peace and pursue it”.

Today we will be baptising Ben into the faith at whose heart is the peace of Christ. It is this peace which we are called to seek, and to live out in our lives. This is partly why I love the heart that is depicted in stone and glass in the West window of the Minster. You can look round and look. In the vastness of this building something as human, and as hidden as a heart, is given pride of place. As if to say, no matter how impressive the building, God’s temple is found in the steady beat of a faithful heart. In lives which, even when these stones are turned to dust, are destined to dwell in immortality.

We have seen in the last few days how the Church can fail, all too easily, to put at its heart the love; care; compassion; and wisdom, the world should expect. This failure comes at a cost which is paid by the victims and survivors of abuse. Splendid buildings are not enough to safeguard the lives God loves, and that we – too often – have harmed. To change requires a determined heart, and the tenacity not to ignore the voices and signs of injury.

In a moment in this service Ben’s Parents and Godparents will be asked a very simple question:  ‘Do you turn to Christ?’. To turn means to set out in a new direction, and to follow Christ into all the mess and joy that life brings. We all know that life seldom unfolds in the ways we anticipate. We don’t know what the future will hold for Ben. What we do know, is that Christ promises to be there with us. In happy times and challenging times. To stir our hearts into life and know God’s love deep within our being. It is because God loves us that baptism is given as an unconditional sign of blessing. That through its waters we are born into a new community which has – and will – change the world for the better. It is this faith and hope which is the light carried in the heart of each and every person who comes to be baptised. It is the love which alone will last in both this world, and the next.