Jesus once appealed to an older scriptural grammar that modern readers sometimes overlook: the Hebrew Bible contains a set of texts that allow for a layered divine economy in which a supreme Elyon (the Most High) presides while other agents — called sons of God or even, in some contexts, elohim/gods — act as God’s representatives, judges, and executors of divine will. This self-contained note argues that the prologue and courtroom scenes of Gospel of John can be read coherently within that matrix, and it explains why such a reading both fits the Gospel’s language and accounts for the dramatic reactions Jesus provoked.
To begin with the prologue’s grammar: John’s opening lines establish three interrelated claims about the Logos (the “Word”): priority, proximity to the God who is Elyon, and participation in divine character. The famous Johannine formula sets the Logos “in the beginning,” places the Logos “with the God,” and then — crucially, in Greek — asserts that “θεός” pertains to the Logos without the definite article. In classical Greek usage anarthrous predicate nouns in this syntactic slot commonly function qualitatively or predicatively rather than as straightforward identifiers. That is, the clause says the Logos is “divine” in character rather than mechanically repeating the article-marked “the God” of the previous clause. When one combines this grammatical observation with the Logos tradition’s roots in Jewish Wisdom and Second Temple tropes about heavenly agents, the prologue coherently names a preexistent divine agent who participates in God’s reality while remaining relationally distinct from the Most High. Such a being can properly be described as “with God” and “divine in nature” without collapsing the One God into numerical identity with every divine title the text uses.
This grammatical and theological posture is exactly what makes Jesus’ appeal to Psalm 82 in John 10 rhetorically effective. Psalm 82 presents a courtroom scene in which God stands in the assembly of the mighty and pronounces judgment on those called “gods” or “sons of the Most High,” even as those figures are declared mortal. Jesus’ citation functions like a rabbinic proof-text: if scripture itself calls certain functionaries “gods” — those who receive God’s word and exercise delegated judgment — then a speaker sanctified and sent by the Father can justifiably claim Son-of-God language without automatically committing blasphemy. The move only makes sense if the Johannine prologue has already allowed for a category of divine agents who are distinct from Elyon yet share in divine agency. If, by contrast, the prologue had intended to announce nothing less than full, numerical identity of the Logos with Elyon, Jesus’ appeal to a subordinate category in the Psalter would be rhetorically puzzling rather than persuasive.
John’s existential “I am” sayings, especially the flashpoint in John 8, fit naturally into the same constellation when understood against the larger Old Testament witness. The present-tense “ἐγώ εἰμι” used by Jesus evokes the Exodus theophany while also asserting priority over Abraham’s chronology; read in isolation it can sound like a stark theophanic claim, and contemporaries sometimes responded as if it were. But the Johannine existential phrase functions most fully when paired with the Son-of-Man and enthronement motifs the tradition elsewhere invokes. In Daniel the “one like a son of man” appears before the Ancient of Days and receives dominion and the right to judge the nations; in Psalm 110 the enthronement language — “The LORD said to my Lord: sit at my right hand” — supplies the royal court idiom that the New Testament authors apply to the Messiah. Together these texts create a scriptural narrative economy in which a preexistent, anointed agent is sent, suffers, is vindicated, and is installed to judge. John’s Logos, who becomes flesh, is thus intelligible as the preexistent, sent agent who participates in God’s authority and will eventually exercise the judging prerogatives set out in Daniel and Psalm 110.
Reading the prologue, John 8, and John 10 together in this way renders the Johannine narrative coherent rather than fragmented. The prologue supplies the metaphysical frame (a Logos with God who is divine in quality), the “I am” sayings supply the existential identification with a preexistent anointed agent, and the Psalm 82 citation supplies the legitimate scriptural precedent for calling such an agent “son of God” or, in certain senses, “god.” The judicial and enthronement motifs of Daniel 7 and Psalm 110 supply the trajectory by which mortality, suffering, and subsequent vindication lead to divine authority and lordship without necessitating that the exalted agent be equated as numerically identical with Elyon.
At the same time, this reconstruction acknowledges the interpretive pressures that have driven other readings. Johannine language is rhetorically intense; the Logos hymnic tone, the “I and the Father are one” language, and narrative moments that invite devotion push readers toward strong claims about the Son’s status. Early Christian worship practices and Pauline and Hebraic exaltation-language likewise contributed to a reading that increasingly treated the exalted Son as an object of prayer and praise. Conversely, post-Temple Jewish theology and later Islamic emphases — each reacting to perceived threats to exclusive divine sovereignty — pressed toward tighter monotheistic formulations that tended to marginalize or reinterpret the Psalm 82 category. The task for the interpreter is therefore twofold: to show that John’s high language can coherently describe a uniquely exalted and participatory lordship without collapsing the Father’s unique position, and to explain historically why later communities moved toward other theological boundaries.
In short, when John’s prologue and courtroom scenes are read against the scriptural web of Psalm 82, Daniel 7, and Psalm 110, the Gospel yields a layered theology in which a preexistent Logos participates in divine reality, is sent and sanctified, experiences mortality, and is vindicated and enthroned by the Most High to judge. This layered reading preserves both the Father’s unique status as Elyon and the Son’s extraordinary role as the anointed judge, and it explains why Jesus could legitimately appeal to Psalm 82 in defending his Son-of-God claim in a Jewish scriptural idiom.
ChatGPT, February 2026, as authored by prompting by Stephen D Green.
Here is a version written specifically for religious readers — people who care deeply about honoring God and listening carefully to what Christ himself taught, rather than engaging in abstract theological debate.
Listening Again to What Christ Himself Taught
Many believers today long for something simple and faithful:
not innovation, not controversy, but a return to what Jesus Christhimself taught about God, about his mission, and about our calling.
If we listen carefully to his own words — especially in light of Psalm 82 — a coherent and deeply reverent understanding of Christ begins to emerge.
This understanding does not diminish him.
It clarifies him.
The One True God
Jesus consistently spoke of the Father as:
- The only true God
- The One who sent him
- The Source of authority
- The One greater than he
He prayed to the Father.
He obeyed the Father.
He submitted his will to the Father.
This alone should shape our theology: Christ’s own posture was one of loving obedience to the Most High.
Psalm 82 and Divine Commission
In Psalm 82, God stands in the divine assembly and addresses beings called “gods” and “sons of the Most High.” These are not rival deities. They are appointed agents — entrusted with authority to carry out justice on God’s behalf. Yet they remain:
- Accountable
- Mortal
- Subordinate to the Most High
When Jesus was accused of blasphemy for calling himself the Son of God, he quoted this psalm. He did not argue that he was the Most High. Instead, he pointed to a scriptural category already recognized: divinely commissioned sons who act in God’s name.
He identifies himself as the one whom the Father sanctified and sent.
This is not self-exaltation.
It is divine commission.
Christ as the Unique, Faithful Son
The apostle Paul preserves this structure. He acknowledges that in some sense there are “many gods and many lords,” yet for believers there is:
- One God — the Father
- One Lord — Jesus Christ
The Father remains supreme.
Christ is the uniquely vindicated Lord through whom God accomplishes redemption.
The letter to the Hebrews deepens this vision:
- Jesus shares flesh and blood with humanity.
- He is made lower than the angels.
- He suffers and dies.
- God raises and exalts him.
His exaltation is God’s act of vindication.
His Lordship is bestowed.
His authority is derived.
He is supreme among God’s agents — yet still the Son of the Most High.
Why This Matters Spiritually
This understanding does not reduce Christ. It magnifies his faithfulness.
It shows:
- A Son who trusted God completely
- A servant who obeyed unto death
- A mediator who shares our mortality
- A Lord vindicated and enthroned by God
It preserves both reverence for Christ and devotion to the Father.
It also restores the ethical urgency at the heart of Psalm 82: divine authority is measured by justice, mercy, and care for the weak. Christ fulfills this perfectly — and calls his followers into the same mission.
A Call to Faithful Listening
Across history, different traditions have emphasized different aspects of Christ’s identity. But for those who desire to hear him as he spoke, there is value in returning to his own words and the scriptural world he inhabited.
The framework is simple:
- One supreme God, the Father
- Commissioned divine agency
- Mortal obedience
- Resurrection vindication
- Exalted yet subordinate Lordship
This vision is not speculative philosophy. It is scriptural, coherent, and deeply devotional.
It invites believers to worship the Father as Christ did, to honor the Son as God’s anointed Lord, and to live as children of God — walking in justice, humility, and faith.
To listen carefully to Christ is not to diminish him.
It is to honor him as he revealed himself.
And perhaps, in doing so, we find not only theological clarity, but renewed spiritual life.