Lindy Cofer never meant to relocate to Orange County. She flew in from Kona, Hawaii for what she thought would be a short-term outreach with a few friends from YWAM. But then 300 college students showed up. Then another wave. And another. Before she realized it, she wasn’t visiting anymore—she was leading a worship movement.
Eniola Abioye hadn’t planned on joining either. In 2020, after a season of personal grief and national upheaval, she came to Huntington Beach to pray with a group of 60 young Black Christian leaders from around the country. There was no set agenda, just a simple question: What would God say if we brought Him our pain? For Abioye, the answer was unexpected but direct—write songs. Soon after, she joined Circuit Riders full time.
If you’ve only heard the name in passing, Circuit Riders Music is the worship collective born out of Circuit Riders, a grassroots missionary movement launched by a group of YWAM alumni in 2012. Inspired by the horseback-preaching evangelists of early American revival—John Wesley, Francis Asbury—the modern version traded saddles for sound systems and focused its mission on the college campus. Today, Circuit Riders functions as a discipleship training base, an outreach hub and, increasingly, a home for some of the most anthemic worship music in the country.
It’s not a label or a megachurch. Think of it more like a decentralized movement with a tour bus—and a growing list of songs that are shaping a generation.
“There’s this drive in Gen Z,” Cofer says. “They’re not half-in. They’re not here for performance. They’re hungry for the truth of who Jesus really is, and they want it straight.”
She sees it firsthand. Circuit Riders runs training schools and events across the country, often hosted on campuses or in local churches. And what they’re seeing right now isn’t just spiritual interest—it’s full-blown surrender. Students leading Bible studies in dorm rooms. Worship nights in high school gyms. Teens turning down scholarships to go into missions.
“They don’t care about clout,” Abioye says. “They care about obedience.”
That hunger is what shaped the group’s newest album, I’ve Been Meaning to Say This. It’s the first full-length project to showcase the full range of Circuit Riders’ music community—Cofer, Abioye, Josh Holiday, Chloe Castro, Liv Gaines and others—each bringing their own voice and fire to the project.
The result isn’t merely a worship album. It’s a collective shout.
There’s no wasted space. “All for Jesus” hits hard with a line ripped straight from Galatians: “If I live, I live. If I die, I die. I’m already crucified with Christ.” On “Stand Here,” a quiet gut punch of a lyric—“Put away the phone”—has led to something rare at modern worship nights: silence. And then there’s “Lace Up Your Boots,” Abioye’s spontaneous spoken-word battle cry that’s become an unofficial anthem for the movement.
It wasn’t written in a session or planned ahead of time. One night, Abioye grabbed her backpack, stepped on stage and started preaching—half poem, half fire.
“It just came out,” she says. “And it connected. People started making videos. Messaging us. Saying, ‘This makes me want to pray again.’ That’s when I knew—this is bigger than a song.”
But the music isn’t designed to impress. Its purpose is to disciple.
That conviction is part of what defines Circuit Riders Music. The songs are less about feelings and more about formation. Scripture shows up not just as inspiration but as the blueprint.
“We’re asking, ‘What hasn’t been sung yet?’” Cofer says. “What part of the Word does God want His people singing back to Him?”
There’s also the matter of tone. While a lot of modern worship plays it dreamy or abstract, I’ve Been Meaning to Say This confronts reality head-on. It names things clearly. It says the quiet parts out loud. That’s by design.
“We’ve all walked through the fire,” Cofer says. “These songs were written on the other side of grief, loss, deep surrender. They’re not cute. They’re real.”
Even the album title carries weight. After tossing around more familiar options like “All for Jesus” and “Marvelous,” the team landed on a phrase Circuit Riders leader Nick Brennt offered mid-brainstorm: I’ve Been Meaning to Say This.
“Every song on this record felt like that,” Abioye says. “Something we’ve been meaning to say—to God, to ourselves, to the Church.”
That clarity—the kind born from conviction, not branding—has become a defining trait of the group’s music. And it’s what listeners are resonating with. Videos flood social media of students shouting the lyrics, crying in worship, preaching the words back to each other.
“We want boldness,” Abioye says. “We want people to feel like they’re not alone. That across the globe, the Church is still alive, still proclaiming, still unified in its surrender.”
And yes, the movement is global. Circuit Riders leaders have seen prayer rooms pop up in South Korea, Iceland and Norway. In South Africa and the U.K., students are coming to Christ by the dozens, starting worship nights of their own. One secular newspaper in Scandinavia even ran a headline declaring that “Christianity is trending again.”
Abioye puts it simply: “This isn’t hype. This is the Holy Spirit.”
With more music on the way—including a new album from Riders, the group’s genre-blending offshoot, and another Co-Love project already in the works—Circuit Riders Music is only gaining momentum. But for Cofer and Abioye, the goal hasn’t changed.
“Since the beginning, our goal has not been to fill stadiums or tour or get famous,” Cofer says. “Our goal has always been to remain faithful to our calling.”
Turns out, that’s exactly what this generation was waiting for.
