Healing from these wounds does not come through mere self-analysis but through divine illumination. God knows us intimately—our innermost being—with perfect precision, far beyond what we can understand ourselves. The key metaphysical insight is that true self-knowledge is rooted in theocentricity: we remain mysteries to ourselves until seen through His lens, where objectivity unifies our fractured sense of self. As we meditate on this divine mystery, we realize that human efforts to define or understand God and ourselves often multiply enigmas. Yet, in seeking Him amid the vastness, we are ultimately found. The balance is not something we achieve through effort but a gift of grace—a process of being consumed and transformed, of being simultaneously distant and near, dependent and dignified, in the eternal dance of unity and distinction that defines the very nature of God Himself. The disconnect we experience stems from our lack—our inability to meet the divine "need" for objective fulfillment. This need is fundamental and existential, a void created by sin, which demands fulfillment beyond ourselves. God's word—manifested in Christ, spoken through Scripture, whispered by the Spirit—bridges this chasm, providing the means for dependence and relationship. True dependence on God is not slavery but freedom: it involves relinquishing our self-made identities in favor of the identity He grants—an objective identity rooted in His unchanging essence. Exposure to His truth reveals this: we find truth not in our own fabrications but in His self-revelation, the only true and unchanging image of reality. Everything else—our perceptions, ideas, or constructions—is shadowy and distorted, often hiding wounds and secret places of the heart, places only He can penetrate with holistic objectivity. These divine persons are not three separate gods but one God in three hypostases—meaning three distinct persons who are fully and equally God, sharing the same divine reality and existing coeternally. The unity of God is not a simple uniformity but a profound perichoresis—a mutual indwelling—where the persons interpenetrate without confusion or separation. Each person is fully God, yet they are distinguished by their relational modes: the Father begets, the Son is begotten, and the Spirit proceeds. The Son is not a lesser copy of the Father but the perfect reflection of the Father—His eternal Word or Logos—through whom all of creation is ordered and understood. This divine objectivity is not merely an external standard imposed upon God but is inherent to His very being. God is not objective in the way a detached observer is; rather, He is the source and ground of all truth, embodying objective reality itself—where subject and object are united in perfect self-knowledge. In God's eternal unity, there is no need for reduplication as humans understand it—no parts added or divided. Instead, the persons exist in a relationship of mutual indwelling, each fully sharing in the divine essence. The Father’s knowledge of the Son is the Son’s knowledge of the Father, and the Spirit is the bond of love between them, spirating their unity. Human attempts to comprehend this often lead to errors—either modalism, which collapses the persons into mere masks or modes, or tritheism, which divides the divine into separate gods. Yet the divine mystery persists: the one divine essence manifests in three relational persons, where distinction does not threaten unity but enhances it. This is a reality too vast for finite minds to fully grasp; our thoughts can only glimpse shadows of the unapproachable divine light. Our relationship with this God—who is both immanently near as breath and transcendent as the wholly Holy—reveals the paradoxical nature of divine objectivity. We encounter God not simply as an object among others but as the Subject who sustains and orders all things, including ourselves. The proper approach to understanding God is through apophatic theology—affirming what He is (such as love, goodness, truth) while acknowledging what He is not (finite, limited, comprehensible in full). We are not His equals in dialogue, but creatures dependent on His self-revelation; our identity is derived from His divine image, distorted by our finitude yet capable of redemption through grace. To seek God is to find Him—not through intellectual dominance but through surrender—allowing ourselves to be consumed by His otherness. This divine "consumption" is not annihilation but transformation: the soul, drawn into divine mystery, finds its true self in what He defines as identity. Without Him, we stumble in subjective illusions; in Him, objectivity becomes participatory—where we come to know as we are known, and our fragmented selves are healed in the mirror of His eternal truth.