My plane landed at Indira Gandhi Airport, and as it rolled up to the gate, I began to get nervous. My heart was beating fast, my stomach hurt and tears almost welled up in my eyes. My journey was about to begin.

Rajit, the driver who was to take me from the airport to my hotel, walked me out through the crowd to his car. Immediately as I stepped outside the airport doors . . . it was clear I was in a very, very, um, different place. The air in Delhi is hazy, it's dusty, and there is rubbish lying in crevasses most everywhere. I got stared at a lot. Every few blocks along the roads there are makeshift shelters of used aluminum siding, or just blankets suspended on rope to provide shelter for the homeless. Stray dogs roam around and occasionally fight with each other. Speaking of roaming . . . on our way to Rajit's car, I had to walk around a cow. Yep, I've seen about eight or nine so far, just roaming around the streets. Cows are sacred, and quite useful to the poor and homeless (providing milk for drinking and, perhaps more importantly, dung for cooking-fire fuel). Growing up in Oklahoma cattle country, I know that whether a cow lives in Oklahoma, Texas, England or India . . . it's still one of the dumber animals around.

Also roaming are, sadly, street children. So many of them! In two days as many as 15 children have pressed their faces and puppy dog eyes up against my car window. What adds insult to injury is that the children keep very little of the money they collect: the Mafia is a formidable force in the slums, and they send out children and adults to beg for the day, and collect a hefty cut for "protection and assistance."

Back to my first impressions: it's incredible how anyone gets anywhere on the roads. Riding in a car in Delhi traffic is for thrillseekers only. The lane markers seem to be merely "suggestions," with people just driving where they want, finding openings to pass, and honking to let others know their presence. Weaving and bobbing, coming within 2 inches of a speeding bus . . . where oh where are my Depends? The cars are more like tin cans, and green and yellow motorcycle rickshaws are everywhere. And somehow it works.

Bottom line: my first days here have been sensory overload. I wanted to be out of my comfort zone? Man, I had no idea.

Everything is completely foreign to me, and I feel so exposed, so vulnerable. I was thrilled to finally arrive at my hotel, the Sheraton Maurya (thank you Starwood frequent traveler points!). It's considered a 5-star hotel, and it's lovely. I couldn't wait to get to my room . . . and hide. A thought came to mind of just staying in my hotel room until the 21st when I leave for the Palace on Wheels tour. India? What was I thinking?

My fear was quickly dispelled the first evening. My friends Bernard & Ruth Dudley from South Africa connected me with their friends in Delhi, The Mendies family. Susan was expecting my call, and her youngest son Daniel would collect me at 6pm for dinner. Susan and Charles Mendies are Nepali, and they have three sons: Daniel, David (who, by the way, says "hello" to Beau Barnett in DC) and Jonathan, who is living in Washington DC. David married an Oregonian named Jessica, who is due with their first child in April.

The Mendies's house is beautiful. It's colorful and welcoming. There are photographs everywhere of the family with prime ministers, heads of state, friends from DC, the Dalai Lama and Mother Teresa. In fact, the Dalai Lama's sister attended David's wedding. What must that conversation have been like for a wedding guest . . . what would one say? "Hi, I'm Denise. You say you're the Dalai Lama's sister? Oh . . . how, uh, nice for you. So, I bet the Lama thinks exile can be a real drag, huh?" The Mendieses previously lived in Nepal where they ran their family's orphanage, called Mendies Haven. They moved from Kathmandu to Delhi about 12 years ago simply to be available, trustworthy and encouraging friends to South Asian leaders, members of parliament or others. The dinner was delicious, and the company was such a gift from God. He knew how I was feeling, how nervous and exposed I felt, and he blessed me with a friendly, warm family with whom I shared several friends-in-common from DC. And the wisdom they shared was just what I needed as well.

After dinner Susan and I talked for nearly two hours. The stories of her life were amazing. How she met and married Charles, of their work at the orphanage in Kathmandu, the times Charles and she spent in jail, the VIP's with whom they've developed deep friendships and meet regularly to talk about Jesus. Yes, jail. I surmised that jail in Kathmandu is not exactly like jail in the US. Charles told me about a jailer dragging the body of a dead prisoner right past him. (Note to self: don't get arrested in Asia). Charles and Susan, separately, were arrested for preaching Christianity. During a trip to the US over a decade ago, Charles met with a close friend and man of faith, Doug Coe. Charles was sharing how Christians were persecuted, and how he was fighting-the-good-fight trying to bring people to Christianity. Doug asked, "why?" This question confused Charles. Isn't that what we're supposed to do as Christians? Doug responded that Charles had taken his eye off the ball . . . why is being a "Christian" so important? It isn't about getting someone to join a club; it's about knowing a man: Jesus. And there is a big difference between a religion and the person of Jesus. This perspective changed Charles's life.

Religion is such an integral part of the various cultures in India, and Jesus is a common figure among them all here: he's a prophet, a teacher, an incarnation of one of the Hindu gods, or the savior. The Mendies aren't of any particular religion, and don't even talk about Christianity per se. Religion is how mankind works his/her way to God, rather than God offering a free gift to mankind. Religion immediately puts boxes around ideas and can, certainly in the Middle East and South Asia, cause more harm than good. Susan & Charles simply point to a man and His love: Jesus. And people are interested in learning more and talking about Jesus, in reading the Bible; He is so much bigger than any religion. Knowing Jesus doesn't require a wholesale rejection of one's culture or of Hinduism, Islam, Buddhism, etc. This is a similar worldview that I'm finding in the book City of Joy: the Polish Catholic priest Stephan Kovalski, who came to Calcutta to live in the slums with the poorest of the poor, is all about loving the poor as Jesus would have done. He's all about reaching out to people right where they are, living among them, respecting and appreciating them. It's not about Christianity or about conversion or "religiosity:" it's about a man, His incredible love, and how much He wants us to know Him.

One of Mother Teresa's well known prayers goes something like, "Lord, when people see us, let them see you." Wow, that's a pretty weighty responsibility . . . and perhaps there is no worthier goal. I'm trying to get my arms around this refreshing perspective.