THE 1720s were a time of upheaval and uncertainty in central Europe. Many were discontent with a lukewarm Church, but felt powerless to speak out for fear of violent persecution. Then a German nobleman offered safety and religious freedom on his estates in Saxony.

Nicholas, Count Zinzendorf, had loved Jesus since he was a child. Now, in his mid-20s, he felt God tell him to do something for poor and persecuted brethren. His invitation drew hundreds of believers from all manner of denominations and he let them build homes in his woodland. However, this motley crew proved to be deeply divided on points of doctrine and stayed in their cliques. Suspicion, envy and bitterness were never far below the surface.

Grieved in spirit, the count visited each family, pouring out his heart and pleading for unity and repentance. In May 1727 he drew up a Covenant of agreement to devote their lives wholly to the Lord and His service. Amazingly, every head of family signed it.

Next the Holy Spirit led the whole group to prayer. The first spur was practical: in a nearby village, a young woman was awaiting execution for murder. They interceded for her and tried to visit her, but were denied. At her public execution, Zinzendorf and the whole fellowship knelt in the mud and wept.

The second spur to prayer was the need for God's power to bring deep unity. Throughout the summer, the community interceded, Zinzendorf often leading the way with tears and loud cries. Groups met in homes to pray and confess their sins. Spontaneous nights of prayer were a regular occurrence.

Zinzendorf brought before the whole group the story and the Rule of Life of the United Brethren, a Christian community that had shared their lives and possessions in nearby Moravia 250 years earlier. Everyone was stirred by their brotherhood vision and their zeal for souls and this became the heart of their intercessions to God.

Throughout July, the sense of urgency grew. A visiting preacher fell to the ground during the service, crying out to God for a new move of His power. In the prayer meetings, many would kneel or lie prostrate, weeping before the Lord. Zinzendorf recorded later:

"Everyone desired above everything else that the Holy Spirit might have full control. Self-love, self-will, and all disobedience were removed under the blood of the Lamb, and an overwhelming flood of grace swept us all into a great ocean of Divine Love."

A Holy Communion service was planned for the middle of August at the church in nearby Berthelsdorf. Everyone came with a deep sense of personal unworthiness and a dependence on God's mercy. During the service, the Holy Spirit descended in power, filling the whole company. Tears, shouts of joy, hugs and loud praise filled the air.

"Great signs took place in our midst", the count recalled. "From that time, scarcely a day went by where we did not behold His mighty workings among us. We returned home from this meeting with peace and joy in our hearts, and over the next days we learned to love." From that day on, they called each other 'Brother' and 'Sister', in living reality.

What had begun as a disjointed group of misfits was forged in the fire of the Spirit into a united body with a vision and a purpose. Seventy-seven adults committed themselves as intercessors to pray for the salvation of souls worldwide. The children also were moved by the Spirit to hold prayer meetings. A Prayer Watch (an unbroken prayerchain covering twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week) was started, which went on for a hundred years!

With this mighty prayerbacking, the 'Moravians' (as they were called) sent teams of evangelists everywhere from Labrador on the Arctic Circle to South Africa, planting churches and building communal settlements - half a century before William Carey, the 'father of modern missions', began his work in India.

One lasting fruit was the impact made by one missionary team (on board ship in a furious Atlantic storm) on a discouraged young man named John Wesley. The founder of the Methodists caught his flame from the fire of the Moravians.