It was always obvious to every premie I knew that Rawat was referring to himself and when he was referring to his father, he prefaced it with something like, "my Guru Maharaj Ji," or "Shri Maharaji said..." or "My Perfect Master." Unfortunately, I was one of those premies who never did fall asleep during his satsangs and did listen to his every word! LOL!
From a rhetorical perspective, however, it's clearly possible to construe his words as referring either to an abstract ideal, or to his father. Why did he never say, specifically, "I am God?" Of course he encouraged premies in the belief that it was he who was the divine manifestation, because why else would you contribute your money and time? This sort of artful con man dodge is one of the things he learned from his father, and it's a standard ploy of the mystagogue tradition, which historically developed as troupes of performers who did magic tricks. It's a sort of "slight of hand." (Max Weber devotes a number of monographs to studying this tradition as he developed his theories about charismatic authority.)
The most damning aspect of Rawat's behavior is not so much his words, but the fact that he never bothered to correct the people who obviously believed him God (which, for instance, did J. Krishnamurti). He sat on the thrones, dressed in the costumes, and accepted declarations of his divinity from his followers. End of story.