United Pursuit - Since Your Love Lyrics

Video

Since Your Love (ft. Brandon Hampton) - Official Video

Meaning & Inspiration

I’m sitting here with the ash still under my fingernails, listening to United Pursuit, and that line hits like a punch to the gut: “I am unfulfilled without full communion.”

Most people in the pews talk about communion like it’s a neat little ritual—a wafer, a cup, a quiet moment of reflection. But for me? Communion feels like a desperate necessity, the kind you only realize you need when you’ve been eating out of a pig trough in a far country, starving while everyone back home is sitting at a feast.

I know what "unfulfilled" tastes like. It tastes like copper and dirt. It’s the feeling of running until your lungs burn, trying to fill a hollow space in your chest with things that turn to dust the moment you touch them. I’ve tried to build a life out of everything but Him. I’ve looked for peace in the bottom of a bottle, in the approval of people who didn’t know my name, in the noise of a city that never stops screaming. None of it stayed.

When they sing about being "made by Him" and "made for Him," it’s not some abstract theology to me. It’s a terrifying, beautiful claim on my life. It implies I don’t belong to myself—and thank God for that. Because when I belong to myself, I ruin everything. I’m a wrecking ball. But if I was made for Him, that means even when I was face-down in the mud, smelling like smoke and failure, I was still His property.

There’s that bit at the end—“Since your love got a hold of me.” It’s not graceful. It doesn’t sound like a polite invitation. It sounds like a tackle. Like the moment the father saw the kid coming down the road and didn't wait for him to scrub the stench off—he just ran and grabbed him.

I’m still a mess. I’m still figuring out how to be in the light without squinting like someone who’s lived in a cave for years. Some days, I wake up and the old hunger is still there, nagging at the edges of my brain, telling me I can do it better on my own. But then the song hits that repetition—“You’re my breath, you’re my life, you’re my everything”—and it’s not just a chant. It’s a tether.

Maybe that’s what holiness is for someone like me: just staying tethered to the One who decided I was worth the trouble. I don’t have it all figured out. I don’t even know if I’m "forever changed" in the way the religious folks expect me to be, but I know this: the hunger isn't for the trough anymore. It’s for the table. And for now, that’s enough.