You’ve heard it said, “When in Rome, do as the Romans.” But what do you do when you are smack dab in the middle of a Muslim nation that disdains Americans, offers little respect to women, and is determined to make sure you know it?

During a recent visit to an Asian Islamic nation I couldn’t blend in. I stood out like, well, like an American woman in a Muslim nation. No burka for me. I’m a proud American woman with red curly hair and freckles. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Christ in me seemed to stir the principalities and powers that wondered why I was there.

To say the heavens were hard would be an understatement. To say the people were rude would pay them a compliment. And to say I didn’t struggle to maintain a positive attitude would be an outright lie. You see my appointed escorts took noticeable pleasure in running me ragged, giving me the silent treatment, leaving me stranded at airports and feeding me unclean food. To say I wasn’t working overtime to be diplomatic in the face of this treatment would be less than truthful.

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