In line to the throne of a great nation, highly educated, a leading statesman and great military leader, Moses in the full maturity of manhood renounced the brilliant prospects offering and "refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter . . . esteeming the reproach of Christ greater than the treasures of Egypt.

His name lives for ever though he lies buried not beneath a mighty pyramid but on ''Nebo's lonely mountain," for God's own finger wrote his epitaph - "There arose not another like unto Moses. . . ."

Fifteen hundred years later a small, dark, intense man was given an important mission by the leaders of his nation. His had been a successful career first at the university in his native city, then at the highest centre of learning established by the nation. Pride of race and purity of religion were paramount in his life until the glory of Christ, revealed on the road to Damascus, led to such transformation of life and purpose that he thereafter declared, "But what things were gain to me there I counted less for Christ."

"For Christ," Paul said, "I have suffered the loss of all things."

Or one may think of the early disciples of Christ called to leave the quiet of their humble lives, to endure persecution, exile and even martyrdom. To such men as these there had come a compelling claim greater than all others. They had heard from the lips of Christ the terms of discipleship enunciated so often, so clearly, so compellingly, that they were evermore impressed on their hearts and observed in their lives.

''Lo," said Peter simply and without boasting "we have left all and have followed Thee," thinking as he spoke of Christ's words, "Whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple."

It was the voluntary and unconditional acceptance of such a standard of service which made these early Christians so powerful in their work and witness that within one generation, the Christian faith was spread more widely than in any one subsequent generation.

Today it seems a different standard of discipleship obtains. The original has been whittled away in compromise to the demands of those who are often indifferent or even hostile to Christianity. If the Christian Church be weak today this is the cause. The remedy lies in a return to the old standard.

The average pagan sets a varying standard of conduct for the Christian. It varies from low to high, according to mood or circumstance. To the devout Christian whose life of high spiritual endeavour is a rebuke to the other's sin and selfishness, the appeal is to lower the standard, to compromise and condone and be more as other men are.

Yet to the person who, out of consideration for such an appeal, moves so freely with the world as to be indistinguishable from it, the question may be asked, "How can you, as a Christian, do this?"

It is impossible to please all men especially if we strive to please God. One recalls how the people reacted to the ministry of John Baptist, austere, aloof, condemnatory. "He hath a devil." And of Christ, who came so close to men and spoke so graciously to them they said "Behold a man gluttonous and a wine bibber, a friend of publicans and sinners." The relation of the Christian to the world is not easy to define. Not isolation from others nor yet identification with them but rather separation from them, is needed. A clean break from some questionable activities and avoidance of questionable places of amusement may be the only language some can understand'. Except when he wants to justify his own wayward conduct the average pagan requires a higher standard from the Christian than the latter often realises. His highest commendation is the simple statement, ''He is a Christian."

The non-Christian often reveals remarkable insight into the standard required of Christ's disciples. Indeed, what often deters him from professing faith is the cost of confessing Christ as Saviour and Lord.

A man may sometimes scorn or ridicule Christianity as a refuge for the weak, a religion for frustrated and craven souls. Don't believe him. He knows in his own heart that what daunts him is not the fear of being ranked with weak and petty people, but the fear of meeting fully Christ's demands. His own moral weakness is betrayed. His criticism is a defensive attempt to cover his own cowardice for he knows that sincere confession of Christ may mean the loss of many things.

There are some things in life to be set right, some activities dropped, some ambitions renounced, some friendships broken or readjusted on a higher plane, misunderstanding and perhaps ridicule to be borne. Above all he realises that God's will, not his own, must be done, and that holiness rather than pleasure must be his goal.

The hearts of men have not changed. Nor have the claims of Christ. To the enquiry, "What must I give up for Christ?" the terse and uncompromising reply is, "Everything!" The actual loss may never be suffered, though undoubtedly it was suffered almost without exception by the early disciples for whom Peter spoke, and of whom Paul was an example, and suffered also by the martyrs of the following centuries.

Moreover, their experience has been duplicated not only by Christians in some parts of the world during the recent brutal years, but through the centuries of Christian reform and missions. In the heart of the true disciple must be the willingness if required, to renounce anything, go anywhere and do any work for his Lord.

Conditional consecration is widespread today and also much mock piety. "Lord, I will follow Thee, but . . ." we echo the cry of the half-hearted. "Lord save me but not yet," prayed Augustine, and many voice his plea.

Their desire is to be saved but not sanctified, delivered from the results but not the power of their sin. "Deliver me from hell and take me to heaven, but let me lead my own life on earth" would seem a suitable petition for multitudes.

The standard of discipleship generally shown by church members today is not calculated to gain for this generation of Christians the reputation of those who "turned the world upside down." ''Oh for a thousand tongues to sing" and we fail to use the one we have. Too glibly we say, "All I have is Thine" and perhaps place sixpence in the plate once or twice a week or toss a shilling to some charity in return, all too often, for a ticket in some raffle. The time has surely come for us to cease to play at being Christians and accept afresh Christ's terms of discipleship.

For to us poised on the threshold of the atomic age the alternatives are Christ - or chaos!

How foolish we are to think of and cling to the precious things of a life without Christ as if they were the only precious things, to act as if He who claims all gives naught.

Moses expressed no regrets for the choice which cost him a crown, and Paul does not weep the loss of all things. Rather he counts them but dung that he may win Christ. And their experience has been confirmed by all who have learned to say, "For me life is Christ, and death is gain."

Costly living is fruitful living. Take up the cross and Christ will give the crown. Lose your life and you shall find it.