The Stop and the Go: The Impingement of God Upon Human Consciousness

In The Book of Love I describe how the cross is a theophany, marking no change in the life of God but a revelation of how God has always and eternally felt about us. At the heart of this revelation is a bivalent simultaneity, the cross as judgment upon sin and expression of divine embrace. 

Let me express it this way: The cross is both a Stop and a Go at the same time.

The Stop

In the Infancy Narratives, Jesus is described as a contradiction, “destined…to be a sign that will be opposed” (Luke 2:34). That contradiction comes fully into view on the cross. At the cross, human sin is exposed in all its dismaying grievousness.

The cross stands within history and shouts a cosmic “Stop!” The cross stands as a sign of judgment.

This judgment is not an emotional agitation within the heart of God, nor a divine mood swing. This judgment is a revelation, an apocalypse. As the Gospel of John puts it, “this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light” (John 3:19). Peter, in the book of Acts, describes it plainly: “this Jesus…you crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men” (Acts 2:23). The cross exposes human depravity and wickedness.

As God’s decisive “Stop,” the cross interrupts our attempts to justify ourselves. As Paul writes, “every mouth may be silenced, and the whole world held accountable to God” (Romans 3:19).

As the crisis of humanity, the cross demands metanoia. “Repent therefore, and turn back,” Peter proclaims, “that your sins may be blotted out” (Acts 3:19). Without this turning, you cannot pass. The rebellious and recalcitrant will remain frozen, in judgment, at the foot of the cross.

The Go

And yet, at the very same moment, the cross speaks another word.

“While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). Even more starkly, “while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son” (Romans 5:10).

At the cross we are named and exposed as God’s enemy. And at the very same time, declared as reconciled with God. The simultaneity here is crucial. The cross does not mark the moment God becomes reconciled to us. The cross reveals that God has already made peace.

The “Go” of the cross, our welcome to draw near, is the unveiling of God’s eternal posture of love toward us: “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son” (John 3:16). The “Go” of the cross is the news that God has made peace. Stated ever more strongly: “He himself is our peace” (Ephesians 2:14).

Facing this peace, we again arrive at metanoia. Any remaining movement is ours, to be reconciled to the God who is already reconciled to us: “we implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God” (2 Corinthians 5:20).

The Imbalance

Distortions happen when the Stop and Go are separated.

Stop without Go creates an experience haunted by judgment. The cross becomes a symbol of condemnation, and the Christian life collapses into anxiety, guilt, and fear. The gospel message becomes a “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” sermon. Judgment overshadows grace.

Go without Stop is also problematic. When the cross is severed from judgment, grace becomes sentimental, therapeutic, and affirmational. Sin is minimized, repentance rendered unnecessary, and transformation considered optional. Grace becomes a permission slip for transgression. What remains is what Dietrich Bonhoeffer called cheap grace: “grace without discipleship…grace without the cross.”

Again, what is critical here is the simultaneity of the Stop and the Go of the cross. The cross is a Stop and a Go at the same time. As a theophany, the cross reveals a single unified reality: the God who opposes sin is the same God who has already forgiven us. We do not move from one to the other. We encounter both at once.

In the cross, we are not merely provided a moral lesson about love (the progressive take) or a mechanism of salvation (the conservative take). What we witness a disclosure of God’s very being. The simultaneity of Stop and Go is a revelation of who God eternally is. What we experience as judgment and mercy are, in God, a single, unified life.

The cross, then, is the impingement of that divine life upon human consciousness.

This impingement comes to us as both crisis and embrace. As both dismay and relief. The cross is the exposure of our sin, and the simultaneous announcement of our pardon.

And to repeat the point, what this means is that we witness no change in the heart of God at the cross. We tend to imagine that the Stop turns to Go at the cross, that something changes in God. That wrath is satisfied and judgment completed. But the Stop and Go are not related to each other in a temporal sequence. The cross does not mark a moment where judgment gives way to mercy. The cross does not mark a transition in the life of God. The cross unveils the eternal simultaneity of God’s holiness and love.

And so, the cross stands within history as both judgment and grace. Stop. Go. Not one after the other, but both at once. The cross is the theophany of how we stand in relation to the life of God. And to encounter the cross is to face the truth of that relation. To stand, simultaneously, both condemned and forgiven.

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