The Divine Council Part 6: The Unmasking
Isaiah 14, Ezekiel 28, and the Spiritual Powers Behind Earthly Kingdoms
Hello brothers and sisters,
In Parts 1 through 5, we’ve built a comprehensive framework for understanding God’s cosmic government. We’ve defined elohim as a category term for divine power and authority (Part 1), watched God judge His corrupt council in Psalm 82 (Part 2), explored how the nations were divided among divine beings in Deuteronomy 32 (Part 3), witnessed the council present alongside the Trinity at creation (Part 4), and confronted the first great rebellion of the Watchers in Genesis 6 (Part 5). If you haven’t read those yet, I’d encourage you to start there before continuing.
Get caught up on the Divine Council Series HERE.
Now we turn to two of the most enigmatic passages in the prophetic literature. The Bible tells us about two ancient kings, one of Babylon and one of Tyre, in language so extraordinary that it simply cannot be describing mere human rulers.
Or can it?
That’s the question. And the answer, as you might expect from this series, is both/and. But with a twist that has enormous implications for how you understand spiritual warfare, and for how you conduct yourself when engaging the unseen realm.
Let’s get into it.
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A Word Before We Begin: What Jude 9 Teaches Us About Spiritual Authority
I’m placing this section first because I believe it’s the most practically important thing in this entire post. It’s the part that could change how you pray tomorrow morning.
Or even tonight.
In the letter of Jude, sandwiched between the description of fallen angels (which we covered in Part 5) and the condemnation of false teachers, there’s a single verse that should govern every believer’s approach to spiritual warfare:
“Yet Michael the archangel, in contending with the devil, when he disputed about the body of Moses, dared not bring against him a reviling accusation, but said, ‘The Lord rebuke you!’” (Jude 9, NKJV)
Read that again, slowly.
Michael.
The archangel.
One of the most powerful beings in all of creation. The prince who stands guard over Israel (Daniel 12:1). The one who fought the prince of Persia (Daniel 10:13).
In a direct confrontation with the devil himself, Michael did not presume to rebuke Satan in his own authority. He did not “bind” the devil. He did not declare power over him. He said, “The Lord rebuke you.”
He invoked the authority of God, not his own.
If the archangel Michael, a being of immense power and authority, did not dare to rebuke or command the devil in his own name, then no human believer has the standing to do so either.
I need to tell you about something that happened to me recently, because it brought this conviction into sharp focus.
I was volunteering at a Christian concert called Winter Jam. We had all received our instructions and were waiting to be sorted to our places. A woman standing behind me was praying aloud, which was fine. Commendable, even. It was a long, heartfelt prayer for protection and guidance, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I appreciate anyone who prays with that kind of earnestness.
But then it shifted. She started speaking about binding Satan and other spirits. She spoke of taking away their power. She said, using “I” statements that in no way invoked God, she was denying them the ability to harm her and her family.
Now let me say this clearly because it’s important. There was no framework in her prayer of “In Jesus’ name I bind you” or “Jesus rebuke you” or anything of that sort. She spoke in her own authority, as though she personally had the power to command spiritual beings.
It made me deeply uncomfortable. And I’ve been praying for her since, because I sincerely hope the Lord shows her that she cannot bind spirits in her own name.
This is not a fringe issue. This kind of language is common in certain streams of charismatic Christianity. “I bind you, Satan.” “I take authority over every spirit of depression.” “I rebuke every demonic influence in this room.” Often these declarations are made with no reference to Jesus’ name or authority at all. The believer speaks as though they personally possess the power to command the spiritual realm.
But Jude 9 is definitive. If Michael couldn’t do it, you can’t do it. Full stop.
Our authority in spiritual warfare comes entirely, exclusively, and without exception through invoking the name of Jesus Christ and His finished work on the cross. We don’t have independent spiritual authority. We are not little gods. We are redeemed humans who have been given access to the throne room through Christ’s blood. When we pray against spiritual forces, we do so in His name, by His authority, under His power. Not our own.
A believer trying to rebuke or bind a spiritual being in their own authority is at best ineffective and at worst inviting unwanted attention from that being. The sons of Sceva learned this lesson the hard way in Acts 19:13-16, when a demon responded to their unauthorized exorcism attempt by saying, “Jesus I know, and Paul I know, but who are you?” And then beat them up.
Allow me to address one thing before we move on. I’m sure there’s someone reading this that’s thinking, but we, as believers, are indwelled with the Holy Spirit. Doesn’t that give us spiritual authority?
I’ll admit that on the surface that sounds reasonable. Unfortunately, when we look to Scripture that logic just doesn’t hold.
Apart from Jude and the affair with the sons of Sceva (Acts 19:13-16), read 1 Corinthians 4:8, Hebrews 2:8-9, and James 4:7. All of these read together provides the very clear message that while we are indwelt by the Holy Spirit, that does not give us the power to rebuke spirits in our own authority.
Let me speak now, briefly, to anyone who might have been misinformed about all this and has been binding and rebuking spirits in their own power. I don’t say any of this to shame you. There’s no reason for you to feel any guilt. Don’t tear yourself down over it. Those are the tools of the enemy. I say all this to bring it to your attention and to beg you to repent of it and always pray for protection and defense from spiritual forces in the name of Jesus. At His name, every knee shall bow and every tongue shall confess. We can command nothing in our own name, but in His name spoken with conviction, trust, and the strength of His Holy Spirit, there is true power that spiritual beings must respect.
Now, I’m saying all this right now at the start of this article because the rest of it is going to describe the real spiritual powers that operate behind earthly kingdoms. These are not abstract theological concepts. They are dangerous, powerful beings. And the appropriate posture toward them is not bravado or self-proclaimed authority. It’s humble dependence on Christ.
With that established, let’s look at the texts.
The Prince and the King of Tyre: Ezekiel 28
Ezekiel 28 contains two oracles addressed to the ruler of Tyre. And the structure of these two oracles is the key to understanding the entire passage.
The first oracle (verses 1-10) is addressed to the נָגִיד (nagid), the “prince” or “ruler” of Tyre. The second oracle (verses 11-19) is addressed to the מֶלֶךְ (melek), the “king” of Tyre. In Hebrew, these are different words carrying different connotations. Nagid refers to a human leader, a prince or administrator. Melek refers to a sovereign king, and in prophetic contexts, often carries a grander, more cosmic resonance.
The nagid oracle is clearly about a human being. God says to him directly:
“You are a man, and not a god, though you set your heart as the heart of a god” (Ezekiel 28:2, NKJV).
Now, let’s notice one thing here. In the Hebrew, there are two different words for “God” being used in this verse. The first (in “you are a man, and not a God”) is 'El (אֵל), which is a standard word for a singular mighty god. But in the second instance (“though you set your heart as the heart of a god”) the word is elohim, which, as we established in part 1, is a category term referring to spiritual beings with some degree of divine power.
There are several interpretations for why Ezekiel weaves back and forth between these two terms throughout this passage, and I’d encourage you to look into those. For our purposes here, It’s worth noting that there is a difference in terminology that seems to imply that the prince of Tyre was somehow trying to move beyond the confines of humanity to take on divine power, which fits with where the chapter goes with it.
Now, the prince of Tyre is a mortal who has become arrogant because of his wealth and trading success. He thinks he’s divine, but he’s not. And God is going to humble him.
The melek oracle is something else entirely.
“You were the seal of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty. You were in Eden, the garden of God; every precious stone was your covering... You were the anointed cherub who covers; I established you; you were on the holy mountain of God; you walked back and forth in the midst of fiery stones. You were perfect in your ways from the day you were created, till iniquity was found in you.” (Ezekiel 28:12-15, NKJV)
Read those descriptors carefully:
“You were in Eden, the garden of God.” No human king of Tyre was ever in Eden. The garden was closed after Adam and Eve’s expulsion. Cherubim with flaming swords guarded the entrance (Genesis 3:24).
“You were the anointed cherub who covers.” This language echoes the cherubim who covered the mercy seat in the tabernacle (Exodus 25:20). It describes a being of the highest order, one with direct access to God’s presence.
“You were on the holy mountain of God.” This is the divine council’s meeting place, not a literal mountain in Tyre.
“You walked in the midst of fiery stones.” This is heavenly imagery, not earthly geography.
“You were perfect in your ways from the day you were created, till iniquity was found in you.” No human being has ever been “perfect from the day you were created.” This can only describe a being who was originally without sin, a being who fell from an original state of perfection.
There’s another detail here that’s easy to miss. The text says this being was “created” (נִבְרָאָךְ, nivra’akha). The root בָּרָא (bara) is the same verb used in Genesis 1:1 for God’s creation of the heavens and earth. This is not the language of human birth. It’s the language of direct divine creation. Whatever this being is, it was brought into existence by a deliberate creative act of God, and it was brought into existence perfect. The fall into iniquity came later.
And notice the setting. This being’s covering was “every precious stone” listed in verse 13, a list that overlaps significantly with the stones on the high priest’s breastplate (Exodus 28:17-20). The being walked “in the midst of fiery stones” (אַבְנֵי אֵשׁ, avnei esh), a phrase that evokes the divine presence itself. This isn’t a wealthy merchant showing off his jewelry collection. This is a being of extraordinary beauty and authority, adorned with the same stones that would later represent the tribes of Israel, walking in the fiery precincts of God’s own dwelling.
The purely human reading of Ezekiel 28:11-19 simply cannot account for this language. No amount of poetic hyperbole explains why Ezekiel would say the king of Tyre was in Eden, was an anointed cherub, walked on God’s holy mountain, was adorned with priestly stones, was created (not born) in perfection, and fell through iniquity. This is describing a spiritual being, not a merchant prince.
The LXX/MT Difference: A Critical Detail
Here is where the Masoretic Text and the Septuagint diverge in a way that enriches our understanding.
In the MT of Ezekiel 28:14, the text identifies the king as the cherub: “You are the anointed cherub who covers” (אַתְּ כְּרוּב מִמְשַׁח הַסּוֹכֵךְ, att keruv mimshach ha-sokhekh). The king and the cherub are one and the same.
In the LXX, the text distinguishes the king from the cherub. The Greek rendering separates the figure being addressed from the cherub, reading more like “you were with the anointed cherub” rather than “you were the anointed cherub.” Recent scholarship, particularly the work of Lydia Lee in her 2021 study of this passage, has shown that the LXX translator likely rearranged the syntax to suppress any suggestion that a mortal king could be identified with a divine being. The translator was uncomfortable with the fluid boundary between mortal and divine that the MT preserves.
As should come as a surprise to no one, however, I think there is another possibility. Although the LXX translator being theologically uncomfortable is certainly possible, I lean toward the possibility that the LXX version comes from a different Hebrew source text. There is sufficient evidence from other books that this was a real phenomenon that I don’t think it’s far fetched.
But I won’t beat that dead horse here, since it doesn’t ultimately change how we’re going to approach the matter.
Because in the end, both readings tell us something true.
The MT reveals the identity. The spiritual being behind the throne of Tyre is the cherub itself. The earthly ruler and the spiritual power are so intertwined that the text can address one as the other. The king of Tyre isn’t just influenced by a spiritual being; in the prophetic vision, he is merged with it. The human face and the spiritual face are two aspects of the same corrupt power.
The LXX preserves the distinction. The king of Tyre is a human who was placed alongside the cherub, who had access to the holy mountain because of the cherub’s presence, but who is not himself a divine being. For this text, it was important for readers to understand that no matter how exalted a human king might become, the Creator/creature distinction remains absolute.
Both readings are needed. The MT shows us how intimately spiritual powers operate through earthly rulers. The LXX reminds us that the human ruler and the spiritual power, however entangled, are not the same kind of being.
The Morning Star of Babylon: Isaiah 14
Isaiah 14 presents a similar pattern, though with different details.
The passage begins unmistakably as a taunt against the human king of Babylon. Isaiah 14:4 sets the context: “You will take up this proverb against the king of Babylon...” (NKJV). There’s no ambiguity about the initial referent. This is a prophecy against a human ruler.
But then the language escalates into something that transcends any mortal king:
“How you are fallen from heaven, O morning star, son of the dawn! (הֵילֵל בֶּן שָׁחַר, Helel ben Shachar) How you are cut down to the ground, you who weakened the nations! For you have said in your heart: ‘I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God; I will also sit on the mount of the congregation on the farthest sides of the north; I will ascend above the heights of the clouds, I will be like the Most High.’ Yet you shall be brought down to Sheol, to the lowest depths of the Pit.” (Isaiah 14:12-15, NKJV)
The Hebrew הֵילֵל (Helel) means “shining one” or “bright one.” It appears only here in the entire Hebrew Bible. The LXX translators rendered it as Ἑωσφόρος (Heōsphoros), “bringer of dawn,” the Greek name for the morning star (Venus). Jerome later translated this into Latin as Lucifer, “light-bearer,” which is how the name entered Christian tradition. Modern translations have largely abandoned “Lucifer” in favor of “morning star” or “day star,” returning to the original sense of the Hebrew.
The five “I will” statements are cosmic in their ambition:
“I will ascend into heaven.” Not Babylon. Heaven.
“I will exalt my throne above the stars of God.” The “stars of God” elsewhere refers to heavenly beings (Job 38:7). This isn’t about ruling Babylon. It’s about ruling the heavenly assembly.
“I will sit on the mount of the congregation on the farthest sides of the north.” The “mount of the congregation” (הַר מוֹעֵד, har mo’ed) is the divine council’s meeting place. The “sides of the north” (יַרְכְּתֵי צָפוֹן, yarketei tsaphon) echoes the Canaanite concept of Mount Zaphon, the mountain of the gods. This being wants to sit in God’s seat.
“I will ascend above the heights of the clouds.” Clouds in the Hebrew Bible are consistently associated with God’s presence (Exodus 13:21, Psalm 104:3). This is a claim to transcend God’s dwelling place.
“I will be like the Most High.” The Hebrew עֶלְיוֹן (Elyon), “Most High,” is the very title used in Deuteronomy 32:8 for the God who divided the nations. This being isn’t just ambitious. It’s claiming equality with the supreme God.
No human king, however arrogant, speaks in these terms. Nebuchadnezzar was certainly proud, but his ambitions were territorial, not cosmic. He wanted to rule the known world, not enthrone himself above the stars of God and sit on the mount of the divine assembly. The language has shifted from human ambition to cosmic rebellion.
But here’s where the dual-referent shows itself most clearly. After this cosmic description of the morning star’s fall, the text suddenly pulls back to the human level:
“Those who see you will gaze at you, and consider you, saying: ‘Is this the man who made the earth tremble, who shook kingdoms, who made the world as a wilderness and destroyed its cities, who did not open the house of his prisoners?’” (Isaiah 14:16-17, NKJV)
“Is this the man.” After fourteen verses of cosmic language, the onlookers call him a man. The text oscillates between the spiritual and the earthly, because both are present. The king of Babylon is a man whose ambitions shake kingdoms. The spiritual power behind him is a being whose ambitions reach for God’s throne. The onlookers see the man. Isaiah sees both.
This is what the dual-referent looks like in action. The prophet doesn’t neatly separate the human king from the spiritual power. He lets them overlap, lets one bleed into the other, because that’s how they actually operate. The spiritual and the earthly are not separate compartments. They’re woven together so tightly that even the prophetic text can’t, and doesn’t try to, fully disentangle them.
The Early Church on These Passages
It’s worth noting briefly how the early church read Isaiah 14 and Ezekiel 28.
Tertullian (c. 200 A.D.) explicitly connected Ezekiel 28 to the fall of Satan, arguing that the language of Eden, the cherub, and the holy mountain could only describe a primordial spiritual being.
Origen (c. 230 A.D.) saw in Isaiah 14:12 the account of a spiritual being’s fall from heaven, linking Heōsphoros to the cosmic rebellion against God.
Gregory the Great (c. 590 A.D.) in his Moralia interpreted both passages as describing the devil’s original state and fall, treating the human kings as types or shadows of the greater spiritual reality.
These readings became so dominant in Christian tradition that for centuries, Isaiah 14 and Ezekiel 28 were simply read as accounts of Satan’s fall. The purely human reading is largely a product of modern critical scholarship, which understandably wants to anchor the text in its historical context. And that instinct is good and has its place. The historical context matters.
But the fathers saw something that pure historical criticism misses: the text itself signals that it’s operating on two levels simultaneously.
The Dual-Referent Principle
So what’s happening in these passages? Are they about human kings or spiritual powers?
Both. And understanding this is critical for reading the prophets correctly.
I believe both Isaiah 14 and Ezekiel 28 employ what is called a dual-referent principle. The text begins with a human ruler who is clearly in view. The historical context names him: the king of Babylon, the prince of Tyre. But as the oracle progresses, the language shifts from the earthly ruler to the spiritual power operating behind that ruler’s throne.
This isn’t sloppy writing. It’s prophetic vision penetrating beneath the surface of earthly politics to reveal the spiritual reality underneath. The prophet sees the human king, and then he sees through the human king to the spiritual being that energizes, empowers, and corrupts his rule.
This connects directly to the Deuteronomy 32 framework we established in Part 3. If God assigned divine beings to govern the nations, and if most of those divine beings became corrupt (as Psalm 82 describes), then every corrupt earthly kingdom has a spiritual dimension. The corruption of the human ruler and the corruption of his spiritual overseer are two faces of the same coin.
Ezekiel 28 makes this explicit by using two different words for the two figures: nagid (the human prince) and melek (the spiritual king). The text literally shifts vocabulary to signal that it’s shifting referents.
Isaiah 14 achieves the same effect through escalation. The oracle begins as a taunt against a human king and then ascends into language that can only describe a being of cosmic ambition. The reader is carried from earth to heaven within the same prophetic speech.
This is why both the purely human reading (favored by many modern scholars) and the purely spiritual reading (favored by some popular Christian teachers) miss the point. It’s not either/or. The human king of Babylon was real. The spiritual power behind his throne was also real. Isaiah saw both, and he addressed both, because in the prophetic vision they are inseparable.
The Connection to Ephesians 6
Paul understood this framework. When he writes to the Ephesian church, he makes a statement that should echo everything we’ve been studying:
“For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.” (Ephesians 6:12, NKJV)
The Greek terms Paul uses, ἀρχαί (archai, “principalities”), ἐξουσίαι (exousiai, “powers”), κοσμοκράτορες (kosmokratores, “world-rulers of this darkness”), and πνευματικά τῆς πονηρίας (pneumatika tēs ponērias, “spiritual forces of wickedness”), describe a layered, structured hierarchy of spiritual opposition. These aren’t random demons causing personal inconveniences. These are the governing powers behind the earthly systems of corruption.
Paul’s language maps perfectly onto what we see in Isaiah 14 and Ezekiel 28. Behind the throne of Babylon stands a spiritual power of cosmic ambition. Behind the throne of Tyre stands an anointed cherub who fell from perfection. Behind every corrupt earthly system stands a spiritual reality that the prophets could see and that Paul tells us we’re wrestling against.
This is not a metaphor. This is the structure of reality as the Bible describes it.
If you found this helpful or enlightening, or even challenging, share it with a friend who needs to hear the deeper truths of the divine council.
What This Means for You
If Isaiah 14 and Ezekiel 28 teach us that spiritual powers operate behind earthly thrones, and if Paul confirms that our real struggle is against these powers, then three things follow:
First, you should not be surprised by the depth of earthly corruption. When you see systemic injustice, institutionalized evil, and ideological movements that seem to have a force and persistence beyond what any human conspiracy could sustain, you are seeing the effects of spiritual powers at work. This doesn’t mean every political opponent is demon-possessed or every institution is under direct satanic control. But it does mean that the struggle for justice, truth, and righteousness in this world has dimensions that are invisible to the naked eye.
Second, you should take spiritual warfare seriously, but humbly. Return to Jude 9. Michael didn’t presume to rebuke the devil in his own name. He invoked the Lord’s authority. When you pray against spiritual forces of corruption, you don’t command them as though you have inherent power over them. You appeal to the One who does: Jesus Christ, who disarmed principalities and powers at the cross (Colossians 2:15) and who holds all authority in heaven and on earth (Matthew 28:18).
Third, you should read the prophets with new eyes. When Isaiah addresses the king of Babylon, when Ezekiel addresses the king of Tyre, when Daniel describes the prince of Persia and the prince of Greece, they are not speaking in metaphors. They are describing a layered reality in which human kingdoms and spiritual powers are intertwined. Understanding this framework doesn’t change the Gospel. But it deepens your understanding of why the Gospel was necessary and how far-reaching Christ’s victory truly is.
The powers behind the thrones have been unmasked. And the One who unmasked them has already triumphed over them.
What’s Ahead
In Part 7, we’re going to address a question that’s been building throughout this series: what exactly is the difference between a fallen angel and a demon?
Most Christians use these terms interchangeably, as though they’re just two names for the same thing. But the biblical text, confirmed by Second Temple Jewish tradition and the evidence of the Gospels themselves, draws a sharp distinction between these two categories of spiritual beings.
We’ll examine why fallen angels can take physical form while demons desperately seek embodiment, where Paul’s “principalities and powers” fit in the hierarchy, and what all of this means for how we understand the ministry of Jesus when He cast out demons during His earthly life. It’s a distinction that changes how you read the Gospels.
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