Author: Texas Gospel

What Jesus meant by “you will know them by their fruit” in Matthew 7

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JEFF TURNER

Matthew 7’s well-known phrase about knowing people by their fruit is frequently applied to believers as a way of testing whether someone’s faith is genuine, but I believe that reading misses the actual point Jesus was making. Rather than a not a tool for sizing up fellow Christians, isn’t this a warning about false prophets who are skilled at looking like the real thing while leading people astray? I believe Jesus was telling his listeners how to spot a deceiver, not how to audit a believer.

The fruit he was pointing to includes things like moral character, lifestyle choices, and the kind of people who follow and surround the teacher in question.

A false prophet may sound convincing, but a close look at how he lives and who he attracts will reveal the truth.

So then, you will know them by their fruits.

Matthew 7:20


Sonny Clardy signs with Butler Music Group

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Butler Music Group (BMG) has announced the signing of Southern Gospel artist Sonny Clardy to its artist roster.

Clardy, a singer, songwriter, music evangelist, and speaker, has served in full-time ministry for more than 25 years. He’s known for his heartfelt songwriting, powerful vocals, and Christ-centered message that has encouraged audiences across the country.

As part of the new partnership, Clardy is currently in the studio recording a new album under the direction of producer Les Butler. The project features several of Nashville’s top musicians and will showcase Clardy’s signature sound alongside a collection of songs he penned himself.

“I couldn’t be more excited to be working with Sonny on this new album,” said Les Butler, owner and producer of Butler Music Group. “He is an exceptionally gifted singer and songwriter whose music genuinely ministers to people. Every song he sings carries authenticity and a message that reaches the hearts of listeners.”

“I truly believe this will be the finest recording of his career,” Butler added.

Clardy shared his own excitement about the partnership. “I feel honored to have Les Butler produce this project,” he said. “We are looking forward to great things together!”

The album is expected to release in late summer 2026, with more details, including the first radio single and release date, to be announced in the coming weeks.

The weight that grows heavier and the fellowship that must notice

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JEFF TURNER

The longer you walk through the tunnel, the heavier the weight becomes, not lighter. Suffering does not diminish simply because you have endured it faithfully. It compounds. It settles into the bones. And this is precisely why the fellowship of believers is not a luxury but a necessity. We are called to carry one another’s burdens when the load grows too heavy for one set of shoulders.

All of us face trials. This is not the experience of the spiritually weak or the theologically deficient. It is the common inheritance of every soul who draws breath in a broken world. And because all of us face them, all of us need the discerning spirit that can look across the room at a brother or sister and perceive that something has shifted, that the weight has quietly grown heavier than it appears.

Where the love of God is genuinely at work, that discernment is not merely a social grace. It is a gift of the Spirit, and it carries with it a solemn responsibility to move toward the one who is sinking rather than past them.

 Bear one another’s burdens, and thereby fulfill the law of Christ.

Galatians 6:2

A husband’s recovery from alcoholism gave the Jordan family band a new season

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AMY TURNER

There’s a strength that doesn’t announce itself. It shows up in the small, unglamorous moments: showing up to work while your world is quietly falling apart, keeping a family fed and functioning when you feel like you’re the only one holding it together. For Heather Rose Jordan, that strength became so woven into her daily life that she stopped noticing it as strength at all. It just felt like survival.

Heather sings, writes songs, and works as a product manager within The Jordan Family Band, a group built entirely around her family. Her husband Hutch handles production and sound alongside his own songwriting and vocals, and his journey through alcoholism and back out again has become central to how the couple now understands their own story, and how they hope to help others understand theirs.

It wasn’t until a conversation with a client, of all people, that Heather says the weight of what her family had walked through really landed.

“Me and Hutch were talking one morning and I was telling him about a conversation I had with a client of mine about our story,” Heather says. “I told her about the years Hutch spent in alcoholism, about how I felt like I lived as a single mom even though I wasn’t, and then going septic and getting so sick all while trying to open a business. And then came Hutch spending three months away in rehab. And when I finished, she just stopped and said, Heather, I’m so sorry, you’re so strong. I would have never known you went through all that.”

“I told Hutch, even though we’re quickly approaching one year of his sobriety, it truly feels like a lifetime ago,” she continues. “Since he came home, we’ve had so much fun. We’ve laughed, loved each other better, and truly enjoyed our little family so much. God has restored so much in our lives, and it’s hard to believe we were ever that broken. Truly, when we turn to Jesus, I believe he protects our minds from past traumas, shame, and brokenness. Now we get to live fully in his forgiveness and his restoration. And when we look back now, we don’t have to see what Satan tried to destroy. We only see the goodness and the faithfulness of God.”

It’s a lot to carry in one sentence: a business launch, a life-threatening illness, a marriage stretched thin by addiction, three months of separation while her husband got sober two states or two towns away, whatever the distance actually was, it must have felt like the whole world. And yet what stands out isn’t the hardship itself. It’s how quickly, in Heather’s telling, the hardship has receded into something almost unrecognizable, softened by everything that’s come since.

That’s the part worth sitting with. Nearly a year out from Hutch’s sobriety, the Jordans describe a household that sounds almost unremarkable in the best way: laughter, ease, a family simply enjoying being a family. For anyone who has lived alongside addiction, that description is not small. It’s the whole thing.

Alcoholism has a way of convincing the people living with it that recovery is either impossible or reserved for someone else, someone with more willpower, more support, more luck. The Jordans’ story pushes back on that. Hutch’s path out started, as it so often does, with a single admission: that he was an alcoholic, and that he couldn’t fix it alone.

That admission is the hinge point in nearly every recovery story, and it’s the same hinge point the Bible points to for sin more broadly. Scripture doesn’t soften its language on drunkenness, it’s named plainly as sin, but it also doesn’t stop there. The same faith that names the problem offers the way out: confession, surrender, and a willingness to let go of self-reliance.

For the Jordans, that surrender didn’t erase the three months of separation or the years that came before it. What it did was reframe them. Heather doesn’t describe herself as someone who survived a tragedy and is now just getting by. She describes a family restored, laughing again, loving each other better than before.

Jesus said, “I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly” (John 10:10). For a family that once measured its days by how badly they were breaking, that promise of abundant life isn’t an abstraction. It’s Tuesday mornings that feel light. It’s a marriage where both people show up. It’s a household where sobriety isn’t just the absence of drinking, it’s the presence of something better.

8th Street’s Jonathan Thompson on the struggle behind Here Comes The Promise

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AMY TURNER

On 8th Street in Sapulpa, Oklahoma, there’s a little church called Pentecostal Mission where three boys grew up learning about Jesus, and about harmony. Jonathan Thompson, Ivan and Byron came up singing together in that building before life pulled them in different directions. Careers, families, distance. The kind of things that quietly end a lot of groups before they even start.

But in early 2017, something brought them back. They found themselves standing next to each other again, singing the same songs they’d grown up on, and the group that would become 8th Street was born from that reunion, named for the road that led them to church as kids.

Their latest single, “Here Comes The Promise,” carries that same thread of return, of finding your way back to something solid when life gets heavy. Thompson wrote the song, and he says the meaning isn’t buried too deep.

“The second verse of this song kind of goes more into letting everybody know that we’ve all been there,” Thompson explains. He’s talking about the moments that knock people sideways, the ones that feel unmanageable in the middle of them. “We’ve all had those things in our lives that come up that just feel like something we can’t handle.”

The verse he’s describing speaks to a friend caught in a struggle, unsure what to do, trying to carry it alone. It’s a scenario Thompson knows from the inside. “I’ve been there,” he says. “I’ve done that.” He admits there’s something almost stubborn in how people, himself included, keep reaching for their own solutions. “Sometimes I don’t know why, when we’ve got an almighty God, that we just want to try to do it our way.”

The answer the song offers is simple, and it’s the whole point of the title. Cast your cares on the master, it says.

“That’s exactly what we need to do,” Thompson says, “because I think when we do that, we just feel those arms encircle us, and we know that he is there for us, and those promises are going to come through.”

That sense of promise fulfilled isn’t just a lyric for 8th Street. It’s the arc of the group itself: three friends from a small church on a small street, who walked away and found their way back to the same harmony they started with.