Tanzīh: God is beyond comparison with anything
Nothing is like Him, the Quran says, and Ibn Arabi kept returning to that line. Someone who knows the punishment was deserved tends to picture God as an offended person: keeping score, cooling slowly, remembering everything. Tanzīh takes that picture away, and the relief comes from finding that the coldness you braced for was borrowed from how people behave.
My mercy outruns my anger: the kindness lasts longer than the wrath
God says this in a saying the Prophet passed on. Someone still living inside the damage they caused assumes the anger is the permanent setting and any mercy an occasional exception. The order runs the other way: mercy is the standing condition, and the anger is the part with a time limit on it.
Al-ʿAfuww: the Pardoner who erases
One of God's names, and it carries the sense of wiping something out rather than filing it away. A person holding an old wrong usually imagines it forgiven on paper but still on record, available to be raised again at a bad moment. Under this name the record is gone, so a person stops flinching every time the past comes up.
God is gladder at someone turning back than a man in the desert who finds his lost camel: the welcome is a happy one
The Prophet used that comparison for how a return gets received. Someone coming back after causing serious harm expects a cold door opened with a sigh, pardon squeezed out only after enough pleading. Putting the gladness on God's side means the welcome was ready before the apology, and the person walks into joy instead of being tolerated.
Ḥusn al-ẓann bi'Llāh: expecting good from God
I am as my servant thinks I am, God says in a saying of the Prophet. Guilt quietly lowers what a person expects, and then they keep their distance, which can feel like humility while working like hiding. Someone expecting a grudge acts as though the grudge exists; someone expecting pardon comes close enough to receive it.