The Crown That Echoed Around the World

On June 2, 1953, twenty-seven million people in Britain alone watched something unprecedented — a coronation broadcast live on television. Inside Westminster Abbey, the young Elizabeth Alexandra Mary knelt before the Archbishop of Canterbury, Geoffrey Fisher, as he lowered the ancient St. Edward's Crown onto her head.

At that precise moment, every peer and peeress in the Abbey raised their coronets and placed them on their own heads in one unified motion. The congregation shouted, "God save the Queen!" Trumpets sounded. The Tower of London thundered with cannon fire. Outside, despite cold rain, three million people lining the streets erupted in celebration. The weight of an empire — nations spanning six continents, peoples speaking hundreds of languages — transferred to one figure in a single, breathtaking moment.

Daniel saw something infinitely greater. In his vision, the Ancient of Days — the Almighty robed in white as snow, His throne ablaze with fire — presided over a court attended by ten thousand times ten thousand. Then one "like a son of man" approached on the clouds of heaven and received what no earthly coronation could ever bestow: dominion that will never be destroyed, glory that will never fade, a kingdom encompassing every people, nation, and language — forever.

Elizabeth's crown now rests in a museum case. But the authority Daniel witnessed being conferred has no expiration, no successor, no end. Every knee will bow before that throne — not because tradition demands it, but because the One who sits there is worthy.