Trinity St. Andrew’s United Church
Order of Worship
Sunday, September 6th 2026
The Gospel According to Munsch: We Share Everything
Prelude
Welcome & Telling Our Story
GATHERING
Introit
Call to Worship
Friends, we have come together as God’s people because God has called us to this time and place. We come with what we have: our joys and our worries, our plenty and our not quite enough, our willingness and our hesitation.
And God says there is room for you here. So let us worship the God who teaches us that we are not alone, that our lives belong together, and that there is always enough grace to share. Let us worship God together.
Hymn Draw the Circle Wide MV 145
Refrain: Draw the circle wide. Draw it wider still.
Let this be our song, no one stands alone,
standing side by side, draw the circle wide.
- God the still point of the circle,
‘round whom all creation turns;
nothing lost, but held forever,
in God’s gracious arms. Refrain
- Let our hearts touch far horizons,
so encompass great and small;
let our loving know no borders,
faithful to God’s call. Refrain
- Let the dreams we dream be larger,
than we’ve ever dreamed before;
let the dream of Christ be in us,
open every door. Refrain
Gathering Prayer & Assurance of Grace
Gracious God, we know how easy it is to say, “That’s mine! Mine to keep. Mine to protect. Mine to worry about. And then you gather us together and remind us that life was never meant to be lived in isolation. Teach us to loosen our grip, to notice the needs around us, and to discover the joy that comes when what we have becomes a gift to someone else. Make us a generous people with our possessions, with our time, with our forgiveness, and with our love. Gather us into your joy this day and remind us once again that there is no boundary to your all-encompassing love. Amen.
Time for the Young & Young at Heart
Hymn All Creatures of Our God and King VU 217
- All creatures of our God and King,
lift up your voice and with us sing:
hallelujah, hallelujah!
Bright burning sun with golden beam,
soft shining moon with silver gleam,
sing praises sing praises,
hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah!
- O rushing winds and breezes soft,
O clouds that ride the winds aloft,
sing praises, hallelujah!
O rising morn, in praise rejoice;
O lights of evening, find a voice:
sing praises, sing praises,
hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah!
- Earth, ever fertile, day by day
bring forth rich blessings on our way:
sing praises, hallelujah!
The flowers and fruits that verdant grow,
Let them God’s glory also show:
sing praises, hallelujah!
hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah!
- And everyone of tender heart,
forgiving others, take your part:
sing praises, hallelujah!
All who long pain and sorrow bear,
praise God and yield up all your care:
sing praises, hallelujah!
hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah!
- Let all things their Creator bless,
and worship God in humbleness:
sing praises, hallelujah!
Praise God eternal, praise the Son,
and praise the Spirit, three in one:
sing praises, hallelujah!
hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah!
WORD
Prayer for Illumination
God of generosity, open our hearts as we open your Word. Help us hear what you are saying and see how you are calling us to live together as your people. Give us courage to share, wisdom to care, and joy in discovering that your grace is always enough. Amen.
Scripture Acts 4:31-35 Peter Raaphorst
Sermon “From Mine to Ours”
Special Music Ross McEwen
Hymn I Danced in the Morning VU 352
- I danced in the morning when the world was begun,
and I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun,
and I came from heaven and I danced on the earth;
at Bethlehem I had my birth.
Dance, then, wherever you may be;
I am the Lord of the dance, said he,
and I’ll lead you all, wherever you may be,
and I’ll lead you all in the dance, said he.
- I danced for the scribe and the pharisee,
but they would not dance and they would not follow me;
I danced for the fishermen, for James and John;
They came with me and the dance went on. Refrain
- I danced on the Sabbath and I cured the lame,
the holy people said it was a shame;
they whipped and they stripped and they hung me high,
and left me there on a cross to die. Refrain
- I danced on a Friday when the sky turned black;
it’s hard to dance with the devil on your back;
they buried my body and they thought I’d gone,
but I am the dance and I still go on. Refrain
- They cut me now and I leap up high;
I am the life that will never, never die;
I’ll live in you if you’ll live in me;
I am the Lord of the dance, said he. Refrain
RESPONSE
Thanksgiving & Offering
In Acts, the early church discovered something important. When everyone looked only after what was theirs, there was never quite enough. But when they began to share, something changed. Needs were met. People were cared for. And the church became a place where everyone could belong. Our offering is one small way we continue that story. So today, we give not because God needs our money, but because the world needs God’s generosity— and God has invited us to be part of it. Let us give with generous and joyful hearts as we sing our offertory hymn.
Offertory Hymn Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow VU 541
Praise God from whom all blessings flow;
praise God, all creatures high and low;
give thanks to God in love made known;
Creator, Word, and Spirit, One.
Prayers of the People & The Lord’s Prayer
Generous God, you have given us so much— more than we sometimes notice and more than we sometimes remember. We pray for those who have too little today: For families wondering how they will make ends meet. For those who are lonely and longing for friendship. For those who are grieving. For those who are tired from caring for others. For those who feel forgotten. Reshape us into a people who notice.
We pray for our community here in Renfrew and beyond. Give us eyes to see where help is needed, hands ready to serve, and hearts willing to share. We pray for our church. Help us share our time, our gifts, our patience, our forgiveness, our laughter, and our love.
And when we are tempted to hold tightly to what is ours, remind us that everything we have first came from you. We offer you our lives, trusting that your grace is more than enough. And now, with Christians everywhere, we pray the prayer Jesus taught us to pray by praying… Our Father…
SENDING
Hymn Christ Has No Body Now but Yours MV 171
Refrain: Christ has no body now but yours,
no hands but yours.
Here on this earth, yours is the work,
to serve with the joy of compassion.
- No hands but yours to heal the wounded world,
no hands but yours to soothe all its suffering,
no touch but yours to bind the broken hope
of the people of God. Refrain
- No eyes but yours to see as Christ would see,
to find the lost, to gaze with compassion;
no eyes but yours to glimpse the holy joy
of the city of God. Refrain
- No feet but yours to journey with the poor,
to walk this world with mercy and justice.
Yours are the steps to build a lasting peace
for the children of God. Refrain
- Through ev’ry gift, give back to those in need;
as Christ as blessed, so now be his blessing,
with ev’ry gift a benediction be
to the people of God. Refrain
Sending Forth
Go now into God’s world. Share what you have. Share your kindness. Share your forgiveness and share your love. And when you find yourself saying “But that’s mine!” remember that God’s grace was never meant to be kept in a box. Go with open hands, open hearts, and the joy of knowing there is enough of God’s love for everyone. Amen.
Sung Blessing Choral Amen VU 974
Amen! Amen! Hallelujah, amen!
Amen! Amen! Hallelujah, amen!
Amen! Amen! Hallelujah, amen!
Postlude
The Gospel According to Munsch: We Share Everything
“Mine, Yours, Ours”
For those who haven’t read We Share Everything, let me tell you what happens. It’s the very first day of kindergarten, and Amanda and Jeremiah arrive at school not quite sure what they’re supposed to do. They both want to play with the same things. Amanda picks up a book, and Jeremiah wants the book she’s reading. He asks her to give it to him, but Amanda refuses. Jeremiah threatens to yell and scream—and, true to his word, he does. Amanda responds by putting the book in his mouth! Then they move on to the blocks. Jeremiah is building an elaborate tower, and Amanda wants the blocks he’s using. Jeremiah refuses to give them to her, so Amanda kicks over his whole creation. And then there are the paints. They both want to use the same paints, and once again they’re fighting over who gets what. Finally, their teacher steps in and tells them, essentially, ‘Look, this is kindergarten. In kindergarten, we share. We share everything.’
And Amanda and Jeremiah take their teacher completely literally. They start by sharing their shoes. Jeremiah puts on Amanda’s pink shoes, and Amanda puts on Jeremiah’s shoes. Then they decide, well, if we’re sharing our shoes, why not our shirts? So Jeremiah puts on Amanda’s shirt, and Amanda puts on Jeremiah’s. And then they share their pants. Pretty soon, Jeremiah is dressed in Amanda’s clothes and Amanda is dressed in Jeremiah’s clothes. And when the teacher comes back and sees them, she is horrified. She says, ‘Don’t share your clothes! Share anything else—but don’t share your clothes!’ And Amanda, Jeremiah and the whole class say: “this is Kindergarten and in Kindergarten we share everything!”
The kids heard: “In kindergarten we share everything!” And they take the teacher absolutely literally. Shoes. Shirts. Pants. Everything. And the teacher’s response is essentially: “No. Not like that.” That’s funny because we understand something the children don’t: There are boundaries around our stuff. There are things that are mine. And sharing is something we are taught to do without actually losing ownership.
If you’ve lived with another person you know there is a whole lot of sharing happening. Chores, groceries, who cooks when, who gets the be the extra curricular chauffeur for a few days … You can divide up every household task and chore and at the end of the day not be any closer. You can co-habitate, live alongside of without necessarily living with. It’s weird isn’t it? And this isn’t reserved to the home either. It can extend into the workplace, the volunteer space and perhaps even into friendships. But friends, we know how to share. We donate. We give. We contribute. We put money in the offering. We bring food to the food bank. We give our time to friends, partners and spouses. But I think that there is a deeper question that’s a little hidden in the story. It’s “can I share my life?” Because that’s harder. You can give someone $50 and remain completely separate from them. You can give away a possession without ever having to know the person who receives it.
And maybe that’s why the communities of faith and the big “c” Church has sometimes been so good at talking about sharing—and not quite as good at talking about joining. Because sharing asks, “What am I willing to give?” Joining asks the much more uncomfortable question: “Whose life am I willing to become part of?” This isn’t specific to the Christian life so don’t worry if you’re not a person of faith. But it’s relevant to all people regardless of faith tradition. I believe that as a society we have become remarkably good at being near one another without actually being together.
We have neighbours we don’t know, coworkers we never see outside work, friends we communicate with through screens, charitable giving that allows us to help without encountering, churches where we can attend anonymously. And perhaps the deepest problem isn’t that we don’t share enough. It’s that we don’t belong to one another enough. And it’s important to note here that what I just mentioned aren’t bad things. They’re even necessary ways for many folks to participate in the life of the church and of others. Friends, studies show that despite how connected we are and the ease of communication that is available; that people are reporting some of the highest levels of loneliness in human history. Despite the cell phone and email. Despite record donations to charities and some society being the most aware of justice and fairness and reconciliation than any other point in human history. But somewhere in the last 10-20 years we learned how to give without belonging.
And that’s where Munsch becomes surprisingly profound. The children don’t merely learn to redistribute objects. They discover that their lives can overlap. They wear each other’s clothes. They inhabit each other’s space. They become ridiculous together. They join. This is where the story of the early church becomes so much more interesting than a lesson about generosity. That’s the story we heard from this morning from the earliest form of a faith community following the ascension of Jesus. When Luke describes this community, he doesn’t begin with what they owned. He begins with who they had become to one another.
The Spirit doesn’t merely make us generous; the Spirit joins us together. In Acts 4:31 it is written: “When they had prayed, the place in which they were gathered together was shaken; and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit…” Friends, I’m sure when Peter ran you noticed the sequence of events. They pray and then the Spirit fills them. They speak boldly and then they become one community. And then Luke says: “Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul…” That’s much stronger than “they were really good at sharing.” One heart. One soul. The generosity of verse 32 isn’t primarily a financial strategy. It is the visible consequence of belonging to one another. Many biblical commentators and preachers raise the same point; such as Willie James Jennings who wrote “that too often in our reading of this story our view is clouded by the spectacular giving and we miss the spectacular joining.”
We can become fascinated with the question: “How much did they give away?” or “How much did they share?” But Luke seems more interested in: “Who did they become to one another?” They didn’t simply redistribute possessions. They joined themselves to one another. And perhaps that’s the part of this story that is hardest for us—not giving something away, but allowing ourselves to be joined to someone else. Because giving can be done from a distance. Joining cannot.
God creates a people before God creates a program. Brenda, let’s add this to the Worship and Music Agenda for September 10th beginning at 5:45 in case folks are curious about that ministry … Friends, the early church didn’t begin with: a stewardship campaign, a community pantry, a sharing spreadsheet, or a five-step generosity initiative (not that those aren’t wonderful ministries to do). Being a Christ-centred and Spirit led church begins with people being gathered into a new kind of relationship through the Holy Spirit. God isn’t simply creating generous individuals. God is creating a people. And that distinction matters. Because Christianity isn’t fundamentally: “I have something you need, so I’ll give you some of it.” It’s: “Your life is now bound up with mine because we belong to Christ.” That’s a much more radical claim. It means your joy affects me. Your suffering affects me. Your need affects me. Because we’re joined. And once we understand that, the Munsch story begins to sound a little different too.
The children’s story is funny because the children are essentially negotiating the boundaries of possession: Mine. Yours. Ours. And there’s something wonderfully childish about it. But the uncomfortable truth is that adults aren’t necessarily much better. We simply have more sophisticated ways of saying: “Mine.” My house. My money. My time. My parking space. My church. My pew. My neighbourhood. My political tribe. My people. My problems. We can be very generous while still remaining profoundly separate. We can give without joining. We can donate without knowing. We can serve without becoming vulnerable. We can write a cheque and never have to learn someone’s name. And this is where your “joining” insight becomes the challenge of the sermon.
The opposite of selfishness isn’t necessarily generosity. The opposite of selfishness is belonging. What would it mean to actually join? Joining means: knowing someone’s name; allowing someone to help you, not just allowing yourself to help them; sharing time, not merely resources; letting someone else’s need interrupt your plans; receiving as well as giving; allowing the boundaries of “mine” to become “ours.” It’s also important to remember: joining is mutual, it’s a sharing of personhood.
That’s another beautiful thing about Acts 4. The wealthy don’t simply become benefactors. The needy don’t simply become recipients. It’s not just a transaction with a charitable receipt to be mailed out come tax time. But they become one body. The relationship itself becomes the gift. That brings us back to the children in Munsch’s story. Because maybe the question isn’t really, “Are we willing to share everything?” Maybe the deeper question is, “Are we willing to belong to one another?”
What if church isn’t primarily the place where we come to receive religious goods and services? What if church is the place where we learn to belong to one another? A community where: Your child becomes our child. Your grief becomes our grief. Your celebration becomes our celebration. Your abundance becomes our abundance. Your need becomes something we carry together. That’s Acts 4. Not a political platform like Marxism. Not compulsory generosity. Not a romanticized picture of a perfect church. But a community so profoundly joined together by the Spirit that the boundaries of private possession begin to lose their power. So, beloved, where is God inviting us not simply to share more, but to join more deeply? Who are the people we need to know rather than simply help? Where might God be asking us to receive rather than give? What would it look like for someone else’s life to become our concern? Or… what if our measure of generosity isn’t simply how much we give away, but how many lives we are willing to let become intertwined with ours?
Robert Munsch’s book begins with Amanda and Jeremiah shouting “MINE!” Then they discover the affirmation: “we share everything.” But Acts 4 takes us one step further. The Christian answer isn’t merely: “Everything is ours.” It is: “We are one.” That is the deeper miracle. The Spirit doesn’t simply loosen our grip on our possessions. The Spirit loosens our grip on ourselves. And makes room for other people. Maybe that’s what Pentecost looked like after the wind and the fire have gone quiet. People who once stood apart discover that, in Christ, they belong to one another. And when we belong to one another, the question of what is mine and what is yours begins to change. Not because someone forced us to give it away, but because love has taught us to say, “It’s ours.”
At Trinity St.-Andrew’s, let’s strive to declare “We Share Everything”. Amen.
