Nigerian immigrant Kiki Adebola came to the U.S. to escape a life of crime and poverty. Selling marijuana and providing prostitutes to American G.I’s in Nigeria, life in the U.S. proved to be not much different.

Adebola became a recreational drug user in his early 20s.  And as an undocumented immigrant, he didn’t have access to health care. “I was in need and I couldn’t do anything about it,” he said.

Stories like Adebola’s are common with the residents at the Bowery Mission. Since 1879, the Men’s Mission House, located on 227 Bowery, has been a haven for the homeless, the hungry and the needy.

“We’re just trying to put them back together again, put human life back together again,” says James Macklin, director of outreach at the Bowery.

Alexander Romero spent 22 years of his life on marijuana and cocaine. He is now one of the residents at the Bowery. “The change starts right here,” he says, touching his heart, “the decision to change, that’s the drive.”

Rich spend four months sleeping in cheap motels and subways. When he finally came to the Bowery, he was angry at his wasted life. “It’s upsetting knowing you’re a grown man that got yourself here,” he says.

Steve Zakrzewski came to the Bowery last May. He was a struggling alcoholic that hit rock bottom, tottering between life and death at the hospital. Coming to the Bowery gave him a greater purpose. “I never had that comfort, that peace of mind.”

Apart from providing daily meals and comfortable living spaces, the Bowery has a pointedly Christian mission.

Entering the main foyer, a familiar scripture lines the tops of the walls, “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing,” Matthew 25:35-36.

Outbursts of “Hallelujah” echo from the adjacent chapel where men kneel in prayer, heads bowed, their eyes squeezed shut.

With a 5:30 a.m. wake-up call, discipline and structure are a major part of how the Bowery functions, requiring its members to attend church services and bible studies.

“Growing up is something I missed,” said Romero, who had his first son at 16. “But I get to do it with them.”

In the living quarters, shoes are perfectly aligned against the partitions dividing the bunk bed. Beds are neatly made. At the end of the row of bunks, a set of weights and a leather couch are positioned next to a small bookshelf.

“This is a spiritual walk,” says Leon, another resident at the Bowery. “This is what’s going to keep me when I leave.”