{"id":4626,"date":"2026-08-15T08:57:31","date_gmt":"2026-08-15T06:57:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/timotheepaton.com\/?p=4626"},"modified":"2026-08-15T08:57:31","modified_gmt":"2026-08-15T06:57:31","slug":"mon-papa-matthew-paton","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/timotheepaton.com\/en\/mon-papa-matthew-paton\/","title":{"rendered":"MY DAD, MATTHEW PATON"},"content":{"rendered":"

On August 4, 2026<\/strong>, in a hospital room in Roubaix, my father went to be with the Lord.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On his nightstand, I found three things that so perfectly represent what truly mattered in his life:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His Bible.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ever since his conversion, my dad never stopped reading the Scriptures, every day. In his biography \u201cIn France as in Heaven\u201d, he recounts how, as a young believer, he enlisted in the British Army: \u201cI was a new convert, without a church, without a pastor. But I had the Word of God in my luggage. It was undoubtedly that New Testament\u2014which I read every day\u2014that enabled me to stand firm in the faith. \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was also from the pages of the Bible that he drew inspiration for hundreds of sermons preached throughout Central France, Northern France and elsewhere.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His favourite biblical story is probably the one of Joseph (Book of Genesis), who was sold by his brothers into Egypt. Their reunion and forgiveness, so many years later, often brought my dad to tears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An old French hymnal \u2018Ch\u0153urs et Cantiques\u2019.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Throughout all his years in France, Dad never stopped singing those Gospel songs. With his beautiful voice, he led the singing with the congregation at the various churches where he served as a pastor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the very day he departed for Heaven, I was sitting at the edge of his bed. I opened the little song book to sing the famous chorus: \u201cI know that one day my eyes will see Jesus, if I walk by faith to the very end, despite everything, I know that one day, my eyes will see Jesus\u2026\u201d<\/em> Little did I know that on that very day, he would close his eyes here on earth, only to open them again in Heaven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was sitting on the edge of his bed in his hospital room. 50 years ago, he was the one in my room, sitting on the edge of my bed. I was only 4 years old, and he led me to Jesus.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then the other day, on his nightstand I found:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Evangelistic tracts.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the early 1960s while studying at WEC\u2019s missionary school in Scotland, my Dad got down on his knees to make a radical decision: to commit to share the Gospel with someone every day of his life. He kept his word.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFaire son choix\u201d (Make Your Choice) is the title of those few leaflets found the other day. Gospel tracts he didn\u2019t have the strength to hand out. Yes, you have to \u201cmake your choice.\u201d These three words sum up the invitation at the end of every evangelistic sermon my Dad gave : \u201cChoose! Choose between the broad path and the narrow path, between darkness and light. None of us can remain neutral before the Cross of Jesus\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not long ago, I was accompanying my parents on their daily walk in the park across from their flat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ll never forget that scene which lasted only a few moments: my dad was walking with difficulty. He spotted a jogger in the distance. Immediately, he made the gesture he\u2019s made every day for over 60 years: pulling a tract from his pocket. I thought to myself, \u201cNo, Dad isn\u2019t  going to give it to him. It\u2019s not really the right time to hand a flyer to a man who\u2019s running.\u201d My father leaned forward, teetering on his frail legs, and held out the precious piece of paper. The jogger grabbed it as he passed and called out, \u201cThank you, sir!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dad often put into practice the Apostle Paul\u2019s exhortation to Timothy: \u201c Be ready in season and out of season\u201d.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

When my father<\/strong> was taken to the ICU, I was on the phone with one of the nurses who told me, \u201cLately, your dad has been speaking to us only in English.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I replied, \u201cOh, that\u2019s not like him. He\u2019s always spoken French in France! \u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then she added, \u201cAnd he keeps talking about Jesus, Jesus\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then I thought to myself, \u201cAh, that\u2019s him alright!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the funeral, held at the Evangelical church in Roubaix, there was a nursing assistant in the audience. He had cared for my dad during his final days. He had confided in me in the hospital hallway: \u201cThe last words I heard from your father were these: \u2018I prayed to God, and help arrived\u2019. Your dad insisted: \u2018You have to listen to me: I prayed to God, and help arrived\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My dad<\/strong> was the best father a son could have.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A man faithful to God, holy, upright, humble, exemplary, and full of love.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If I had to sum up his life in a single sentence: \u201cHe loved God; he loved people\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The other day,<\/strong> in Wattrelos on the Belgium border,  I met Lysiane, an old lady who told me:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt was a day of despair back in February of this year. I was walking my dog in the park. I had so many problems.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I saw a man and a woman next to her walker, sitting on a bench.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man asked me, \u2018How are you?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I replied, \u2018I\u2019m not doing well.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He then told me about Jesus, took my hand, and prayed with me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Today, I can say, \u2018Jesus as my Savior. He saved me on the Cross, and God is my Father. Every night, I pray to Jesus\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I left that elderly woman, deeply moved I thought, \u201cShe\u2019s surely one of the very last people Dad led to Jesus\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What a wonderful Dad you\u2019ve been Papa! <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Timoth\u00e9e<\/em><\/strong> <\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

On August 4, 2026<\/strong>, in a hospital room in Roubaix, my father went to be with the Lord.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":4627,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4626","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-non-classe"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/timotheepaton.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4626","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/timotheepaton.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/timotheepaton.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/timotheepaton.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/5"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/timotheepaton.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4626"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/timotheepaton.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4626\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4628,"href":"https:\/\/timotheepaton.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4626\/revisions\/4628"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/timotheepaton.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4627"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/timotheepaton.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4626"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/timotheepaton.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4626"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/timotheepaton.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4626"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}