God's Warrior

By Corin McCoy-Barba

Corin is a warrior of God. Every day she fights the toughest battles that God has given her. She is a lady of visions and discernment. The enemy has been attacking her since she was a child, and now it is attacking her family. But through the power of God and the visions he gives her, she is able to help them. Everybody goes through the hardships of life, but through the power of God, you can fight through it and become God's most valuable warrior, even in the hardest of times. As you read Corin's story, she will tell you her life's toughest battles that she has fought in her everyday life so that people may understand that God is there in all circumstances and in all places. No matter what you are going through, God is there for you and is waiting for you to join his army and trust in his leadership, even in the most difficult of times.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781645150459

Book preview

The Beginning

As a child, we fear things like monsters under the bed, strange noises in the dark, things we think are there, hiding in the night. It is only when we get older that we tell ourselves nothing is there, and we did not just see what the world would view as crazy or insane. We justify it to what we think to be normal and shoo away the impossible or what the world would think was impossible. Yes, sadly, even Christians are guilty of this. As I began to tell you my story, please keep an open mind and began to believe that the impossible can be possible. As with God, anything and everything is.

The Enemy came for me when I was brought into this world. The Enemy saw the light that God had sent and wanted to burn it out, stomp on it, and crush it like a bug before it became too big. I will tell you the story of my life and how I have lived it and share how I struggled, I did exactly what the enemy wanted and refused to listen to God. Luckily for me and many others, God’s grace is everlasting. His love is forever.

I was born into a drug-addicted home. I was almost two when my father took his life; he was a man who fought with his own demons and unfortunately lost his own battles. But how could he have won when he did not truly believe in the power of God? He was fighting that spiritual war within himself. He was twenty-three years young when he took his own life, and even though I was only a year and a half, I can tell you it left a hole in my heart so big that even today I can feel the pain and loss of not having that father figure. I would never know the kind hug or love from a father; never know what it was like to have that fatherly bond or to be Daddy’s little girl; never celebrate Father’s Day with my own father; never dance with him on my wedding day. He would never know the children that I have raised on this earth, and they would never know him. That is what the enemy took from me he—stole it like a burglar in the night, never to return. My father was abused by his father, and his father was abused, and abetted by his parents, the abuse went on for generation after generation. The demons found their way in the cracks and never left. There is so much more to this story, but it is not mine to tell. So I will leave it alone and call it what it really is. A tragedy.

After my father’s death, my mother lost her mind for very long time. Her story may be different than mine, but this is my perspective and my story of how I have viewed my childhood. My grandmother, May was my father’s mother, she went after full custody of me and lost. She only got every other weekend. I think that was a blessing from God, considering my grandfather was a child molester. I am grateful to God to not have to grow up with that man by my side. I remember as a child, I had to be perfect, and every time I was at my grandma’s she always loved to dress me up like a doll. She would tell me stand straight. Put your napkin on your lap. Don’t do this. Don’t do that. I suppose that is just who she was. I remember she always slept in the same room with me to make sure my grandfather did not come in. I could not comprehend at that time why, but now I know why—it was for my own protection. I think the courts must have overlooked the fact of my grandfather was an abuser. Or it could be that none of his victims came forward, although I guess it would have been kind of hard for my father, as he was no longer on this earth. I always stayed away from my grandfather as much as I could. He made me very uncomfortable. I had the Holy Spirit, even as a child, guiding me, and I knew something was very wrong with that man. There was something inside of his soul that was dark. When going over my grandmother’s, I was always asked uncomfortable questions about what was going on at my mom’s house. It became a routine every other weekend. They would sit me down in a chair, ask me five hundred questions or so. It seemed like five hundred questions. They would write things that I would say in a binder and on a calendar. My grandmother always had the attitude of being uptight and acted as if she was better than others. And so I was taught to act better than others. My grandmother was notorious for making fun of others. They were never better than her. Something was always wrong with the ones that looked beautiful or had a beautiful life. She would always find something wrong with them. I realize now it was only because of her own self-doubts and insecurities. Later on, when I was older, I found out my beloved grandmother was an alcoholic due to my grandfather’s abuse. She knew all along he was molesting his own sons and did nothing about it. It was too hard for her to see that my father’s blood may have been on her hands, so she had to find fault in everyone else but herself. I was taught to hate my mom and everything about her. I was told how horrible she was and what a disgusting person she was, so when I would go back to my mom’s, I would always run to my room. But sometimes, it was better that way. She was wrapped up in her own demons. I always thought she hated me and blamed me for my dad’s death; at least, some days, it felt that way, it seemed as if it was never ending. There where some good times, like when my cousins would come over, we would have a blast doing kids things and, of course, getting into things we were not supposed to, but even those days would soon come to end, as every one of my cousins turned into drug addicts. It has broken my heart to see it even to this day. At my mother’s, I remember being at party’s as a child with drugs, alcohol, and stolen goods. I remember knowing, even as a child, how wrong it was, and how badly I wanted out of being in that kind of lifestyle.

Life with Mom

My mom was five feet six inches, with thin brown hair and a thin build. Her name is Rebecca. My mom met a man named Nate, and from the first time I saw him, I knew he was bad news. Something about him just did not sit right with me. I studied him for a while and decided What difference did it make?

We moved to my Grandma Barb. I liked it. I loved her; she made my heart happy. She would let me get away with things like saying the word damn and not getting in trouble. Yep, I loved that woman. She made me feel safe, and most of all, loved, if even just for that moment.

My mom gave birth to another little girl. Her name was Candy. I really enjoyed her. I mean I did do some mean big sister things, but for the most part, she was my little sister and I loved and still do love her very much.

A few months later, my mom got pregnant again. This time with a boy. His name was Bedale. We moved a few times, but eventually landed at a house that really taught me that there is more to this world than what we can see. We lived in this house for about a month when really strange things started coming to life. From what I can remember, there was a time when I had a hard day and I was dead asleep. I felt something grab me. It felt as if I could not breathe, like someone had placed their hand over my mouth and face. I tried to move but could not. I was paralyzed. At first, I thought my mom has finally decided to kill me, but I did not hear anyone breathing. I just felt darkness. My second thought was, I knew that when you are in trouble, you must pray to God, so I did, and as soon as I did, the darkness lifted and I gasped for air. I looked around. No one was there. I was terrified. I tried to turn on my light, but it would not turn on, so I went to the bathroom. That one did not