The program is state-sanctioned but is now facing a battle at City Hall over a conditional-use zoning permit. At a hearing before the Planning Commission last week, some neighbors — an Eastern Orthodox church across the street, and several local businesses — voiced concern that the program might bring undesirables to the neighborhood, although later it turned out that they hadn't realized the program had already been in operation for more than a year.

Salt Lake City Council member Nancy Saxton was also concerned about the program when she first heard about it, partly because a shelter previously housed at Central Christian Church had resulted in complaints from neighborhood businesses, about men sleeping and defecating on their properties. "I've been very skeptical . . . I probably went in with my hands on my hips," says Saxton. She said she has kept her eye on the property and has asked the police to, also. To her surprise, the police didn't know anything about the program. "I was aghast at first," says Saxton. "Then I thought, 'No news is good news.' " She now thinks of House of Refuge as "an example of a wonderful program that is out in the open."

Adult Probation and Parole checks on the men every week, according to Pastor Rob, and the residents undergo random drug testing. The men must also sign a six-month contract agreeing to the program's strict rules.

"Only those who want to change need apply," says Pastor Rob.

The men must attend Bible study, must read 30 chapters of the Bible each week, and must attend a church of their choice every week. "We don't require that they're Christian," says Pastor Rob. "But to be honest, if they're not Christian they really don't last long."

The men who have come from prison actually fit into the program better than those who come from the streets, says Pastor Steve, because in prison they've become more accustomed to structure and accountability. House of Refuge now requires that men be referred by the Rescue Mission or Volunteers of America, rather than coming straight from the streets.

Like some of the program's current 10 residents, Leo Duran learned about House of Refuge while he was in prison. Duran figures he has spent two-thirds of his life behind bars, going in and out on charges ranging from attempted homicide to parole violations. Like many of his colleagues at the House of Refuge, he also was a drug addict.

"I came to realize that I've been fighting with God," Duran says. "I'm tired of doing it my way. My way doesn't work. I used to think I was a wise and smart man, you know what I'm saying? But I was a fool." He still feels tempted by life's vices, he says, but he has managed to stay clean. "But it's not me. It's God."

And at the House of Refuge, he says, there is a sense of brotherhood he has never known before.

"Unconditional acceptance: that's what I'm getting at this place," agrees resident Curtis Halford.